Secure Borders in a Christian Context

Image taken from here. 

Jesus commanded us to "love one another." A lot of Christians today talk about having "secure borders" in response to immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers.

Loving one another and having secure borders are not necessarily opposites—but they can be.

Most Christian schools of theology affirm that people have the right to private property. Along with this right comes the notion of having secure borders—whether those are the walls of your private home or the borders of the nation.

However, we can fall into the trap of assuming that the command to love one another and having secure borders are somehow opposites held in tension. It's like we instinctively know that anything that forcefully separates us from our neighbors with locks and armed guards is antithetical to the command to love. But that's only because we don't properly understand "secure borders" in light of the Gospel. They don't have to be opposites when done properly.

Most Christian theology affirms that the right to private property comes with strings attached. It's not open-ended. You have the right to private property so that you can use it for the common good. For example, you can buy a piece of land so you can chop down the trees to make lumber to build a shelter for refugees. Without the right to make decisions about that property, you may not have the agency to fully live out your Christian vocation to "welcome the stranger" (Matthew 25:31-46), for example.

God may respect your freedom to do nothing with that land and lumber while refugees suffer outside in the cold. However, that may be a sin. You certainly have the freedom to sin, but that doesn't make it right.

[I highly recommend Pope John Paul II's Laborum Exercens for a riveting and detailed look at the dignity of work and where I got the ideas of the relation between private property and Christian vocation, especially.]

Americans like to celebrate the notion of freedom. However, Christian freedom is not simply the absence of oppression and restraints. It is the freedom for living out our Christian vocation. In other words, it's not just freedom from a problem, it's the freedom for doing something good. It is in this way that all rights bestowed on us by by Creator are dovetailed with responsibilities. God wants us to have the right to freedom so that we can exercise our responsibility to live out God's commands.

We can have "secure borders" so that we can love one another, offer mercy to refugees and make peace in the world. If the borders do not accomplish that, then they are not of God.

Therefore, all this talk of "secure borders" must be in service to the Greatest Commandment to love one another which Jesus directly tells us should be our chief concern. We can have secure borders not to keep out and abuse vulnerable people but rather to protect people who need to enter for safety. In other words, the purpose of the border is to create a space to allocate resources to help them, not to exclude them. In extreme circumstances the border may be necessary not to exclude refugees but to keep out the ones persecuting them.

Because of the commandment to love, it is our duty to make room for those who are seeking refuge from a long season of running for their lives. Since love if our chief responsibility, the only times we should be talking about exclusions are in very dire, desperate situations. Those may include times when there is simply no room or resources left and when the threat to everyone else is extreme. Obviously we are nowhere near the position to make that claim in the United States:

•     We are the richest nation in the history of human civilization. 
•     We have plenty of open, available land. 
•     We have several decades of experience with undocumented immigrants living in our nation with virtually no national security risk to speak of. Despite the hype, they commit far less violent crime than even native-born citizens.

As you can see from the above list, it is hard (if not downright impossible) for a Christian to justify exclusion at this point in history based on Gospel values.

Besides, a "secure border" does not mean we keep everyone out. It means we reform our immigration system so that people can smoothly come in and out as they need without interference from the government. Part of the reason our border now is insecure is because our current immigration system is too rigid and hostile and fails to respond to current economic and human needs.

But what happens if our secure borders interfere with our ability to love one another and care for the common good? If loving one another and having secure borders ever become opposites, then the Christian responsibility to follow Jesus's Greatest Commandment must come first, as it has a significantly greater standing than the right to have borders. Yes, the Christian tradition affirms the right secure borders, but that right is never absolute and is always secondary to the dignity of the human person, the common good and our exercise of Jesus's Greatest Commandment to love one another.

So what do we do?

Let them in! Offer a warm welcome. And help them get started building and rebuilding their lives here in the U.S.

Where Charity and Love Prevail: The Matthew 25 Solidarity Test

Our society is so divided over many hot-button issues. There are conservative and liberal viewpoints, with variations of all kinds in between. It can be confusing to know what to think when half of the population seems to have strong opinions one way and seemingly the other half of the population has just as strong views on the other side.

When people express opinions about a particular issue, I always look to see how charitable they are in this. Do they take the concerns of others seriously and try their best to get to the bottom of it? Or do they simply dismiss their concerns outright without getting involved? That is often a clue as to whether their opinions are in line with Christian discipleship.

Jesus promises that he is close to the poor and suffering of the world. He is so close that he can say whatever is done to the "least of these" is also done to him (see Matthew 25:31-46). In this passage, he compels us to do the same through the works of mercy. This is a great model for how Christians can move and act in this world.

If you are trying to figure out what position to take on a controversial issue, you can use what I call the Matthew 25 Solidarity Test: Do you know the people who are affected by this issue? Have you walked in their shoes? Have you heard their concerns in their own words rather than from a third party? Are you so close to them that whatever happens to them also happens to you?

I'll use two hot-button issues to illustrate this point:  Racism in the U.S. and the struggle of refugees and undocumented immigrants.

Reports have been mounting in recent years of unarmed black people in America being killed or otherwise brutalized by police officers. There are so many reports that it is hard to dismiss them all as simply isolated incidents. Yet, some people are quick to say, "There is no racism in the U.S.!" It is strange how that is their first thought. It comes across as defensiveness and frankly just flat out denial. 

Anyone who studies statistics can tell you that a string of incidents does not necessarily prove that there is something like societal racism in play. Such things are difficult to prove and it can take years for the proper data and studies to come in. However, anyone who is even remotely charitable should recognize that we have a big problem. All indicators point to it. Even if we were to find out later that this treatment of African Americans is somehow NOT systemic racism (which I sincerely doubt), we should still be acting as if it were racism until we know for sure. That is what a charitable person would do. Until we get to the bottom of it, we should be doing everything possible to solve this. We should be sensitive, compassionate and diligent until this problem is solved. The fact that so many resist any effort to work on this issue just about proves the legitimacy of the charge of racism.

For example, if someone falls out of a tree and thinks he has broken his arm, the best thing to do is take him to the hospital. It is possible that the arm is not broken, but doctors will treat that person as if the arm is broken until they can properly diagnose. It would be cruel and inhumane to say, "quit crying, your arm is not broken!" without actually doing the necessary evaluation to know for sure. Yet, that is exactly how many in our culture are treating African Americans who present strong evidence of racism and are met with resistance, dismissals of their concerns and overall lack of interest.

The people who say that racism is not a factor are rarely (if ever) close to the issue. They seem to pronounce their judgement from their comfortable living rooms in very white neighborhoods. They aren't the people who are consoling grieving family members or helping a wounded and angry community heal. Those who are involved seem to have no problem recognizing the footprint of racism at work.

I see the same pattern over how we treat refugees and undocumented immigrants. The people who are closest to migrants—who hold their hands when a loved one is missing or who simply listen to them with open minds and hearts—these people overwhelmingly support a merciful approach to welcoming immigrants and granting hospitality whenever possible. Those who want to shut out immigrants and refugees with strict rules are usually people who have had no meaningful contact with those migrants and have rarely taken the time to fully understand their concerns.

An important note: It takes more than physical proximity to truly be in Christian solidarity with others. For example, police and the people they arrest are very close. The police physically touch them and they share a ride in a police car. However, despite sharing that space, they are often very far apart in terms of their life experiences and perspectives. People in segregated communities can often think they are close to each other. They see each other from behind their car windows or in limited interactions in public. They can fool themselves into thinking they understand the concerns of the other group. Segregated or confrontational relationships are not relationships of solidarity, and solidarity is what Jesus is requiring in Matthew 25.

Being in close solidarity with the poor and suffering of the world is no guarantee that you will always form the best opinions. However, in our culture that seems almost evenly divided on so many important issues, we are actually not very divided when we factor in solidarity. Looking at the issues of racism and immigration, those who are in solidarity with the affected groups overwhelmingly have a supportive, sympathetic opinion of their struggles while those with differing opinions are almost always those who are not in solidarity. I'm sure there are exceptions, but quite frankly, I have never met one. Exceptions must be very rare, if they exist at all. This is a pretty clear indicator to me that opinions on both sides are not equal in validity.

I'm reminded of the lyrics to the old church hymn:

Where charity and love prevail,

there God is ever found;

Brought here together by Christ’s love,

by love are we thus bound.

The Minimum Wage and Christian Hope

Holy Family by Ade Bethune

There is a lot of debate about raising the minimum wage. The fight for $15 movement is going strong and has gained footing in a number of regions in the USA. 

People are debating the merits from both sides.

However, there is one line of reasoning that I have not heard anyone else make, and it is significant. It is probably missed because it is so obvious that it's right in front of our eyes.

Even better, you do not need a degree in economics to understand it.



St. Joseph the Worker, by Ade Bethune

It goes like this:

A lot of people are against raising the minimum wage because they say it will ultimately hurt people and the economy. They claim the wage increase with bring about a corresponding increase in inflation, which would effectively neutralize the value of that additional income. Even worse, critics argue, businesses will also speed up the process of automating their facilities (and thus laying off workers) to avoid the higher wages they would have to pay.

I'm not here to argue about the method of increasing wages. While I would love to see more people earing higher wages, I'm willing to accept that here are better and worse ways of doing this. Fine.

We must be careful not to assume that all attempts of raising wages are going to be a disaster.

If we accept this, then we give in to hopelessness. We would have to assume that most citizens are just going to have to live in poverty. Under this logic, the best anyone can hope for is to not be one of those people. The argument against raising wages is that keeping them low is the only way to preserve some wealth for some people. Raising wages, they argue, will hurt the economy for the rest of us and not help the poor in the end.

If you can't raise wages, then that means that you lose all hope that we can ever overcome widespread poverty. It means that the people who are poor are always going to be poor. It means that success is only available for some of us and that there's nothing we can do about it. It means we live in a world without hope that the earth will ever be as it is in heaven.

Wrong.

This defies all common sense and a basic look at history. We know that there have been societies throughout history where the vast majority of people were deeply impoverished while a few were wealthy. We also know that there have been societies where there was a thriving middle class and poverty was kept to a minimum--many countries in Europe are like that right now.

In fact, if you look back just a generation in the USA, it was once typical for a man to leave high school, enter the workforce and earn enough to support an entire family on one income and expect to live a middle-class lifestyle. That used to be typical in the USA.

If it used to be typical, what is stopping us from going back to that system?

There is no fixed law that says a certain percentage of society must be poor. That percentage changes based on the leadership of the society and the economic approach they use. Some places in the world have more poverty than others. That means a better society is always available. Far too many places have proven that it can be done and done well.

Economists will argue whether it's wise to raise wages too quickly or whether it's best to roll out changes regionally or nationally. I will leave it to the experts to debate the method. But let's all be 100% clear: It is possible to have a society where poverty is kept to a minimum (if not downright eradicated) and the vast majority of people maintain at least a middle-class lifestyle. There are simply too many examples in the world of places that do exactly that.

How we get there may be in question. But we should never doubt that we can get there.

It is incumbent on Christian morality to fight for a living wage for all. If we believe the words of Jesus Himself, we have to believe that not only is it possible but that it is part of our duty as Christians to remake this world in the image of the Kingdom--through God's grace, of course.

Businesses will make every prediction of gloom and doom. We know this. Every time society has worked to improve the lives of its citizens, many in the business community have fought against this claiming, "It'll kill business!" Yet, businesses continued to thrive after those changes were enacted. In fact, the more rights and better wages for workers has usually translated into a better society for all, including the business community. And none of this has to happen by using military force or other violent means (in fact, that rarely (if ever) works). We just have to make sure everyone has the opportunity for a living wage.

This comic below is one of my all-time favorites and pretty much tells the story:

Goodbye, Just War Theory—We Never Really Knew You

"Prophets of Nonviolence - King, Day and Gandhi"
by Sr. Catherine Martin, O. Carm. Used with permission. 
http://sistersofmountcarmel.org/catherineart/catherine.index.htm

 

The Vatican is holding its first ever conference to evaluate its long-held doctrine on just war theory. Articles are here and here. First described by St. Augustine in the 5th century, just war theory has long been controversial. It describes circumstances whereby the Church can morally sanction some violence and war. While its focus in recent years is primarily on self-defense, many have treated it as a blanket endorsement for political states to make decisions at whim about going to war.

I applaud efforts to take a deeper look at whether some forms of violence, up to and including war, can be justifiable from the standpoint of the Revelation of Christ. You will not find me shedding any tears if we find a more positive, peace affirming framework.

That being said, I can't help but wonder if we would not be—pardon the expression—jumping the gun if we were to abandon just war theory.

It feels like breaking up with a girlfriend before we have ever really gotten to know her in the first place.

***

When I read closely the conditions whereby violence could be allowable under just war theory, I actually find a very pro-peace doctrine. You simply cannot meet the conditions otherwise. It takes a little bit of prayerful meditation to see this, but it does not require any theological slight-of-hand tricks. It is simply a matter of taking the conditions seriously and asking what must be done in order to meet them. The demands it asks of us are not easy, but the logic itself is straightforward.

To meet these conditions, individuals and nations must be active and engaged in the cause of peace. According to just war theory, violence is only an option as a last resort to protect the common good (#2263). It is entirely subsumed under the moral framework of self-defense. In this regard, it is very similar to the theology of the death penalty.

I will not do an exhaustive text study here, but here is a sampling of lines straight out of the Catechism:

• All citizens and all governments are obliged to work for the avoidance of war (#2308).

• Peace is not merely the absence of war (#2304).

• Peace cannot be attained on earth without safeguarding the goods of persons, free communication among men, respect for the dignity of persons and peoples, and the assiduous practice of fraternity (#2304).

• Peace is the work of justice and the effect of charity (#2304).

• Injustice, excessive economic or social inequalities, envy, distrust, and pride raging among men and nations constantly threaten peace and cause wars. Everything done to overcome these disorders contributes to building up peace and avoiding war (#2317).

If violence is determined to be necessary to protect the common good, there are very stringent criteria to limit the scope and evaluate the aims of said violence (#2309).

All this is to avoid committing the mortal sin of murder, i.e. breaking the 5th commandment. Given the dignity of life and care for the land, the goal is to do the minimum violence necessary to protect the common good and nothing more.

The above offers a rich call-to-action for justice and peace. Perhaps it's not the most imaginative or daring pathway to peace, but in a ramshackle sort of way, it promises to get us there. However, the Church and churchgoers often treat it like decorative wallpaper.  It's as if those composing it were just waxing poetic about peace in the abstract.  It's as if it came with an unspoken, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, nobody is expecting us to actually take this seriously. The demands of peace as spelled out here get very little attention in Sunday homilies.

To the contrary, these are serious statements that demand concrete actions. In fact, to come anywhere close to meeting these conditions, society would have to undergo a near-total overhaul. It is not just about violence, but also poverty, human rights, respect for the land and a bubbling-over infrastructure of harmony among all. These statements reject passivity and instead call us to be active and proactive for the cause of peace.

If we are to tackle such endemic sins as pride, economic injustice and social inequality—and if "peace cannot be attained" without the litany of terms presented above—then this is no side task to schedule between brunch and golf on a Saturday afternoon. From the level of individuals to governments, we are all called to lifelong, continual efforts not just to avoid war and violence, but to create the conditions for peace.

Before violence can be a last resort, all other efforts must be tried thoroughly and repeatedly. That's simply what it means to be a "last resort"—by definition.

***

Yet, we have named a doctrine by its option-of-last-resort.

Let's say I'm hungry. I plan to eat after work. There is meatloaf in the fridge at home. If it is spoiled, there is also some leftover fish. If that is also no good, I could visit one of a dozen restaurants down the street. If I cannot find any money, if each of my credit cards is declined or if all the restaurants are closed by the time I get off work, I could, as a last resort, simply fast for the evening and make plans to eat tomorrow. Taken together, I would not call this my "evening fasting plan." No, this is my "evening eating plan." If all else were to fail, I may have no other choice but to fast—but make no mistake, my plan is to eat, and there is a plethora of options available to make that happen. Fasting is highly unlikely and hardly worth mentioning, but it could, theoretically, happen.

So by a similar token, why is our "peace plan" called the "war plan?" It's misleading at best and contradictory at worst. Putting that much attention on the option-of-last-resort does not express much faith in the primary goal, which is the attainment of peace.

It is not surprising that just war theory has been so poorly understood, because it is quite simply poorly named. It vaguely pairs the word "just" alongside "war." It is not helpful to be so ambiguous on a topic that is so grave.

It might make sense to a theologian to start with the exception and work backwards to discover that this doctrine, which outlines the conditions whereby war could potentially be justified, is really about peace. Like I said before, it does not take extensive theologizing to get there.

Unfortunately, however, what I have often witnessed is that people hear the term “just war” and do some mental gymnastics along the following lines, saying:

‘Just War’ means the Church has implicitly justified war itself, is opting out of any and all decision-making as to the morality of any specific war and leaves all considerations entirely to the discretion of the political state. The Church therefore promises to turn a blind eye and not intervene while the state does what it wishes.

That is absolutely absurd. While it may be the role of the state to ultimately make the decision to go to war or not, to think that the Church should not weigh in on matters of life and death and advise on the morality of a war is unthinkable. Yet, turning a blind eye is exactly what many demand of the Church in light of just war theory. It is unconscionable that the Church would simply abandon its prophetic voice, shrugging its proverbial shoulders, resigning itself to the notion that war is simply the "state's decision."

Just war does not mean that all war is justified and that the Church washes its hands of any critical feedback for the decisions of a political state to enter into a war. It simply means that the Church holds for a legitimate right to self defense that could include violence as a last resort.

The "just war" name sounds like a marketing trick right out of the Karl Rove playbook. It's reminiscent of "right to work" laws, which have virtually nothing to do with the lofty ideals of "work" and "rights." "Just war" comes across like a blank check for war, but if you read the fine print, there is hardly any conflict that could possibly meet its conditions. In the confusion, the Church is locked in an analysis paralysis, rendering itself ineffective at being a prophetic voice to the state. In my more cynical moments, I sometimes wonder whether this confusion was in the plan all along.

***

Imagine archeologists from the future figuring out how to fly a 20th century airplane having only discovered a small portion of the instruction manual for guidance—the section on how to parachute out of a failed flight. They could piece together what the plane was supposed to do by taking the emergency exit instructions and working backwards from there: If we parachute when X, Y and Z are failing, then we can deduce that X, Y and Z need to be operational, even though it is unclear from this portion of the manual how to make that happen.

This is the problem we run into by building a theology of peace out of just war theory. "Just war" is the failsafe when all else has fallen short. We need to be much more explicit about what we mean by "all else." Just war is not cut out to be our entire peace plan but rather just an addendum.

Differently said: I would drop out of flight school if the instruction manual were entitled "Just Parachuting." Likewise, it's hard to take the Church's mission of peace seriously when the textbook has the words "Just War" on the cover.

***

War and violence sound like terrible things the Church has no business getting involved in, but there is a fundamental moral question in play: Is violence ever an allowable option or does the Christian call require total nonviolence in all circumstances? Will some violence end up reducing the total amount of violence? Just war theory takes the sobering view that violence will be almost impossible to avoid in this broken world.

The difference between just war theory and total pacifism is slim. It is a scandal that this remains an untold story of Catholic theology. Both approaches requires a tireless pursuit of peace. The only difference is that one side will allow violence as an absolute last resort while the other will not. In either case, both sides should look virtually identical to the casual observer, as they would be spending the overwhelming majority of their attention on fostering peace.

I would like to think that the question of violence is something that people of goodwill can struggle with. I hope so, because I struggle with it myself. What draws me to consider total nonviolence is that many of the greatest spiritual leaders throughout history—in the tradition of Gandhi, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King, Jr., St. Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena, or even, dare we say, Jesus of Nazareth—have opted for it. Also included are many in the Anabaptist and Catholic Worker movements who have personally shared with me jaw-dropping stories of their commitment to nonviolence. Still, I am not there, yet.

As food for further discussion, I am willing to consider that maybe the difference is not so slim—maybe there is a Grand Canyon-sized gap between total nonviolence and violence as a last resort. Maybe the latter, even by opening the door to violence just a little, misses the Way of Jesus by a long shot.  Perhaps that is why just war theory has not been able to be the vehicle for peace that it promises to be on paper. That is a discussion for another time, but it is worth at least suggesting it here.

***

We seem to focus almost all of our entire theological attention on whether or not violence can be justified in some situations and very little attention on the overwhelming Christian duty to create conditions where war and violence either cannot exist or are avoided when they do. This involves a serious change in culture, adoption of preventative measures and fostering the well-being of the people and land.

All too often, theological debate around just war theory centers around the tactical considerations when a nation is on the brink of war. There is far too little discussion about what it means to promote peace and avoid war in a long-term, proactive way. That’s the piece we almost completely ignore when we talk about just war theory. Just war is not something to bring out of the closet when an enemy army is marching on our gates, but rather its mandate for a lifestyle of peace is something to consider each day.

In order to take just war theory seriously, we must promote peace vigorously and support the economic initiatives, human rights and fraternal harmony necessary for the avoidance of war. Just because there is a slim allowance of some violence as a complete and total last resort does not mean that Church just throws up its hands and turns a blind eye to all state-sponsored decisions for violence. That is a logical fallacy that is all too often the narrative around just war theory.

***

Perhaps Pope Francis said it best:

A person who thinks only of building walls, wherever they may be—and not bridges—is not a Christian.

Yes, there may be a time for a wall. Perhaps we can find ourselves so backed into a corner that a literal or metaphorical wall is the only legitimate response to a given situation. Nevertheless, I will never be convinced of the need for a wall until substantial efforts have first been made to build a bridge.

Just substitute “waging wars/peace” for “building walls/bridges” and the same applies. Whether you are against all wars or whether you concede some allowance for them, make no mistake—the Christian life is one of fostering peace. The debate about limited violence vs. total nonviolence is important, but let's not allow that to obfuscate this more unifying point.

***

Keeping war and violence as last resort options is based on the assumption that nonviolent means of self defense will not be as effective as violent ones. Given the stunning success of movements for peace around the globe in the past century, it is worth asking whether we could ever exhaust the potential for nonviolent means of solving conflicts. Furthermore, given the immensely destructive capabilities of modern military systems, we should also consider whether the violence of modern war could ever be restrained enough to meet the stringent requirements of just war theory. In other words, a "just war" may be as mythical as a unicorn, a purely theoretical construct but not something we are ever going to see in real life.

***

The question may not be whether just war theory is wrong but whether it has ever been taken seriously in the first place. I am lead to a robust vision of the peaceable kingdom the deeper I delve into it. But given the way it has been used and misused to justify all sorts of violence, as well as it's extremely indirect—or downright misleading—name, perhaps it is long overdue for a rebranding.

So maybe breaking up with just war theory is a good idea. Perhaps she is not so bad after all, and it may be a shame we never saw her full potential, but let's face it: If we don't know her after 1,500 years, perhaps we never will.

 

Matthew 25:31-46: Model of the Church

Jesus tells us that He is in solidarity with the poorest of the poor: 
 
Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of these least brothers and sisters of mine, you did it for me.
(in Matthew 25:31-46) 
 
This passage is often referred to as the Judgment of the Nations.

I think it should also be called the Judgment of the Church.

The reason is simple and based on two points:  As the passage says, Jesus is in such a close relationship with the poor that He could say that whatever is done to them is also done to Him.  The second point is that the Church claims to be the Body of Christ. 

It therefore follows that in order to claim to be the Body of Christ, a group must therefore also be in deep solidarity with the poorest of the poor.  It makes no sense otherwise—how can His Body not be where He is??  Based on this passage, it seems pretty clear.
 
A group can have all the right beliefs in the world and even understand this passage with the best scholarship, but if folks are not actually in solidarity with the poor, are they actually being Church at all? 
 
In other words, to claim to be the Body of Christ it stands to reason that a group would have to meet the criteria for that Body.  Scripture gives many indicators as to what that may be, but certainly Matthew 25:31-46 is at the very least a major piece of the puzzle.  

This is perhaps a variation, or at least another perspective, on "The Church as Servant" in Models of the Church by Avery Dulles.

We often forget that Jesus was—among many things—a prophet.  as the Hebrew Scriptures have show us time and again, the best prophets are those who offer critique of both society and church.

I can leave it up to theologians to figure out whether this passage suggests that Jesus IS the poor, is IN the poor or is so deeply present to the poor that He—literally or symbolically—shares their fate.  Perhaps in some sense each is true.

The fact remains that Jesus is so close to the poor that when a hungry person knocks on our door asking for food, we can, in a very real sense, say that it is Christ knocking.  While it is an important exercise for the soul to ponder all the myriad dimensions of how that mystical relationship may work, it would be unwise to divert so much energy trying to figure that out that we forget that there is someone actually knocking at the door.  The biggest question for us as Church is:  How do we respond to this knock? 

Or perhaps even better:  Which side of the door should we be on?

Besides, we may actually have a better sense of what this passage means after taking a step in the direction of where we think the Gospel is leading us and then make adjustments while on the path.  It may be something that can only be fully known by practicing the Way of Jesus.
  

Ministry of Presence

Ministry of Presence

This is one of the most misunderstood phrases in all of ministry that I have ever come across.  It is also the guiding motto of the ministry of Glenmary brothers, such as Craig Digmann (see this article on his extensive ministry of presence to non-Catholics in eastern Tennessee).

Imagine taking a group of energetic college students on a week-long immersion trip to do outreach work.  They come equipped with hammers and paint brushes and are full of energy to help the less fortunate.  Then you tell them, "Your job this week is to be present to people."  I can almost visualize the disappointment taking physical form and falling from their faces, for they have come ready to build houses for the homeless and cook large meals for the hungry.  Time is short and there are many things to be done!

People may ask in puzzlement, "What are you even asking us to do?  What does it mean to be present?"  Those would actually be excellent opening questions.  Being present to the poor requires exactly that—being personally involved, asking questions, sweating it out.  It is not about sending a donation in the mail or absentmindedly checking items off a to-do list while thinking of something else.  There is no list.  In fact, there probably cannot be.

We are a culture of doers.  Being present can seem so passive—at least, at first. 

The truth is that this approach is the opposite of passive.  In order to be truly present, we have to be fully engaged and active with the individuals and community we serve—to know them, to walk with them and to suffer with them as they suffer.  Then—and only then—are we in a position to do something with and for them.


"Compassion" word cloud from
http://www.365daysofinspiration.com/blog/2011/07/05/creating-space-for-compassion/

It is hard not to think of the passion and death of Jesus as we are in the midst of Lent.  "Passion" in this sense means "suffering."  It is at the root of the word "compassion," which therefore means "co-suffering."  In other words, to be compassionate is to be so present to someone at the depths of their very wounds, to be so in tune with what they are going through that we suffer right along with them.  This includes all the awkwardness, discomfort, boredom and other unpleasantries that might seem to be there on the surface.

Look Before You Leap 

Presence is a beautiful word.  It is not about judgment.  It does not have an agenda for a person, although it does hope.  It is more than simply being there, although just being there is most definitely the first step.  You have to show up in every sense of the word.  It is being truly available with all of our senses and all of our attention.  It is ultimately imitating Christ who showed us through the Incarnation that He is deeply present to all of humanity.

After listening and simply being there for a while with someone in need, then certainly sharing helpful ideas, acts of service and words of advice can follow.  Those acts will be better guided and more sensitive to the unique situation if they are grounded first in presence.  Those acts must always be kept in check with an emphasis on listening and solidarity first and foremost.  They have to come out of a true communion in caring, concern and empathy rather than a pronouncement from a detached place.

The First Pastoral Commandment

Pope Francis recently said it this way:  "The first pastoral commandment is closeness: being close to the people. Closeness." 

The Pope continued: "We cannot go to a family with sick or hungry children -- or those that have fallen to vice -- we cannot go with 'You must, you must, you must,'" said the pope. "No. We must go with closeness, with the caress that Jesus has taught us.  To save us, God was made close to us, was made one of us: Jesus, and suffered like us!" said Francis. "This is the way: Closeness."

 

If Jesus is Here, Then Where Should I Be . . . ?



The Christ of the Breadlines by Fritz Eichenberg

The infamous painting above tells a Gospel truth.  Jesus is so fully present to the poorest of the poor that he could say, Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me (in Matthew 25:31-46, NRSV translation).  That homeless man in ragged clothes standing in line for bread—that man is Jesus and should be treated as such, as far as any believer is concerned.  Yes, Christ is present to all of humanity, but Christ is indeed present to the poor and suffering in a special way—a preferential way, as it is said in Catholic Social Teaching.

It follows that if Jesus is in solidarity with the poorest of the poor, then His Church—which is His very Body—ought to be there, too.  Anything other than that would not make sense.  How can His Body not be where He is?  This is a challenge for the whole church, and it is the special mission of a Glenmary brother.

Jesus instructs us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, visit the prisoner and care for the sick.  He does not, however, tell us how to do this.  But he calls us to be his Body and that means being with those who are suffering, because that is where He is.  Our presence is therefore the first step, and from that place, we will know better what else to do.
 



The Christ of the Homeless by Fritz Eichenberg

A Good Shepherd Knows His Sheep

 

Glenmary Catholic parishes are in areas where Catholics make up less than 3% of the population and where the poverty rate is at least twice the national average.  And that is just the starting point.  

Br. Craig is part of a ministry that greets school children as they arrive off the buses on Mondays.  He says you can see right in their faces how many of them are burdened with difficult family circumstances.  A simple welcome and cheer can change their whole attitude.  Br. Crag is also a companion to people who have lost a loved one and need someone to listen to them.  He drops in on folks in various circumstances just to check in on how they are doing.  He constantly circulates in the community and is a part of the lives of the people he serves.  All of this is in addition to his stunning bridge building with non-Catholic churches, as reported in the previous post.

Br. Craig (Right) visiting a community member in Tennessee—
checking in on him, inviting him to an event
and just staying up to date with his life and needs.

 

Full, Conscious and Active Participation

 

Being present does not mean just hanging out.  It is "full, conscious and active participation," to borrow a phrase from Vatican II.  This phrase was originally coined for describing the hoped for attitude of the faithful in Catholic liturgy, but it really applies to all of Christian life, as good worship unfolds into our lives. 

 

These are not just "feel good" moments, this is at the depths of the Gospel message itself. Jesus himself is the Incarnation, being fully present to the human condition, calling us likewise to be fully present to each other. Christians argue a lot over who has the right theology.  I sometimes wonder how often we do this to avoid opening and stretching ourselves into the daring invitation that Jesus offers us.  It is hard enough to manage our own pain, and Jesus wants us to enter into the pain of others—yet this may be the key to unlocking our own pain, as it gets us out of our false selves to find the Kingdom within.

You could argue that the main gift of the Incarnation of Jesus was simply His very presence with us and the awesome revelations that come as we come to understand what that must mean for us.  Glenmary brothers like Craig work hard to live into this message.

Folks may ask, "So you are just present with people... what do you actually do?"  The answer is a marvelous interplay of "everything and nothing."  It has to be both, and it has to transcend either one by itself.

To sum it all up succinctly, it may be true that ultimately the greatest present you can give someone is your presence.