Apocalypse Now!

What comes into your mind when you hear the word apocalypse? Most of us think of us think of the total destruction of the world, or at least life as we know it. Think zombies roaming the streets, feasting on brains. On the other hand, my sarcastic generation is doing a pretty good job of using apocalypse as a silly word. I remember a few years ago when we had a large winter storm here in Washington, DC; it was instantly dubbed Snowpocalypse!

The English word apocalypse derives from the ancient Greek apocalupsis, which is the original title for the infamous Book of Revelation. Revelation involves a lot of fire, smoke, battles and things generally blowing up, so it’s understandable that today we would associate apocalypse with end-times battles. However, the word apocalypse contains a much deeper meaning. Far more profound than the long-awaited zombie hordes – or even the end-times prophecies of some churchgoers – this ancient, misunderstood word is an essential tool for comprehending the world we live in.

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Supreme Court Debates Same-Sex Marriage – Should We?

I was raised in a household that was openly affirming of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered folks long before that was commonplace in American society. In the early 1990s, I joined my parents in gay rights rallies and parades in Wichita, Kansas. I grew up with GLBT folks in my community, and my parents encouraged me to watch movies and read books about the devastation that was being caused by a deadly combination of a virulent AIDS virus, and an equally virulent homophobia that permeated much of our culture. I was raised to be an ally.

Marriage equality has always been a no-brainer for me. As a child, I got to see my father and another important leader in my church have their ministerial credentials revoked by the Quaker Church because of their openly expressed conviction that gay relationships were not inherently sinful. The fact that they came to this conclusion out of a process of prayer and serious engagement with what the Bible says (and does not say) about homosexuality did not seem to matter. They were run out of my childhood church like heretics.

So why do I feel so conflicted about the current debate happening at (and outside of) the Supreme court?

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Learning to Shine

Gathered in the heart of the capital of the greatest empire the world has ever known, Capitol Hill Friends is a community rooted in a unique time and place in history. Many of us work for governments, non-profits, and other institutions that seek to influence the course of national and international events. All of us live within a cultural space where busyness is touted as a virtue, overwork is the norm, and transience is a fact of life. I often refer to our environment here in DC as being a pressure cooker, and the description seems accurate to our experience. Whenever I describe our city this way, my friends and neighbors nod their heads in agreement.

Over the long-term, many of us cannot withstand the pressure. There are many reasons people leave the DC area, but the unrelenting intensity of our city has to be a factor. To live in Washington is to partake in an atmosphere of driven ambition, power games and unrelenting busyness. This is true regardless of your job is or your general attitude towards life. The heartbeat of Empire resounds, and it is nearly impossible to avoid being infused with some of its rhythm.

In this context, we at Capitol Hill Friends have a special role to play. We dwell in the epicenter of power, but we feel an invitation to focus on the margins. We are hearing the cry of those who are buckling under the stress of this unsustainable way of life. We are responding to the longing of those who want justice but are often forced to settle for expedience. We are creating a space for transformation - open ground where we can gather together in the name of Jesus.

As unlikely as it may seem, I sense that our calling is to carve out a space of refuge in the heart of Empire. We are called to create and expand a dynamic, life-giving, encouraging environment where we can grow together and slowly break the habits of our over-burdened, anxiety-filled lives. In a city that can often be filled with so much darkness, we are called to be light.

It only takes a little bit of light to push back the darkness, and as we help others to shine, the radius of our radiance will only grow wider. What does it look like to become a community where we equip one another to shine? How can we inspire hope, joy and peace in one another? Are there ways that we can be training so that the peace and love that we have experienced together becomes infectious? How can we spread the light of Christ throughout our families, social circles, workplaces and neighborhoods?

The White-Hot Gospel

The early decades of the Christian movement were infused with a radical sense of a new Kingdom that turns the whole world upside down, but things changed as the Church began to settle into life in Empire. It is tough to swim against the current of the dominant culture. As time went on and the expectation of Jesus' second coming gradually diminished, the followers of the Way began to adapt to the expectations of Greco-Roman society. Decades passed, and Jesus still had not returned to establish his outward reign on earth, so the Church began to develop a meantime theology, seeking to live peaceably - and unobtrusively - within the Empire.

This made all kinds of sense. After all, Rome regularly carried out persecutions against those who refused to submit to the cosmopolitan religion of the Empire, to worship the Emperor as a god. Christians were already in very serious trouble much of the time. Under such circumstances, the temptation to blend in and do as the Romans do must have been huge.

But this decision to compromise with the surrounding culture came at a price. The white-hot gospel of Jesus upended the social hierarchies that were so integral to the internal logic of Empire - master above slave, lord above servant, husband above wife. Yet, as the Christian community struggled to get along in the Empire, all of these harmful dynamics reemerged in the life of the Church. Why?

The radically counter-cultural gospel of Jesus simply could not coexist with the Church's compromise with the unjust culture of the Mediterranean world. The only force that was able to hold this explosive witness together was the intense experience and expectation of Christ's presence and coming Kingdom. A new Order was coming that would replace the old ways of Empire.

But the years passed. Decades went by without the outwardly visible return of Jesus that the community had assumed would take place. Jesus did not come riding on the clouds, taking his seat on the throne of David and establishing a millennial kingdom for all the world to see. Gradually, much of the Church lost a sense of Christ's immanence. Jesus became someone out there, beyond the sky. His Kingdom became a distant reality, something that would eventually take shape at some point in the future - but certainly not today. For much of the Christian community, Jesus became a myth rather than an experienced relationship.

This feeling of distance from the Kingdom of God has made it even more difficult to resist the relentless pressure of Empire. It may be precisely because the Church has experienced and proclaimed God's Kingdom as existing only in a far-off heaven that we have been so susceptible to the distortions and compromises of a long succession of human kingdoms.

As long as the followers of the Way had a sense of Christ's living presence and power in the world, miracles happened. The sick were healed, the dead were raised and the poor had good news preached to them. Men and women entered into their originally intended state of full equality, just as they had been before the Fall. Jesus - not as mythical figure in some distant heaven, but as a viscerally present Teacher and Lord - broke down the divisions between Greek and Jew, slave and free, male and female. In this imminent experience of his Kingdom, all became brothers and sisters, functioning together as a living and growing body.

It is this astonishing reality that the early Quaker movement tapped into. Rather than looking to a distant Kingdom in the clouds, they experienced and proclaimed that Jesus had come to teach his people himself. The Kingdom of Heaven had come near, and all bets were off.

It was in this way - through the experience of Jesus himself, living within each believer and in the midst of the gathered community - that the Quaker movement was able to re-discover the radical equality of Christ's Kingdom. In an age of deep patriarchy, Quakers spiritually empowered women just like the earliest church did. Women served as elders, apostolic ministers and evangelists. Women and men labored side by side for the radical gospel of the Risen Jesus, and all were free to preach as the Spirit gave the words.

This powerful experience of Jesus is available to us today. It is this personal and community experience of God's life and presence that can break us out of our fallen addiction to racism, patriarchy, homophobia and all the many ways that this world encourages us to marginalize one another. When we walk in the light of Christ's Spirit, God gives us power to resist the injustice and false assumptions of our present culture, this current manifestation of Empire.

Are we ready to embrace the white-hot gospel of a present and living Kingdom? Are we prepared for the subtle and radical ways that the Holy Spirit calls us to live in contrast to the dominant culture? Do we have the courage to embrace the love that raises up the lowly and humbles the proud? Is today the day when we will meet the Risen Lord for ourselves?

Are You Ready To Die?

Jesus told them this parable: "The ground of a certain rich man yielded an abundant harvest. He thought to himself, 'What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.' Then he said, 'This is what I'll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store my surplus grain. And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of grain laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry."

"But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?'

"This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God." - Luke 12:16-21

For centuries, a haunting question has been on the lips of Christian evangelists: "If you died tonight, do you know where you would spend eternity?" This repeated phrase helped to fuel the 19th century revival movements, and spurred missionary efforts around the world. It is a question that has drawn unknown thousands into self-examination and a deeper relationship with God. For so many, for so long, it demanded an immediate, personal response to the implications of the gospel message.

For many of us today, however, this question seems so irrelevant as to be ridiculous. Far from being a phrase that cuts to the very heart of our spiritual struggles, it has been reduced to a superficial relic of bygone years. It has become a cliché, and an ugly one at that. For most of my friends, this phrase could never be uttered except in jest.

There are good reasons for this. The mainstream Evangelical vision of the afterlife has done serious damage to the spiritual lives of many. How many of us were told as children that our eternal safety depended entirely on whether we said a particular prayer? How many of us were terrified that perhaps we had not said the prayer right, and that we were destined for everlasting torment, separated from God and everyone we loved?

I know I was. To me, "If you died tonight..." still sounds more like a threat than an invitation. It feels like romance with a gun to the head.

Coerced faith bears no resemblance to the love of God. Jesus does not threaten. His majesty is in his willingness to take our suffering upon himself rather than inflict it. Jesus did not come to condemn us to hell; he came to liberate us from it.

Yet, Jesus does not shy away from hard truth. He is very clear with us that our choices have real consequences - and nothing highlights consequences as clearly as death. In Jesus' parable about a rich man, death is the great revealer. The wealthy man thought he had all the time in the world, and that he could live just for himself. He imagined his life was infinite, storing up great riches to keep himself comfortable. He thought he could become self-sufficient.

Death blows away all of this nonsense. Every one of us could face death at any moment. No matter how much money we have in the bank, or how great our positions or positions of influence, we are all beggars every time we take a breath. The greatest treasure we have is the present moment, and the greatest gift we have to give is our choice of how to live it.

In Jesus' parable, the real question is not about some other-worldly "heaven"; it is about right relationship, and justice. The rich man thought that he could live for himself, caring only about his own needs. He neglected the poor and others who needed his help, choosing instead to store up huge amounts of wealth for the future. By focusing on his own comfort and pleasure, he lived a meaningless and unjust life.

All of this was revealed at the moment of his death. The rich man had lived in denial for so long, thinking he would live forever. But death uncovered the truth: He had spent his life chasing after wind.

How often are we like this rich man? Do we fully embrace the inevitable reality of our own death? What does refusing to acknowledge death cost us? What if we heard the disturbing question again: "If you died tonight, do you know where you would spend eternity?"

Perhaps a better question might be, "If you died today, would the life you have lived be worthy of eternity?" When the moment of death comes, will we look back with joy on all the lives we have touched? Will we survey our life and see that we were faithful, or will we find that we wasted our precious time on selfishness and fear? Will we have led lives that were worth dying for?

An Anti-Racist Gentrifier?

Washington, DC is a city of contrasts. Like most large urban centers, DC encompasses the very wealthy and the very poor; the powerful and the disenfranchised; the descendants of slaveholders and the descendants of slaves. Washington is a city where the political elite of the United States gathers to battle for economic interests and position and it is home to hundreds of thousands of men, women and children who are battling just to make it through the month.

Income inequality and de facto racial segregation is a serious problem throughout the United States, but my experience is that DC suffers from these ills differently from many areas. In Washington, there seems to be very little middle ground between the two main populations that characterize our city. The first group is DC's native-born population, largely made up of working class or poor African Americans. The other major group is the elite, wealthy, highly educated and mostly white population that has recently relocated to the region to work in a variety of federal programs, non-profit organizations and lobbyist groups.

These two populations occupy different physical and social space within the city. There is an invisible line running through DC, dividing East from West. The easternmost neighborhoods of the District are settled mostly by native-born, African American residents. The western regions of the city are largely inhabited by wealthy newcomers.

This racial, economic and cultural dividing line is rapidly moving eastward. While in the 1980s African Americans vastly outnumbered any other ethnic group in the District, black residents now make up only a slim majority of Washingtonians – and it seems likely that even this small edge may be slipping away. As the price of housing has skyrocketed, many longtime DC residents have been forced out of their neighborhoods – pushed farther east as the invisible line dividing our city advances.

There is growing fear that our city does not have room for both groups. Many areas that until recently were bastions of African American residence and culture have become the exclusive reserve of the very wealthy, and mostly white – and many other neighborhoods are headed in the same direction. If current trends continue, there is little doubt that the District of Columbia will soon become a city that is unlivable for anyone without a white-collar, professional income. Most working-class, African American residents may soon be displaced, forced to commute into the city they once called home.

What is my role in all of this? Whether I like it or not, I am a participant in the dynamic of class warfare that is playing out here in my city. I am a homeowner in an area that the last census recorded as being 99% African American. As a white person and a newcomer to the city, it is likely that my family represents the vanguard of a future wave of gentrification and forced removals of lower-income, non-white residents. We chose the home we did because it was located in one of the few areas of the city where we could (barely) afford to buy. It seems ironic that our presence might help fuel a process that makes housing unaffordable for others.

This destructive dynamic of rising prices and displacement is not something that I want to encourage, but I do not see a clear way that I as an individual can participate in a solution. Instead, I mostly just feel sad about it, all the while struggling not to feel defensive when some people suggest that my family – as white, middle-class people – are somehow a plague on DC. We all need a place to live, and I am convinced that God has called me to settle here in DC. What can I do?

I cannot change who I am, nor would I want to. But how can I be an ally to my fellow DC residents who are not of my same ethnicity or class background? As one of the few white residents east of the Anacostia River, how can I participate respectfully in my neighborhood's civic life without imposing my own norms and expectations? Are there ways that I can work to address structural injustice that is helping to precipitate this situation? What does it look like to be an anti-racist, anti-classist, white, middle-class homeowner in a rapidly-gentrifying city?

Holy Anger

Have they no knowledge, those evildoers,

who eat up my people as they eat bread,

and do not call upon God?

...they will be put to shame, for God has rejected them.

- Psalm 53:4-5

This weekend, I had the opportunity to attend a conference sponsored by Project No One Leaves - a gathering of attorneys, organizers and activists who are working together to address the US housing crisis. Representing both the "shield" of legal defense and the "sword" of grassroots direct action, practitioners from around the country came together at Harvard Law School to connect and strategize for building a broad-based movement to keep residents in their homes and defend our neighborhoods from the abuses of predatory banks and investors.

I was particularly excited to get to know folks at City Life/Vida Urbana (CLVU), an established community group that organizes around issues of housing justice. CLVU is an inspiration for many of us in this movement - a case study in what success looks like, and a model to be replicated in other city regions. City Life/Vida Urbana has pioneered a "sword-and-shield" approach to housing organizing, pairing legal education and counseling by lawyers and students with the power of direct public pressure brought to bear on banks and investors.

The highlight of my time in Boston was Sunday, when I was able to participate in CLVU's campaign to challenge the dirty dealings of City Realty Group, which has bought up over a hundred properties across Boston and is systematically evicting tenants and imposing brutal rent increases to drive out working-class residents. We spent time Sunday canvassing properties owned by City Realty, talking with tenants about their rights, and encouraging them to come to CLVU meetings to get free legal counsel and organize with others in their same situation.

It was a powerful experience to witness the human cost of City Realty's business practices. One woman we talked to had her rent raised by $150 dollars when City Realty bought the building. She had been living in the building for five years and never missed a rent payment, but when her rental check was one day late she woke up to find an eviction notice on her door! I met another man who lost his home to foreclosure and tried to buy it back from the bank for $230,000. At the last moment, City Realty group swooped in and bought his home out from under him for $233,000. Then, they let him know that he could have it back, but it would cost him $490,000!

While we were canvassing, we actually ran into a couple of folks who apparently worked for City Realty. From what we could tell, the tenants of the building had been evicted, and these men were getting the property ready for new, higher-rent tenants. As we tried to engage them in conversation, they were intensely defensive. These men knew that they were up to no good.

Door-knocking in west Boston, we saw both sides of this story. We met those who had been struck, and those who were delivering the blow. We saw the working-class women and men of color who wanted to stay in their homes, and the wealthy investors who saw their homes purely as business opportunities. I was outraged at the gangster-like character of these real estate investors, whose business model relies on pushing families out of their homes. It was almost enough to make me want to move up to Boston and get involved in the fight. I was mad as hell!

Later on, I had the opportunity to debrief my experience with a friend. I told him about what I witnessed, how furious I was, how wrong the men at City Realty were, and how we had to fight back. My friend was clearly concerned about the way I was talking. "What about 'that of God' in the real estate investors?" he asked me. "Aren't we called to love them, too?"

This question surprised me. I had just described a grave injustice occurring - evictions, dispossessions, the livelihood of ordinary folks being gobbled up to line the pockets of a few crafty men - and my friend's first reaction was to talk about "loving" these perpetrators of structural violence?

Of course, as a follower of Jesus Christ, I am called to love my enemies. But that does not mean I do not have enemies, nor that I need to be nice to those who plot evil and eat up my people as if they were bread. Jesus knew how to call a fox a fox. He knew a den of vipers when he saw one. I looked into the face of evildoers yesterday, and I am not going to sugar-coat what I saw. I am not going to play nice with those who steal from orphans and widows.

It has never been clearer to me that there are times to bind up a whip of cords and chase out the moneychangers. Real love refuses to allow injustice to stand. If "loving" the oppressor means assuming the best about their motivations, I don't. If "loving" them means treating them with gentleness, allowing them to continue doing evil unchallenged, I can't.

Real love gets furious in the presence of oppression. Real love sees that the only way to freedom - for all of us, regardless of our station in life - is to work for justice for the widow and the orphan, the foreigner and the poor, those who are most marginalized in our society. We will be judged based on how we treat the least of these.

Too often, we religious people try to suppress anger. We want to skip over it, and go straight to joy, tenderness and healing. We want the resurrection without the crucifixion. I fear that, all too often, we worship a God who lets us off the hook, rather than a holy, righteous God who expects us to be transformed - who baptizes us with the Holy Spirit and with fire.

Anger is a gift from God. It is an alarm bell, alerting us to the presence of conditions that we should not accept. Before we can even consider how to speak tenderly to those who are taking advantage of our people, we must first know that wrong really is wrong. We must hear the wake-up call of anger, letting us know that this kind of behavior is unacceptable. We have to feel in our bones that dispossessing the poor is evil, that pushing families out of their homes for profit is a despicable business.

For a middle class person like me, it is easy for me to treat this kind of injustice as an abstraction, but I cannot do that anymore. Holy anger has woken me up. This struggle is real, and I have to be a part of it.

Staying Sane While Fighting Insanity

In the morning, while it was still very dark, Jesus got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, "Everyone is searching for you." He answered, "Let us go to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do." - Mark 1:35-38

This Saturday, I will be helping to lead a contemplative skills training for folks in the DC area who want to deepen their spiritual lives and explore contemplative practices that help ground us as we engage in social witness. This day-long retreat will be held at the William Penn House, just blocks away from the US Capitol, the Supreme Court, and many other centers of power.

It is, perhaps, a bit ironic for us to hold this retreat on Capitol Hill, in the geographical heart of the very system that often threatens to overwhelm us. Would it not make more sense to hold our retreat outside the city, in a more secluded and idyllic locale?

Maybe. But the reality is that most of us do not have that luxury. While many of us occasionally escape from the pressure cooker of life in Washington, these times away are generally too short and infrequent to form the basis of a healthy lifestyle. Washington is simply too big, and there is too much work to be done. If we are not able to make a sustainable life here where we live and work, this city will eat us alive.

In preparation for this retreat, I have been meditating on Jesus' prayer practice, and the way that he alternates between engagement with the world and retreat to places of safety and solitude. Jesus models a pattern of action and withdrawal that allows him to remember who he truly is, even as he is constantly pursued by friends, enemies and the ever-present crowds.

Jesus' practice of cultivating inward groundedness and equilibrium is crucial, because he has nothing else to lean on. Jesus has nowhere to rest his head - literally or figuratively. He is chased from one place to another and rarely allowed much time to simply breathe and settle. Those few moments where Jesus can retreat and remember his mission are truly precious - like oases in the desert.

The two places where Jesus seems to feel most at home is in the solitude of deserted places and in the company of his intimate friends. Jesus demonstrates a deep affinity for deserted places and time alone with God. Before beginning his ministry, Jesus spends 40 days fasting and praying in the wilderness before finally being tested by the devil. It is only after this time of solitude, prayer and preparation that he is ready to take the plunge into a three-year ministry that will cost him everything. Throughout those intense years, Jesus withdraws as often as he can, taking opportunities to be alone in prayer with his Father.

But these opportunities are limited. Jesus is always on the go - teaching and caring for his friends; speaking prophetically to those who oppose him; and attending to the needs of the crowds that pursue him relentlessly. Everyone seems to want a piece of Jesus - whether seeking a cure to illness, hope in the face of death, or forgiveness and release from sin. Jesus is even busier than most of us here in DC!

Yet, though Jesus is rarely permitted to be totally alone, it is clear that he finds solace among his inner circle of friends. He does not retreat with them only in order to teach and lead them more effectively - it seems that he also draws strength from their presence. Perhaps the prime example of this comes on the night he is betrayed. Jesus has retreated along with his disciples to the Mount of Olives, as usual. This night, however, is different from the others, and Jesus spends an extended period in fervent prayer, asking God to take away the cup of suffering and death that he sees before him.

At this time of greatest vulnerability, Jesus turns to his most trusted disciples. He asks them to stay awake with him and pray through the night. The fact that he asks this of the disciples demonstrates how Jesus relies on his friends for support and a sense of "home." The fact that the disciples fail to stay awake with him reveals just how homeless Jesus truly is.

Another, perhaps less well-known example of Jesus' practice of taking refuge among his friends is his habit of retreating to Bethany. During Jesus' ministry in the city of Jerusalem, it seems that he does not normally spend the night there. Jerusalem is the site of Jesus' most intense, confrontational ministry, and after Jesus cleanses the Temple and drives out the moneychangers, he makes a point of leaving the city, spending the night in the nearby town of Bethany.

Why Bethany? That is where Lazarus, Mary and Martha live. It is a place of safety, comfort and support. It is one of the few places on earth where Jesus knows he will be accepted and welcomed in as a friend. Jesus knows that he will never experience that kind of reception in Jerusalem. The capital city is a place of public praise and hidden plots - not friendship. It seems significant that when Jesus does spend the night in Jerusalem it is the very night that he is betrayed and handed over to death.

How does all this relate to our modern lives as people working for justice and mercy here in a different capital city? What can we learn from Jesus' cycle of retreat and engagement? What are we to make of his pattern of withdrawal into solitude and engagement with the masses, taking refuge among his closest friends while directly confronting the powers that be? How can we develop a similar practice, one that keeps us centered and ready to receive guidance from God?

God knows we need it! Jesus' ministry was of the most intense variety, but it only lasted for three years. What kind of intentional practices does it take to labor for decades in America's fallen Jerusalem, constantly irradiated by the spiritual energy of a city that is founded on the raw exercise of human power? What could it mean to find our own little Bethany, an intimate and supportive community of friends who remind us of who we truly are and encourage us to greater depth and boldness? 

Remembering Occupy DC - And Taking the Next Step

It was one year ago today, a cold and rainy October morning, when that first small band of us gathered in McPherson Square in downtown DC. We were young professionals, students, activists and organizers. Some of us had long experience in political action and organizing; many others had practically no background. But no matter how inexperienced or battle tested we were, no one had ever done anything like this before.

Just two weeks before, Occupy Wall Street had erupted in the financial district of lower Manhattan, starting a process that would galvanize untold thousands of young people across the world. The wave of transformative energy that we in the United States witnessed from afar during the Arab Spring had finally reached American shores. All of us felt the question rising within us: What might "regime change" look like in North America? What would it mean to break the power of the one percent, to bring human needs and ecological sustainability into the forefront of our collective consciousness?

Those of us gathered in McPherson Square that day did not come together to form a political party or endorse a candidate, nor did we assemble in order to promote a platform or a unified political philosophy. Instead, we discovered together that the genius of our movement was to create space to begin asking deeper questions. As Slavoj Žižek observed in those early days at Zucotti Park in New York, we live in a society that greatly limits our social imagination. "In technology and sexuality, everything seems to be possible. You can travel to the moon... But look at the field of society and economy. There, almost everything is considered impossible."

Though at first many of us - myself included - were baffled at Occupy's apparent lack of concrete demands, we soon discovered that this was a sign of collective genius. By refusing to make a narrow list of demands, we instead fulfilled our true mission: to ask the right questions. Why do we live in a society where the wealthiest one percent of our citizenry controls most of the material resources and political power? What does it mean for the sustainability of a democratic society when the middle class is systematically decimated, swelling the ranks of the working poor and unemployed? What does it say about our society when public services for the most vulnerable are attacked as wasteful dependency, while welfare for giant corporations and the super-rich is regarded as an economic necessity?

What would happen if we refused to play by Wall Street's rules?

The Occupy movement has played a vital role in awakening the prophetic imagination of my generation. By creating a space where we could ask the essential questions, Occupy Wall Street has catalyzed a chain reaction whose ultimate effects are still unfolding. We will probably never know how many tens of thousands of new leaders were baptized into the work of economic justice and peace-building in the final months of 2011. And our work is just beginning.

I join many others today in remembering the amazing, surprising movement that we experienced in those early days last fall. The electricity of the moment was palpable in the autumn air. There were times when we were gathered up into a sense of collective power that made us feel larger than life. Everything seemed possible. We had no idea what might come next.

We still don't. On this, the first anniversary of Occupy DC, I will tip my hat to those glorious early days. I will indulge briefly in nostalgia for what once was. But then I will turn my face once again to this present moment, and to the future that remains mysterious, unwritten and full of holy surprises.

Today, I recommit myself to the calling that I felt last fall. I give thanks for the work of the Spirit in our midst. It is this living Presence which gives me courage to trust that although today does not look like yesterday and tomorrow is unknown, we will be guided together if we continue to gather in hope, faith and love. Returning once again to Žižek's impassioned speech to those gathered in Zucotti Park last October:

What is Christianity? It's the Holy Spirit. What is the Holy Spirit? It's an egalitarian community of believers who are linked by love for each other, and who only have their own freedom and responsibility to do it. In this sense, the Holy Spirit is here now. And down there on Wall Street, there are pagans who are worshiping blasphemous idols. So all we need is patience. The only thing I’m afraid of is that we will someday just go home and then we will meet once a year, drinking beer, and nostalgically remembering “What a nice time we had here.” Promise yourselves that this will not be the case.

Holy Spirit, come. Fall on us once again and give us the strength to follow your leading, regardless of how different it might be from what we once imagined. Give us courage and power, patience and humility to become poor and submit ourselves to suffering for the sake of your love. Make us like your son, Jesus, who out of love for us endured the cross and whom you have raised with power to your right hand. Help us to remember the ways you have already guided us, and then inspire us once again to step out in faith, into the hidden horizon of your next great surprise.

Growing and Adapting - Micah's Ministry Newsletter #46

Dear friends,

This week, Faith and I are out in Wichita, Kansas visiting my family. Since I moved out East, Faith and I have typically made a trip back to Kansas in the early summer and then again for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. This year, however, we are making the holiday trip early so that we can see my grandmother who is visiting from Newberg, Oregon. She turns ninety this year, but she has the energy and focus of a much younger person. I just hope those longevity genes got passed along to me!

Though we are out of town now, for most of the last month I have been able to stay put in DC. After a summer of constant travel, it has been nice to settle into a routine of work, home life and participation in my local communities. I feel like I have made more human connections in the past year than in the two that went before. This is due in large part to my involvement in the Occupy movement, which introduced me to hundreds of wonderful people and plugged me into the DC-area justice community.

Much of my activity this month has been organizing with Occupy Our Homes DC. We are partnering with two homeowners right now, Deborah Harris and Michael Vanzant, both of whom are struggling to stay in their homes after becoming disabled. Both Deborah and Michael have been pillars of their communities, with Deborah working as an EMT/Paramedic with the DC Fire Department and Michael serving Faith Temple Church - DC's first African-American, LGBT-affirming church - as a pastor.

Since becoming disabled, each of them has been forced into early retirement. Unfortunately, their disability payments are far lower than their salary was. Even more unfortunately, the banks - JP Morgan Chase and Bank of America - showed no interest in working with either of them. As we have seen time and again in this work, the banks are more interested in making a little extra profit than they are in ensuring that good, hard-working people can stay in the homes where they have lived for decades.

As we move forward, Occupy Our Homes DC is doing a lot of learning and growing. Our organization has only been in existence since January, and much of our work has had to do with developing the capacity to sustain long-term campaigns. Given that our efforts are entirely on a volunteer basis, this is a great challenge indeed. How can we expand our base and nurture the communications, relationships and expertise that we will need to truly challenge "business as usual"? As we labor slowly through this process, I am very grateful for your prayers, words of encouragement and support.

It has been a blessing to be consistently present in DC this past month. I am feeling increasingly grounded in all of the work that I do - including my grassroots organizing with Occupy Our Homes, my ministry with Capitol Hill Friends, and my employment with Friends United Meeting. Being in town week in and week out has allowed me to develop a somewhat regular routine, setting schedules for writing, web development and coordination with co-workers around the world. Working remotely has huge advantages, and with the help of web-based tools I am feeling increasingly integrated into the "virtual office" that I share with my colleagues in Richmond, Indiana; Kisumu, Kenya; and throughout the worldwide community of Friends United Meeting.

My complete job description with FUM encompasses electronic communications, web development and social media strategy. In these early months, however, my work is almost entirely focused on doing web development. I have been putting a lot of time into FUM's new website, which is scheduled for launch this month. It never ceases to amaze me what a protracted process web development is! Tasks that seem simple can often take hours to complete. For a big-picture person like me, building websites is a process of developing my own attention to detail.

Despite my natural tendency to shy away from this sort of detail-oriented work, I seem to be doing a lot of it. In addition to my paid work with FUM, I've designed and launched a new website for Ohio Yearly Meeting. It has sort of snuck up on me, but I seem to be developing a growing portfolio of web work. Maybe websites are a modern version of tents.

Capitol Hill Friends continues to gather for regular worship on Sunday evenings at the William Penn House. Attendance has been very low this month, which is predictable given the ebb and flow of the seasons. August is probably the worst month out of the year for any group, as far as attendance is concerned. Yet, at the same time we have been challenged by the loss of several dedicated members of our community. Lily Rockwell, an intern at the William Penn House this past year, left for graduate school in mid-July. Over the course of the last year, she brought so much quiet strength and depth to our fellowship, and it has been a major blow to lose her. Just weeks later, we said goodbye to two summer interns, Sammy and Ceress Sanders, who had been very active at Capitol Hill Friends. In a group as small as ours, the absence of these three is very keenly felt.

In the midst of all of this transition, the core membership that remains at CHF has been considering how the Lord might be leading us as we move forward. Faith, John Smallwood and I have been carrying this group for the last two and a half years, and the burden is becoming increasingly heavy. It has become increasingly clear that we may need to change in order for us to be faithful as a community.

This past week, Faith and I met with many of Capitol Hill Friends' regular attenders to gauge where people were at in terms of their relationship with the group. During these meetings, we considered several questions together, such as: What is working well at Capitol Hill Friends? What has life, and what might we consider dropping? Is Capitol Hill Friends a community where we feel God calling us to commit ourselves, or is CHF still primarily an "event" rather than a congregation?

As a result of our conversations, it does seem like some of our attenders feel a deep connection with Capitol Hill Friends, considering it their primary spiritual home. Many others get a lot out of attending CHF, but consider other congregations (whether Quaker or non-Quaker) to be their primary community. At this stage, it does feel like there is a core group emerging that desires to take responsibility for the life of our fellowship, as well as a number of others who feel less committed but who do want to participate on an occasional basis.

This feels hopeful for Faith and me. Though we started Capitol Hill Friends on our own, it was never our intention for the group to be simply an "event" that we hosted. We are encouraged to see that others may be feeling called to share the responsibilities of nurture, care and decision-making for the community.

In the months ahead, there are definitely some decisions to be made. There is a growing sense that we probably need to change the format and timing of our meetings. We also have continuing questions about who we are called to serve, and how to do so. It has been less than three years since Faith and I first invited Friends to join us for worship in the conference room of the William Penn House, and Capitol Hill Friends is still in its infancy. It feels like we are just at the beginning of the journey, discovering who God is calling us to be together.

As we continue this process of exploration, discernment and deepening in the way of Jesus, I am so grateful for the prayers that our wider community offers up to God for us. Please do not stop interceding on our behalf. We could never sustain this work without the daily guidance, strengthening and conviction of the Holy Spirit.

In the coming month, please continue to pray for Capitol Hill Friends, Occupy Our Homes DC, and Friends United Meeting. Pray that God's hand be on me, guiding and preparing me so that I may be a faithful servant of the Lord Jesus Christ in each of these communities where I serve.

May the love and peace of our Lord be with all of you.

Micah Bales

Bank of America: Cease Your Evictions of My People!

Thus says the Lord God: Enough, O princes of Israel! Put away violence and oppression, and do what is just and right. Cease your evictions of my people, says the Lord God. - Ezekiel 45:9

Yesterday, Occupy Our Homes DC paid a visit to Bank of America's Home Loans Office in the historic African-American U Street neighborhood. We rallied on behalf of Michael Vanzant, pastor of Faith Temple Church, the first LGBT-affirming, African American church in the District of Columbia. For decades, Michael Vanzant has selflessly served others - opening his home to those in need, leading Bible studies, and shepherding a congregation that welcomes men and women who are often excluded from fellowship in other churches. Since the 1980s, he has been a pillar of his community.

During this time, Michael's home has served as a center of community life. It has been a place of study, prayer and hospitality for the stranger. His home is a refuge for for those seeking a deeper life of faith. Unfortunately, that is not how Bank of America sees it.

When Bank of America looks at a home, they do not see a residence, a place of sanctuary and a center of community. They see a property - an engine of percentage-based profit - and if by evicting the current owner they can produce a few percentage points more per year, they will do it. The human element does not even enter into it.

When Michael Vanzant became disabled in 2008, he had trouble making his full mortgage payment and he approached Bank of America for a loan modification. They flatly denied him. For Bank of America, an uninterrupted profit stream was more important than a disabled pastor's home, and the stability of his whole community.

Our job at Occupy Our Homes is to remind Bank of America that human lives are precious. We were not created to be bought, sold and thrown out of our homes because of circumstances beyond our control. Our mission is to help Bank of America see that there is a cost when they violate the basic dignity of individuals and families. When the banks intrude on the intimacy of our homes just to make a little more profit, there will be a response.

Bank of America is learning that when they attack our communities, our families and our faith leaders, we will no longer remain silent. Occupy Our Homes DC is part of a broad and growing coalition of grassroots organizations across the United States that is resisting the unrestrained greed and predatory lending practices of financial institutions like Bank of America. Together, we are insisting that the needs of our families, faith communities and neighborhoods take precedence over the endless thirst for bigger and bigger profits.

For me - and, I suspect, for members of Faith Temple Church - I am discovering that we stand in a rich biblical tradition of witness for economic justice. Those ancient Hebrew prophets - Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel and so many others - are coming alive with freshness and meaning.

We are re-discovering that God stands with the poor and needy. God denounces the unchecked greed of the wealthy, those who devour the homes of the defenseless. The prophetic tradition reveals that God is not satisfied with pretty words and pious ritual. The true and living God demands justice and equity, mercy for the poor and liberation for those who are in bondage.

I stand with pastor Michael Vanzant, and with the brothers and sisters at Faith Temple Church, as we explore what it means to stand in the tradition of the prophets, to call Bank of America to stop evicting our people. Together, we stand in faith that the God of Israel is not sleeping, but is at work in this dark night that can be felt.

Will you join with us in shining a light on Bank of America's unjust lending practices? Will you stand in solidarity with Michael Vanzant as he fights to stay in his home and retire in dignity? How might God be calling you into the work of the prophets - naming and revealing the predations of the powerful, calling all of us into the Peaceable Kingdom where there is enough for everyone when we are willing to share? Can you feel the motion of righteous love within you?

Organizing the Church

My involvement with the Occupy movement this year has given me a lot of insight into the way groups of people unite around a common set of concerns. In my work with Occupy Our Homes, I have seen the power that can be unleashed when a small group of people focus their passion to work together for justice. And in recent months I have spent time studying and testing models of community organizing that could forge our organization into a more effective instrument of empowerment for the 99%.

As I have begun to explore the practice of community organizing, a whole new world has opened up for me. I am particularly inspired by the pioneering strategic philosophy of Saul Alinsky and his successors. While by no means do I agree with the whole of Alinsky's ideology (especially his abysmally cynical view of human nature), I know in my gut that his model, which has been refined and enriched by successive generations of organizers, is of great value. I feel the need to integrate the wisdom of this tradition into my own life and work.

This will involve integrating my "religious" concern as a gospel minister and my "social" concern as a budding organizer for economic justice. Looking to Jesus, I see that his "spiritual" mission was never separated from his "social" mission. Spiritual liberty and material emancipation from social and economic bondage have always been two sides of the same coin. I serve the Savior who brings not merely an invisible, "spiritual" rebirth, but a genuine refashioning of the whole human community. As Jesus revealed when he was nailed to a cross for sedition against the Roman state, the gospel is dangerously practical!

Is my own faith similarly practical? Does the life of my community reveal the messianic Kingdom of Jesus - the visible, redeemed network of social relationships that God created us for? Does the life of the Church bear witness to the wholeness, justice, mercy and love of the God of Isaiah?

As a Christian in the United States, these questions challenge me. I see how many of our Christian communities have far too little to do with the living power of Jesus' gospel. So often, we fail to combine the inward work of spiritual transformation with the outward labor of making the Kingdom of God visible.

Rather than dividing the work of spiritual transformation and social justice between religious and secular institutions, how could we embody the dynamic inward/outward tension that Jesus demonstrates? What might the practice of community organizing teach us about building healthy congregations that exist to serve our neighbors?

Community Organizing and the Gospel

As I get excited about community-based organizing here in DC, I cannot help but notice the parallels between the work of the organizer and the labor of the gospel minister. When I reflect on the work of Paul, Margaret Fell, George Fox and so many other servants of the gospel, it seems clear that their ministry did not consist of simply delivering a verbal proclamation about Jesus and demanding intellectual assent to certain propositions.

Nor did they limit their ministry to individuals. Christ's apostles throughout the ages have clearly seen their role as being to challenge and nurture entire communities. The gospel is not merely limited to some sort of interior heart-change; everywhere that the good news of Jesus is authentically proclaimed and received, the Holy Spirit unleashes a wave of counter-cultural activity, transforming communities in the very practical details of their lives - spiritual, social and economic.

Throughout the Scriptures and the history of the Christian Church, there is a strong connection between sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ and empowering local communities to work for justice. Faith without works is dead and, in the grand scheme of things, works without community are limited, at best.

When I recognize that Jesus founded his ministry on a proclamation of debt forgiveness and human liberation, the implications are clear. No longer can I let myself off the hook, imagining that the purpose of faith is to make me feel good, or even to make me personally righteous. Instead, I must face the reality that my own salvation is bound up in the groaning of all creation, and that I have a role to play in the story of cosmic liberation.

At the same time, my role in this grand narrative usually does not seem "cosmic" at all. Organizing for justice is some of the most brutally earthy work I know. What could be more tangible than walking into a neighborhood where you do not live, knocking on the door of someone you do not know, and asking whoever answers, "What are your deepest concerns? What do you and others in your community feel passionate about? What is the change that you wish to see?" Community organizing is all about particular, personal relationships. We often only see the transcendent once we have taken the plunge into the terrifying work of being human.

What is the connection between gospel ministry and community organizing? When I go canvassing in DC neighborhoods, my goal is not to convince those whom I meet to accept the gospel as I understand it. Instead, I am focused on practical human needs, obstacles that have been placed in the way, and the tools that we need to get our community's needs met. The immediacy of the human precedes the transcendent. If we see God, it is only from behind.

But that does not mean that there is no divine connection. As I understand it, the goal of community organizing is to draw out the hidden creativity, passion, energy and thirst for justice that lies latent in all human communities. For me, that hints at something even deeper. Where does that hidden power come from? Who is the source of our hunger and thirst for structural justice and personal righteousness? Who inspires the love that allows a community to unite around its weakest members and see an aggression against one as an attack on everyone?

I believe that this Source Jesus Christ. If I can be an instrument to call out the secret power that lies waiting in every human community, I believe that I am nurturing the life of the gospel. If I can help equip a community to draw nearer to the source of all justice, righteousness and love, I know that I am participating in the process of drawing people to Jesus through the power of his Holy Spirit. I trust that, through this process, the Lord will provide me openings to share about the source of my passion and joy. If I am ready to give an account of the hope that is within me, some may be encouraged to explore a deeper, more explicit relationship with Jesus.

How have you seen God at work in your community? What has been your experience of being part of a community that is lovingly challenged and nurtured - whether by explicit gospel ministry, Spirit-led eldership, or apparently secular community organizing? How have you experienced God calling you to organize in your community, to lift up the hidden life and power of God?