September 02, 2014
Source: Wikimedia Commons. Credit: Loavesofbread
“Go…. So that you will be a blessing” (Genesis 12:1-3).
“Go.” Leave what is known… for some place that is not yet known.
The call of Abraham is an ancient story. Some 4000 years ancient. What it preserves for us is a glimpse of one man’s encounter with God; an encounter that dramatically changed human history.
The call of Abraham is one of those classic texts that brings everything into sharp focus.
God calls persons. It’s that simple. God called Abraham, and God called many others whose stories are told in Scripture and throughout church history.
God calls each of us—in some fashion. Perhaps in ways we’ve only partially named and are still discovering.
A call is a mysterious thing, laden with wonderment, doubt, many testings over time.
There are calls that set a trajectory—and deeply form a way of life. There are calls that come in the moment—to which we can respond because of a baptismal calling that has shaped us over time.
Three recent stories come quickly to mind:
Journalist James Foley's brutal execution by the Islamic State stunned the world. At a mass in his home Catholic parish, Rev. Paul Gausse offered a prayer for the perpetrators of James’ killing. “We are not just praying for us and the Foley family, but praying for those who have perpetrated this kind of evil,” he said. “James felt compelled to be a witness to people in conflict. This was his mission.” And James’ mother Diane Foley added. “[James] died for that compassion and that love, and I pray that he can be remembered that way and that he [will] not have died in vain.” And to Rev. Gausse she added: “Father, pray for me that I don’t become bitter. I don’t want to hate.”
Protests erupted in Ferguson, Missouri, after the fatal shooting of 18-year-old Michael Brown by a police officer. Rev. Willis Johnson, a local Ferguson pastor, felt called into the fray. A photo in the Washington Post showed the pastor in a powerful embrace with protester 18 year-old Joshua Wilson. In an NPR interview later about what was happening in that photo, Pastor Johnson said that as police were ordering protesters to move aside, he was trying to keep Wilson out of harm's way. "If anything” he said, “[my embrace of Wilson] was to affirm him — and to affirm both of us — because in that moment, we were being disaffirmed. We were being told ... that what we were doing was wrong, and it was not wrong."
The New York Times carried the story last week of Josephine Finda Sellu, a deputy nurse matron in Sierra Leone. After 15 of her nurses died from Ebola, she thought about quitting herself. “It has been a nightmare,” she said. “Since the whole thing started, I have cried a lot…. I am a senior nurse. All the junior nurses look up to me. If I left,” she said, “the whole thing would collapse…. There are times when I say, Oh my God, I should have chosen secretarial.” But her job as a healer, she said “is the calling of God.”
However a call of God comes, those testified to by God’s people, by followers of Jesus throughout the generations, often include some resemblance to Abram’s call:
There is an initiative by God; an invitation—or even a command.
The call is personal. Abram. Moses. Esther. James. Willis. Josephine. But in a profound and ultimate way, it isn’t about any one of us.
This is where a call keeps shifting in and out of focus. It’s about me—each of us. But it isn’t about any one of us. It’s about aligning our lives with the magnificent reconciling mission of God in the world.
February 04, 2014
Rachel Miller Jacobs, Assistant Professor of Congregational Formation
In an earlier blog post, I called this A (potentially transformative) Teachable Moment in the life of our church. A number of AMBS faculty offered ideas about conversations we should be having throughout the church—and are having at places like AMBS. This is a guest post by Rachel Miller Jacobs, assistant professor of congregational formation, in response to her own great questions: “What would a positive theology of friendship between women and men entail? How do we make space for friendships between persons who deeply respect each other and communities where we so genuinely love each other as beloved children of God that we wouldn't think of crossing boundaries?”
In the process of working on this blog post about friendship between men and women, I’ve actually written (and deleted) it about six or seven times. I’m aware I’m venturing into tricky territory: the received truth is that married Christians don’t have cross-gender friendships. I don’t mean that they aren’t friendly with the people whose paths they cross at work or church, or that they don’t do things in mixed-gender groups. But eyebrows rise when we talk about consciously cultivating a friendship with a person of the opposite sex—about being actual friends rather than simply people whom circumstance has thrown together. I know this firsthand because in the couple of cross-gender friendships I’ve had as an adult, I’ve had to wrestle with my own (and others’) discomfort, confusion, jealousy, guilt, and shame.
You’d think from that list of “discomforts” that I was having an affair. I wasn’t. As a young adult, I’d had close guy friends when I was in college, about thirty years ago, and not all of those cross-gender friendships turned into dating relationships. Yet both then and since, I’ve had little experience with, and few examples of, a never-going-to-be-romantic friendship with a man.
The common wisdom is that’s exactly as it should be, because there’s no such thing as a never-romantic friendship between a man and a woman. Right?
Dan Brennan (Sacred Unions, Sacred Passions: Engaging the Mystery of Friendship Between Men and Women) writes that both church and culture have two main stories about intimacy between men and women. The first is the “romantic story”: man meets woman, they date, they commit, or they break up and start all over again with another partner. The second is what Brennan calls the “danger story”: man and woman become friends, but don’t have the romantic trajectory open to them because one or both are married, so slide into emotional or physical adultery, triangles, or some other dysfunction.
If that’s true—that there are only two possible stories about intimacy between men and women—why would we become friends with someone of the opposite sex, and actually cultivate that friendship?
One reason is that we’ve exhausted what the “deterrence” approach has to offer us. The “no intimate relationships between men and women who aren’t married to each other” may have prevented some (though not all) sexual misconduct, affairs, or divorces. But it hasn’t helped us do the individual and communal work of genuinely seeing and respecting each other as beloved children of God. It hasn’t helped us take the next steps in dismantling patriarchy. It hasn’t broken down the dividing wall of hostility between men and women. The “deterrence” approach said an important “no” but hasn’t gone on to say an equally important “yes.”
We get hints about what this “yes” might look like from the life of Jesus. The Gospels depict him as a man who isn’t afraid of relationships with women (the woman at the well, the woman at Simon’s house, Mary and Martha, Mary Magdalene, other women disciples). In a social and cultural context that defined women as property, Jesus treated them as human beings worthy of intimacy, respect, and care.
If we pursue cross-gender friendships with colleagues or others in the example of Jesus, we will do many of the same things as we do to cultivate any healthy friendship. But in the overly sexualized context in which we live, a few additional specifics are also worth noting. Here’s my advice, culled from reading, experience, and listening to people as a spiritual director and pastor:
Cross-gender friendships have much to offer us in broadening and nuancing our understanding of the opposite sex. In addition, since men’s and women’s spiritual journeys differ in some significant ways, a cross-gender friendship can spur us to further growth in ways that same gendered friends who are traveling the same path cannot.
Corporately, public conversation about and practice in cross-gender friendship can help us tell a more hopeful story than the ones that have previously been available to us. While there are never any guarantees in human relationships, much is lost when we don't take the risk to create communities where transparency, self-awareness, and commitment to the well-being of all will safeguard the wholeness of both men and women, whether single or married.
This blog is hosted by Sara Wenger Shenk. While Sara is president of Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary, she writes as a practical theologian trying to make sense of everyday life—in light of God's reconciling mission in the world.
The views Sara shares here are not the voice of AMBS. As a woman, mother, author, educator, lover of God, Sara is a restless scout—searching out ways that lead toward God’s shalom. She doesn’t assert answers so much as pose questions, test assumptions, resist labels, play with possibilities, experiment with integration, practice wholeness. She hopes this blog will provide a spacious forum for thoughtful discernment around sometimes contentious issues.