Below the Belt

Ever wonder what the first Christian communities were really like?  All love and peace and harmony, right? And especially when Jesus was there, we can easily slip into this vision of a wonderful party, with shades of Jesus Christ Superstar, of a bunch of nice men basking in the glow of Jesus, who like those old paintings I remember from Sunday School, shone even in the middle of the night, he was so holy.

Sweet, wonderful glow in the dark Jesus, going around and healing people, hugging children, and being helpful and forgiving to everyone he met.  Acting like a shepherd, getting his portrait painted with baby lambs in his arms and gazing thoughtfully up into the sky.

Well, if that’s our picture of Jesus and his followers, how do we deal with the scriptures today?  The book of James describes would-be Christians as greedy assassins.  Listen again, “You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts.”  James was supposed to be the brother of Jesus, and the leader of the people of Jerusalem.  So here we have a vision of a rather drastic Church community that James is trying to lead. 

Mark’s gospel is not much better.  The disciples are so wrapped up in their own fighting that they are ashamed and embarrassed when Jesus asks them what they were talking about.  They don’t want to admit that they don’t understand what he’s teaching.  “I’m the greatest!”  “No, I am!” the argument goes on and on until Jesus challenges them.  Just like two kids yelling at each other in the basement when Mom or Dad asks, “What’s going on down there?”

If we look for advice about being community, being church in a challenging time, Jesus and James have the same message.  Keep your big picture in mind.  Don’t go hitting each other below the belt in unfair fights.  Don’t get greedy or violent or selfish or manipulative.

That’s easier said than done.  It’s much more fun to be the victim, resenting how so and so treated me, or the way that I’m going to treat that jerk who’s been attacking me and deserves to suffer.  Revenge is a dish that’s best served up cold, and get them before they get me, right?

Neither Jesus nor James agree.  They don’t think much of the quarrels, complaints, whining, grumbling and competitive jostling for power and status among God’s followers.  In short, don’t act like some politicians who use fear and attack ads to tear down other people.  Don’t go below the belt, don’t act aggressively.  Don’t grasp after possessions or power.  Be more like children.

I don’t know about you, but children have been on my mind a lot recently.  First it was the photograph of Alan Kurdi drowned on a beach after leaving Syria, then it was the horrific story of Hailey Dunbar-Blanchette in Blairmore.  And just yesterday more Syrian children drowned trying to cross to safety.  So when I hear children in the gospel, that’s what I imagine, a child like Alan or Hailey in the centre of a circle of quarrelsome men.

Put a small child in the middle of a bunch of adults, and watch the little ones play, be curious, ask for rides on shoulders, and have very little in the way of power and authority.  A two year old is not going to run for Prime Minister, for example.  And some of you might remember that children were seen in the ancient world as having no status except as a possession of their fathers’, and in some cultures, as disposable as the fathers saw fit.

Children are vulnerable.  They can’t feed themselves when they are very little, they need someone to cook for them and provide for them.  They have to ask for help to even survive.  They have no power over where they live, or what conditions they live in.  But they do have the ability to ask.  Even a newborn will cry when it’s hungry in a bid to get help.

Here’s where I think James and Jesus both challenge us to ask ourselves what is really important.  What do we want our children to feel: welcomed, accepted, loved, vindicated, forgiven, liberated, and hopeful?  If the disciples had thought about what they had wanted in a different way, maybe instead they could have said, “we’d like have a better future for our children, we’d like to have more fair play and fair employment for ourselves and our neighbors, we’d like to feel that we weren’t alone in the struggles of an unfair government system, and we’d like to live free from oppression and the threat of violence.

To me it sounds like they are both trying to lead us to simplify what our purpose is in our lives.  To not get all caught up in the daily grind until we lose hope and dignity and kindness, but to remember to connect our lives to a higher purpose, a higher dream, a loftier hope.  A dream that never dies but keeps on showing us the way to a life where we can know real peace and belonging, gentleness and all of that with true integrity and trustworthiness in the service of something much bigger than ourselves, that will leave behind a legacy we can be proud of.  We can follow in the footsteps of James and the other quarrelsome disciples who found themselves profoundly transformed into a community that healed and encouraged, practised generosity and transparency for the greater good of all no matter what your age.  For the vision of God’s beautiful, kind and peaceful community lived among us every day. May we too work for such a vision of God’s kingdom among us.

Talking about the Tough Stuff

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Christianity is not a pilgrim path for the light-hearted or the lazy.  Our lives are on the line, and this is a daily experience.  We humans don’t like to talk about death much, and here in our scriptures, Jesus did just that.  He talked about his life purpose and his death to disciples who were still trying to figure things out.  Jesus challenged them to change their attitudes towards life and towards who he was.  In two of our gospels, Matthew and in Mark, the writers wanted us to know that he had this conversation not in Jerusalem or in Nazareth or even in Samaria.  He had ‘the talk’ in Caesarea Philippi, the district filled with Roman temples and Hebrew rulers like Herod who had compromised their faith in order to fit in with the government of Rome.  I don’t know about you, but talking about being the Messiah, the hero that the people hoped would save them from empires, in the shadow of a roman temple sounds pretty suicidal to me.  I think it would be like driving a Volt to the Syncrude plant in Fort McMurray, or going to downtown Edmonton during rush hour traffic in a John Deer tractor, parking it in the middle of Churchill Square and talk to your buddies about where you are going to plant the corn and the canola next spring.  Yeah, over there by that statue, that gets plenty of sunshine, or it will once we bulldoze the Citadel Theatre.

No wonder Peter called Jesus on it.  Let’s not talk about death!  Let’s not talk about losing the war before we’ve even grabbed our weapons!  For Peter thought it would be about war, most people did think the prophecy would come about with bloodshed and violence.  Being right could only be proved by forcing people at sword-point to realize it.  Might is right, and if God is with us, why, Jesus, why are you talking about defeat?

Going back to Churchill Station, the farmer says, yup, I’ll probably demolish this and that to get the farmland back and then the cops will shoot me.  Nobody wants to hear such a thing.  It sounds like suicide, and perhaps that was what was going on in Peter’s head too.  Jesus being rash, Jesus not having a plan for success, Jesus needs to go off on one of those retreats to teach leaders how to be, well, a better leader.  Nobody wants to follow someone who is already talking about defeat.  About death.

Speaking of death is never easy.  I got an e-mail this week from the Movember fellows who raise money and awareness for prostate and testicular cancer.  This time Movember tackled suicide prevention.  They wrote, “Men are pretty good at talking about sports, work, movies or the latest gadget, but we need to get better at talking about the significant stuff going on in our lives - things like losing a job, the breakdown of a relationship or becoming a father for the first time. These things happen to all of us, and for some, they prove challenging to the point where they have the potential to derail us.”

I was surprised to read this and even more surprised to hear that in Canada, 11 people will die today by their own hand.  That’s more than breast cancer.  Men are more successful than women at suicide, and usually get it right the first time.  Nunavut, if it was a country, would have the second highest suicide rate in the world.  The most dangerous time for men is when they are between 45 and 49 years old, and there is an upswing again at 80.  Children as young as 10 are recorded, too.  Factors that contribute can be unemployment, depression, sexual orientation, living on reserve, family violence, substance abuse or just the challenges of living in a hectic society where no one seems to have time to listen.

Listening is the key.  Being a safe person, a sanctuary for those feelings can make a huge difference to those who are struggling.  And it happens to us all.  We all know someone or of someone who made that terrible choice.  The day that I heard our church treasurer had let depression get the best of him and that his family and children were in shock was a turning point for one congregation.  But it’s not just people struggling with mental illness.  I can remember when I was a young adult away at university wondering what it would feel like and would anyone notice or care.  There didn’t seem to be anything to hope for in my life.  I was a dunce with boys, I was flunking out of school, I was a drain on my parents’ finances, and I didn’t have someone to talk to.  Luckily for me, or God was at work, someone came into my life, listened without putting his agenda on me and said, “have you thought about going back to church?”  What a stupid idea that was! How could some moldy old superstition have anything to do with my life?  But it gave me hope, and it gave me a purpose and it gave me many someones I could really talk to.

Movember wrote, “Tragically, for too many men, the first and only time they talk about how these changes have affected them is in a suicide note. So, we have a simple message - Men, we need to talk, especially when things get tough.”

Jesus knew how to talk about the dark and dangerous things, he talked honestly about his life and the life of his followers.  We who call him “messiah”, are called to also be honest and talk about the tough stuff.  However, we need to remember James’ wise words that our tongues can be dangerous.  Not all of us are able to rein it in and listen calmly without interruption to taboo topics.  Not all of us are called to be teachers or suicide prevention experts.  But we can point the way to people we know are good listeners.  We can say, “so and so is safe,” or “let me drive you to the emergency room”, or “let me go with you to the doctor’s office” and so on.  We can ask, “where do you find hope?” and remember that for hundreds of years, people just like us have pointed to gatherings just like this as a place to find that hope.  Jesus is my hope and my messiah.  Who do you say that he is?

The Syrophoenician mother (Mark 7:24-37)

A Dramatic Monologue

Well, that didn’t go the way I expected! Most things go the way I expect, it’s the nature of the job I’m in, well, my husband and I of course.  I know, most people would be shocked at such a well-known person as myself in this neighborhood.  I can usually be found in the nicer end of town, with the other merchants.  After all, my family has been there as far back as we can remember, selling our dyes around the world.  You’ve seen emperors and kings wearing the purple that only they can afford, woven from thread dyed in our vats.  Our people have sailed around the world for hundreds of years as successful merchants because of the sea shells in our waters.  Everyone has heard of my people, and most folks welcome our traders with open arms!

I wish I could say the same for our neighbors.  Those troublesome Hebrews who think they are the center of the universe.  They have sneered at our Gods, knocked over our altars, and been a quarrelsome bunch ever since they arrived.  They’ve caused nothing but trouble for our greatest heros, too.  You’ve heard of Goliath, right?  So tall and so mighty a warrior that he could end wars and battles just by walking onto the field.  Sure prevented a lot of unnecessary bloodshed in his day.  At least he did, until some pipsqueak had a lucky shot with a slingshot.  And just a kid, if I remember rightly.  And our most famous heroine also helped prevent wars.  Remember, Delilah, right? She used her brains and beauty, and even her hair dresser to stop one of their fiercest warriors in his tracks.  What was his name again? S something, and stories said he had a whole lifetime of bad hair days until she fixed him up.  So if I’ve got height and smarts, I’ve come by it naturally, with such noble ancestors as that!

So when my housemaids were gossiping instead of doing their duties, I eavesdropped before giving my usual scolding.  Turns out it was a good thing.  One of their countrymen was in town for a visit, a Hebrew man and his friends.  The leader of the group was some kind of faith healer, and judging from the gossip of the girls, much more effective than the run of the mill shysters and snake oil salesmen we usually see around here.  We’ve seen our share of the medics, healers, doctors and priests these last eight years.  My husband used to go down to the docks when our trade ships came in, hoping that some Greek-trained doctor might be able to help.  We even turned to the Roman surgeons with their leeches and blood-letting, but those Roman fellows are more handy with a saw than a potion.  We borrowed the Governor’s personal physician, too.  No one helped. They tried, goodness knows, but they all gave up in the end, except the ones who kept promising better results with larger amounts of gold.  We gave up on them long before they gave up on us.  Like my husband says, “Never match wits with a Phoenician.”

The bizarre thing the girls said is that this guy never asked for payment.  Inconceivable! They always want something.  Every last one of them have their hand out for something.  And as my husband says, “you get what you pay for”, especially when it comes to healers.  But this time it felt like a sign.  My husband had told me just this morning that he was tired of throwing good money after bad and we had just better get used to the fact that no one knew how to help our daughter.

I was heartbroken, of course, and went straight to my daughter’s room.  It didn’t help that she was in the throes of another fit.  They seem to be getting stronger the older she gets, and it’s everything we can do to keep her from biting her tongue clean through, or to keep servants around to help take care of her.

So like I said, it felt like a godsend when I heard the girls gossiping, and I had a pretty good idea where I’d find them, in one of the bigger houses in the Hebrew neighborhood.  So I put on my most subdued shawl, they have some crazy notion that women should keep their heads covered, and made my way here.

I’m not sure what I expected, but I didn’t expect the look of hostility I got when I walked into the room.  I’m used to my gold rings and fine clothes bringing me a good deal of respect, especially amongst people like them.  They smelled of fish and sheep, for goodness sake!  It was immediately obvious to me who the leader was, he held himself like a temple priest, with dignity and quiet authority.  I didn’t care, if he could fix my daughter, I didn’t care what they thought of me, or my people, or my gods or my temples or my employment.  The only thing that mattered was my daughter!

I guessed that money would not buy this man’s help, but I could not believe him calling me a dog! Or my people dogs! I said the first thing that came to mind, “Even the dogs get crumbs from the children’s table!”

As soon as I said it, I knew that my big mouth had doomed my daughter.  These Hebrew men don’t like their women to talk to them in public, and with such disrespect, too.  I started to cry in anger and fear and helplessness.  My husband was right.  She was doomed through no fault of her own.  Then he touched my shoulder.  I looked up, and saw him, really saw him for the first time.  This man, this teacher, he looked tired, like the whole world was on his shoulders, like he had to carry a burden far too big for him, like he could see into the future and what he saw there was not pleasant.  Like he was trying to heal everyone in the short time he had left.  I could feel goosebumps at his gaze.

He smiled sadly at me.  For a moment it felt like we were the only people in the room and we had both forgotten to breathe.  “So many children, so many lost, and sick and dying children,” he whispered.  “So many mothers risking their lives and their hearts to find hope for their children.”

He said my daughter is healed because of I dared to challenge him.  I believe him, even though I haven’t gone home yet.  And once I get back, I’m going to see what I can do to help those other children who are lost, sick or abandoned.  My servant girls can help, now that my daughter is going to be okay.  I hope he comes back, or his followers.  It’s not just about me after all.  Sometimes we need to challenge our leaders, and sometimes we need to see a bigger story.  There’s so much to do, and so much to learn.  He can’t do it all himself, and if I can take some of that burden from his shoulders, I will have done a good thing.  It’s the least I can do.

The Pillow Method

Posted 05-02-08 at 11:20 AM by Grafter

I was introduced to this communication tool during an Interpersonal Communications course I attended at my University. The Pillow Method was reportedly developed by a group of Japanese school children and first reported by writer Paul Reps in the book Square Sun, Square Moon published in 1967. Its purpose is to help boost empathy or find merit in another’s position. The name comes from the analogy that a pillow has four sides and a middle, just like all problems. By working though each side of the problem, viewing an issue from each perspective, we should be able to find value in another’s perspective.

I've created a visual to illustrate the method and positions and attached to this blog.. In the center I placed a symbol synonymous with finding direction, a compass rose. In this case I have used the Numbers one through four instead of north, south, east, and west to signify where to begin and which direction to move toward.

Position 1: I’m Right, You’re Wrong. This is the perspective most of us default to when we view an idea or hear a differing point of view. It is the perspective that we believe and have faith in, and requires little effort for us to understand. As a metaphor I have used the yellow circle with the green border to signify “I’m right.” The blue circle with the red border and cross hash symbolizes “You’re wrong.”

Position 2: You’re Right, I’m Wrong. In this position we must play devil’s advocate and begin looking for flaws in our own perspective. It also requires us to find the strengths in the other’s position or view. This is often the most difficult task to accomplish However, the fact that we can understand another’s position does mean we have to approve of it. Position 2 is represented by the same metaphors of Position 1, but are reversed in this case.

Position 3: Both Right, Both Wrong. Once arriving at the third position we should be able to acknowledge the strengths and weaknesses of both perspectives. Each side has merit and flaws. More importantly, we should be able to identify commonalities between our positions. Position 3 is represented on the pillow with two yellow and green circles and two blue and red circles. We now have a broader view than we previously had.

Position 4: The Issue Isn’t as Important as It Seems. In this view we may find that we have made the issue out to be bigger than it truly is. Even in the most severe or traumatic events the effects of the dispute will eventually lesson or fade away. I have used the same yellow and blue circles to signify this position. In this case they surround question marks as if asking “What were we arguing about?”

Position 5: There Is Truth in All Four Perspectives. The process of looking at an issue from these four positions should yield the idea that most disagreements contain both right and wrong elements. Whether or not we have reached agreement, we are able find merit or understating of an opposing position. This is the middle ground. I have used the Japanese script for “Truth” to signify this position and to give appreciation to the young Japanese children who have been credited with The Pillow Method.

Attached Thumbnails

Position 1: I’m Right, You’re Wrong.

Position 2: You’re Right, I’m Wrong.

Position 3: Both Right, Both Wrong.

Position 4: What’s the bigger picture?

Position 5: There Is Truth in All Four Sides