Relocation and incarnation are two big words in the world of Christian community development. They're also, i'm beginning to realize, complicated.
Relocation is one of the three R's that John M. Perkins, civil rights veteran and founder of the Christian Community Development Association, teaches. Basically, as i understand it, relocation is the idea that in order to come alongside the poor in the development of their communities and the realization of their aspirations, you actually have to come alongside them. You have to move into their neighborhood. You have to make their grocery shopping options your grocery shopping options. You have to make their kids' schools your kids' schools. You have to make their transportation options your transportation options. You have to make their (lack of) healthcare your (lack of) healthcare. That way you don't have a vague idea about what their problems are, as you commute to their poor neighborhood from your middle-class neighborhood to help them solve their problems. Your problems are their problems, and you overcome your problems together.
Relocation, in Christian community development circles, often gets couched in the language of incarnation. Basically (again, according to my understanding and simply put), since Jesus "became flesh and made his dwelling among us," (John 1: 14), that is, became a human being in order to liberate human beings, we also, as people of wealth and privilege, ought to become poor in order to participate in the liberation of the poor. Jesus, though being in very nature God, "made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness" (Philippians 2: 6). Likewise, we do not liberate the poor from positions of privilege and power, but instead, live among the poor as servants. When Jesus sent out his 12 disciples to tell people about the kingdom of God, he said, "Take nothing for the journey - no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra shirt" (Luke 9: 3). Likewise, Christians working among the poor bring no staff, no bread (although i did bring two suitcases, a few extra shirts, and a credit card). In other words, they go simply, depending on God's providence and the generosity of their hosts.
My commitment to living and working among the urban poor in Latin America was born out of my involvement in InterVarsity's Global Urban Trek, where we study the passages relating to incarnation, read about "new friars organizations" - new monastic movements of people of privilege who have decided to live among the poor whether in the U.S. or internationally, organizations like The Simple Way, Servant Partners, InnerChange, Servants to Asia's Poor, etc -, and work for five weeks or so with "incarnational ministries" in Mexico City, Lima, Cairo, and others. Learning about God's heart for humanity (and God's option for the poor) that led God to incarnate among us and experiencing the worshipful service among God's poor had an absolutely profound effect on me. That relocation is an important element in people of privilege participating in community development seems fairly obvious to me now. And utilizing the language and concepts related to incarnation provides Christians with a useful metaphor for relocation. So what's so complicated about that?
Well, first of all, to say that i would be willing or able to fully become one of the poor of Nueva Suyapa is pretentious and betrays a lack of understanding of the depth of poverty.
Here is where i quote extensively from Henri Nouwen, namely pages 115-16 of Gracias!, where he writes from a marginalized community in Lima. Feel free to read, skim, or skip (i would suggest the first):
Can we truly live with the poor? Although i live with them and share their life to some extent, I am far from poor. During the noon hour, I walk to the rectory in Ciudad de Dios and eat a good meal prepared by a good cook, and one day a week I go to the Maryknoll center house in Miraflores to take a shower, sleep in, and have a day of relaxation.
So my living with the poor hardly makes me poor. Should it be different? Some say yes, some say no. Some feel that to be a priest for the poor, you should be no different from them, others say that such is not realistic or even authentic.
I have been here only one week, and thus am unable to have an opinion, but I know one thing: right now I would be physically, mentally, and spiritually unable to survive without the opportunity to break away from it all once in awhile... I love living here, but I am also glad that I can escape it for two hours a day and for one day a week. Living here not only makes me aware that I have never been poor, but also that my whole way of being, thinking, feeling, and acting is molded by a culture radically different from the one I live in now. I am surrounded by so many safety systems that I would not be allowed to become truly poor. If I were to become seriously ill, I would be sent back to the United States and given the best treatment. As soon as my life or health were really threatened, I would have many people around me willing to protect me.
At this moment, I feel that a certain realism is necessary. I am not poor as my neighbors are. I will never be and will not ever be allowed to be by those who sent me here. I have to accept my own history and live out my vocation, without denying that history. On the other hand, I realize that the way of Christ is a self-emptying way. What that precisely means in my own concrete life will probably remain a lifelong question...
Like the majority of Suyapans, i have family in the U.S. whom i love. For the majority of Suyapans, seeing their family means either them making a financially costly, life threatening, and illegal journey to the U.S., as my host cousin has done, or their family member giving up the economic stability afforded them and their family members here in Honduras in order to come home permanently, as my host father, after 8 years in the U.S., is getting ready to do. For me, seeing my loved ones means that i or they buy an affordable plane ticket and fly to the U.S. or Honduras, in either of which we are welcomed almost without question. Does relocation - should relocation - mean giving up that privilege?
The majority of Suyapans live on less than one U.S. dollar per day. I need not even ask if i will live on one U.S. dollar per day. I'm not going to.
For Suyapans and for me, going to even a free cultural event means paying 2-3 dollars to get there and about five dollars for a taxi home. Thus, a "free" cultural event would cost the majority of my neighbors about a week's budget. Does that mean i shouldn't go to the cultural events that i find so wonderful, where i feel a connection with Hondurans with interests and backgrounds more like mine?
I've never gone, and most likely never will go hungry in Nueva Suyapa. Have i "relocated"?
Some of my privileges i could not give up. I cannot give back my college education. I cannot undo growing up in a loving home. I can't undo having known my father's love.
Also, even if i were to become fully a poor person of Nueva Suyapa, even if that were possible, it could only be through my own personal choice. No poor person of Nueva Suyapa chose to be poor. In other words, my decision to become poor and to what extent will always be made freely, which is important to realize.
I recently heard a podcast with Murphy Davis, cofounder of the Open Door Community in downtown Atlanta. (Listening to podcasts, by the way, is something that most of my neighbors will never be able to do.) Davis shared the story of how she gave up her health insurance to live in community with her homeless brothers and sisters. It was not until she got cancer and went through years of treatment at the public hospital for the uninsured that her friends stopped suspecting that she had some "out" - that she wasn't really committed to living among them. To me, this story illustrates that relocation - that downward mobility - is neither impossible nor unimportant, much less easy. For the time being, i will not give up my "outs." I'll keep my bank account, my U.S. citizenship, my family, my friends, my computer, and my books.
In thinking about these things it's worth pointing out the importance of a community. Instead of "going it alone" i am working with a Honduran NGO. Yes, i will probably leave here after two or three years, but MCM has been here for about twenty years and has no plans to leave. Yes, i'm an outsider to this community, but most of my coworkers live here and have family here, and many of them grew up here in Nueva Suyapa. So whatever barriers i have between me and truly becoming one of the poor, i at least know that the organization i am working with is truly a part of the community i live in.
Why else is the incarnational model complicated? Well, a common problem among both Christians and other people of privilege seeking to do some good among the poor is the oh-so-dangerous savior complex. While the incarnational metaphor has many benefits, i would say, it also has the pitfall of encouraging people to think of their lives as being like those of the savior. "Just as Jesus became a human [to save the world], i [a rich white person] am becoming poor [to save poor brown people]" would basically be the danger that i see. It also intentionally casts those who are, through privilege and injustice, able to relocate (mostly rich white people from The United States, Canada, and Europe) as the Jesus to those who, through lack of privilege and oppression, are forced to stay where they're at (poor people of color in the Global South). The incarnational model is seriously susceptible to conflation with the colonialist thinking that has infected the Christian community in industrialized countries for centuries, even as Christians in the Global South are continuing to raise their voices to point out both that the church needs to be decolonialized and that, additionally, Christians of the Global South just might get Jesus a lot better than Christians in the West do, and consequently, if anyone should be "incarnating" it just might be Christians of the Global South incarnating among people of developed countries, not the other way around. In a lot of ways, it's a valid criticism.
I've also realized that the longer the period of time for which i try to relocate, that harder it is. For six weeks i can pretty easily only eat what's given to me by my hosts, wear only two pairs of pants and five shirts, stay within the community in which i'm working, and feel more-or-less fine with not having a clue how the Phillies are doing (especially if it's around the all-star break). For two years i have to keep Nature Valley almond bars on hand as comfort food; i quickly realize i need a fourth pair of pants, and ten shirts quickly starts to feel like too few; i need to leave Nueva Suyapa at least a couple times a week to go to a coffee shop or (gasp) the mall; and i have to surf my family's tv to look for the Phillies (although maybe not after this season). So what kinds of privileges would i be tempted to justify if i were to commit living a lifetime of relocation?
Anyway, i think i've said enough about relocation and incarnation for now. As Nouwen says: "...I realize that the way of Christ is a self-emptying way. What that precisely means in my own concrete life will probably remain a lifelong question..." In other words, it's complicated.
Thanks Mark. Some good thoughts here as you wrestle with what it means to follow a Savior who many would deem as unrealistic. Is the idealism of incarnation a form of naivety? We'd like to think not, but must be honestly open to consider the folly of incarnation.
ReplyDeleteThe question I believe you came to answer is really how does the kingdom of God come to earth through fallible Christ followers? Can it come to desperate places from a safe distance? Perhaps. But we do know it can come through sacrificial contact with those places and "self-emptying" as Henri puts it.
I respect and admire your choices and your willingness to honestly wrestle with the drawbacks and challenges.
Mark. These are really good questions and I think a very good look at the pitfalls and limits of incarnation. I think your prophetic voice is necessary. I would ask a couple questions.
ReplyDeleteHow would you move towards a redeemed model of the incarnation as it relates to ministry among the poor, or ministry anywhere? Any thoughts on what the right way to look at these issues would be for someone who feels called like you to serve cross culturally? Is it a simple "Yes we should live incarnationally, but here are the limits." Or is there another way we should define what it means in light of its limitations?
I don't know that I have any answers, but your post was really thought provoking! Thanks!
Thank you Scott and Matt for your responses.
ReplyDeleteI think i'll start at the end by saying that what i wrote is not intended in any way to be a rejection of the model of incarnation.
I think the word Scott used, "idealism," is perfect. I think incarnation is "idealism" in the best way. Am i doing everything perfectly? No. But i am striving to approach an ideal, which, coincidentally, i believe is true of discipleship in general and not just ministry among the poor. And, as Murphy's story illustrates, admitting that i can't do it perfectly is not an excuse to not do it seriously. But it takes a lot of grace and a constant growing. I've been at it three months.
I guess i would suggest a subtle shift in language. Instead of "Jesus became a human to reach humans so i am becoming a poor person to reach poor people," (not that i necessarily hear that coming from many sources, but it's a temptation) i think a better approach would be "Jesus became a human being to best come alongside human beings, so i am trying as best i can, however imperfectly, to come closer to the poor (as Jesus came close to humans, and especially the poor) in service to God's kingdom." Like i said, this is meant mostly to be not a critique of the model as a whole or its practitioners in general, but rather an examination of my own thinking. I know that until recently i was thinking of incarnation as identifying with the poor by becoming one of the poor (and thinking it in a prideful way). I'm beginning to think that that's more a description of the ideal, while the reality for "fallible Christ followers" is much more complicated, even messy.
I don't intend to criticize those ministering according to an incarnational understanding of ministry. That's what i'm trying to do as well. Is the incarnational model problematic in some ways? Probably. Is it the best model for cross-cultural ministry among the poor? I think so, especially for ministry that tries to reflect the Gospel.
Matt, as far as limits i think two things: a fuller consideration of how my identity is different from those among whom i'm living, and humility. I hope God can use me here and i'm here with that purpose in mind, but i cannot allow that to cause me to think that my identity makes me more suited to give, while my neighbors' identity makes them more suited to receive. In other words, to be patronizing towards my neighbors because of my identity. I'm not sure how to do that well. I think the incarnational model, when not understood fully, along with its limitations, and when not adopted with humility, can reinforce those patronizing thoughts and actions. In other words, thinking of myself as Jesus in the analogy might not lead me to self-examination and repentance. I have to remember that i'm a disciple of Jesus, striving to, by God's grace, be more like him.
Thanks again for your responses. Sorry for my long-winded reply, but you both gave me good things to think about, and i feel like i'm sort of circling above an answer.
I heard this today in a podcast interview with Eda Uca-Dorn, director of Hosanna! People's Seminary. I think she articulates wonderfully some of what i'm trying to express. As always, forgive the length. This starts at 10:00 of the podcast:
ReplyDeleteAnd, uh, one place that i really find that we have some growing to do is just in our language, the way that we talk about our movements. So for example the first of the 12 marks of new monasticism is relocation to the abandoned places of empire. And i bring this up as an example not because it's a particularly bad example, it's just because the 12 marks of new monasticism have been very well-used and people know them, so let's just start where we are. So if one of the defining characteristics of the members of a movement is that they've relocated to some place that's politically and economically marginal that means that they're coming from some place that's politically and economically powerful. If you're already inside of that community, you can't relocate to it. And in our deeply stratified society much of the time it's the case that if you are coming from a politically and economically powerful place that part of that is coming from unearned privilege based on race, gender, sexuality, physical ability. So when we ask, for example, why is it that our movement is dominated in some ways by white heterosexual men we could say, “Well look, the first of the 12 marks of this movement is exclusive to the experience of those who don't already have political and economic power. And who has the most political and economic power but white heterosexual men?” So to know from the beginning that we've defined the participants of the movement in a very narrow sense. You know this, in and of itself, isn't really bad. I mean we would figure that because the powers and principalities of Western imperialism have shattered the human family, that we're going to approach the work of coming together from different directions....
...I have to say first of all, you know, that i bring up one particular group: my brothers, my white heterosexual brothers... I bring up that group but i have to say first of all that there's sort of this false dichotomy of this homogeneous group of privileged people who should become allies and this amorphic group of the poor who need help, and i don't think that's a realistic, that's not an accurate, let me say, worldview. I think all of us, almost, hold pieces of power and privilege that have been unearned and have aspects of ourselves that are broken or vulnerable and that we need other people's support. And i don't mean this on a personal level; i mean this on a political level. Alright, because even i, in one sense, could say, “Oh, i am a woman of Middle Eastern and Arab descent, uh, my people are Muslims.” And, in another sense, i guess i could say, “I'm a North American Christian with a college education.” So we both have pieces of power and privilege and also vulnerability inside of ourselves. Um, and i understand why people get defensive, because, frankly, the work that they're doing is hard, and they've poured their hearts into it. They've moved to different places they never imagined living, really inconvenienced themselves and pissed off their parents and put off their law school applications and raised money and written manifestos and gotten, you know, book contracts and spoken at churches and gotten married or partners in this context and built up this whole life and then reconciled with their parents. You know, this has been this whole process. And then for someone to casually walk up one day and be like, “I think you've missed the mark.” It's sort of terrifying and really frustrating, i think especially because our communities are going to take it seriously if they let this anti-oppression work break their hearts. They're not going to give it lip service, they're going to change their communities, and i think people have a sense of how much work this is going to take, and that's scary, and i really appreciate that...
ReplyDeleteUm, i feel deeply Lilla Watson's invitation to us: “If you've come to help me, go home. If you've come because your liberation is bound up in mine, let's work together.” I've come to deeply believe that this is the invitation that we're all being presented with right now. So, as a woman of color, i, um, i'm not coming to my brothers to tell them to give more or to do more. And, as a person of privilege, i'm not coming to this work because i'm some great hero that's going to fix the problem. I think we're all coming to this with our strengths and with our brokenness as people whose liberation is bound up with one another's.
Here's a link to the podcast: http://www.jesusradicals.com/iconocast-episode-26-eda-uca-dorn/