"As soon as you address the other, as soon as you are open to the future, of waiting for someone to come: that is the opening of experience. Someone is to come, is now to come. Justice and peace will have to do with this coming of the other , with the promise."
--Jacques Derrida, Deconstruction in a Nutshell, 24 (1997)
Advent, expectation, waiting...and Derrida. Of course, a natural fit. This is found in an explanation of Derrida's concept of the messianic which comes out of his understanding of other and otherness. What are we waiting for at Advent if not something other than our own selves. As I wrote in Sojourners in December 2005, Advent is a season of possibility, possibility that something might change, that it might not be the same as it has always been. This is the root of otherness, possibility outside of ourselves.
If we want to talk about salvation, liberation, mission, coming kingdom or anything else in Christian vernacular associated with the "coming of Jesus" past or future, we definitely have to talk about otherness. None of this is to be found inside of ourselves, individually or collectively or institutionally. What a lesson for the church to undertake every 12 months, for congregations as representations of one of the largest institutions in the world to recognize that are value is found outside of our own institutional existence.
Does our individual, collective, or institutional faith (or waiting or expectation) find its object within the self or the other? Do we still wait for ourselves to do it right the next time even though we know we won't. Otherness is the root (for Derrida) of justice and peace. We must look to the other as other, not as extension of self. Wait this Advent for other to enter in, for God to come in a way that is not familiar and internal but that is other, for in the other--not the self-- is real hope. That is what we wait for in Advent.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Seeing a Great Light (nearsightedly)
This morning in our staff devotions at First Pres, Berkeley we listened to part of Part I of Handel's Messiah--the part everybody knows. The Bass Air immediately preceding "For unto us a Child is born" is from Isaiah 9:2, "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; and theythat dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined."
While most around me sat with their eyes closed in postures of prayer and reflection, I had my eyes open in my usual posture of prayer and reflection. The bass soloist repeats numerous times, "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light." While I was hearing this and looking around the room at this group of people with whom I work in ministry I noticed that a large portion of them were wearing glasses (and probably a bunch with contacts but I wasn't staring that closely at anybody)--corrective lenses so that they could see clearly. It is more than common knowledge that if you have trouble seeing (in the literal, physical sense) you wear corrective lenses and you accept the assistance of the optometrist and those tools to help you see clearly at all times.
The connection is easy to see...all of us are walking in darkness (to some extent or another) and Isaiah says that we have seen a great light. Those of us in the church who are celebrating Advent in this season are hopefully focusing on the fact that we have seen this great light in the incarnation of Jesus, God drawing near to us in human form. We have seen the light, but the fact is that the light came into the world for all to see and most around us have seen no such light, and are very possibly (maybe this year more than ever) walking in deep darkness.
Often our ideas of evangelism or sharing our faith might be akin to going to someone who is not a Christian and saying, "I have the light. Why don't you have the light? What's wrong with you that you haven't seen the light...." I could go on. But here is the beauty of Advent, a great season in which to let the joy, hope, peace, and love of Jesus get way beyond our sanctuary confines: God came near to us, became human, and lived a very specific, face-to-face life on this earth for us. A lot of what is offered to those around us by churchy folks is a far away vision of God, an abstract theological metaphysical concept that we assume the rest of the world is just waiting to embrace--we can be farsighted and only offer the world this far off god concept and nothing up close.
But all of us, Christian or not live nearsighted lives. We wake up, wipe the sleep from our eyes, grope for coffee and start our days of nearsightedness, taking care of us and ours. No criticism, that's the way we are. In the Christmas story, Jesus born in an all-too-human way, via a bloody birth canal, Jesus entered our near-sighted reality. Jesus came close enough that we could see him close up. What we have to offer the world is Jesus and the God who drew near in a close up way and we need to be nearsighted to those close to us to touch their lives with some love, hope, joy, peace in a nearsighted way, with lives of generosity, justice, and care.
God didn't stay far away in theological abstract. God answered the centuries of calls by the Israelites to come by coming way closer than we expected, in infant baby form. Let us come closer to those around us than they expect. Maybe, just maybe, we could surprise a neighbor, coworker, family member, or friend by getting closer than they expected us to with hope, peace, joy, love. That is advent. God drawing near to us, us drawing near to others, the space between violated and our farsighted sensibilities surprised by closeness.
Be close this year to the nearsighted Jesus and your nearsighted neighbors. Be nearsighted enough to not overlook them and their real lives. God didn't.
While most around me sat with their eyes closed in postures of prayer and reflection, I had my eyes open in my usual posture of prayer and reflection. The bass soloist repeats numerous times, "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light." While I was hearing this and looking around the room at this group of people with whom I work in ministry I noticed that a large portion of them were wearing glasses (and probably a bunch with contacts but I wasn't staring that closely at anybody)--corrective lenses so that they could see clearly. It is more than common knowledge that if you have trouble seeing (in the literal, physical sense) you wear corrective lenses and you accept the assistance of the optometrist and those tools to help you see clearly at all times.
The connection is easy to see...all of us are walking in darkness (to some extent or another) and Isaiah says that we have seen a great light. Those of us in the church who are celebrating Advent in this season are hopefully focusing on the fact that we have seen this great light in the incarnation of Jesus, God drawing near to us in human form. We have seen the light, but the fact is that the light came into the world for all to see and most around us have seen no such light, and are very possibly (maybe this year more than ever) walking in deep darkness.
Often our ideas of evangelism or sharing our faith might be akin to going to someone who is not a Christian and saying, "I have the light. Why don't you have the light? What's wrong with you that you haven't seen the light...." I could go on. But here is the beauty of Advent, a great season in which to let the joy, hope, peace, and love of Jesus get way beyond our sanctuary confines: God came near to us, became human, and lived a very specific, face-to-face life on this earth for us. A lot of what is offered to those around us by churchy folks is a far away vision of God, an abstract theological metaphysical concept that we assume the rest of the world is just waiting to embrace--we can be farsighted and only offer the world this far off god concept and nothing up close.
But all of us, Christian or not live nearsighted lives. We wake up, wipe the sleep from our eyes, grope for coffee and start our days of nearsightedness, taking care of us and ours. No criticism, that's the way we are. In the Christmas story, Jesus born in an all-too-human way, via a bloody birth canal, Jesus entered our near-sighted reality. Jesus came close enough that we could see him close up. What we have to offer the world is Jesus and the God who drew near in a close up way and we need to be nearsighted to those close to us to touch their lives with some love, hope, joy, peace in a nearsighted way, with lives of generosity, justice, and care.
God didn't stay far away in theological abstract. God answered the centuries of calls by the Israelites to come by coming way closer than we expected, in infant baby form. Let us come closer to those around us than they expect. Maybe, just maybe, we could surprise a neighbor, coworker, family member, or friend by getting closer than they expected us to with hope, peace, joy, love. That is advent. God drawing near to us, us drawing near to others, the space between violated and our farsighted sensibilities surprised by closeness.
Be close this year to the nearsighted Jesus and your nearsighted neighbors. Be nearsighted enough to not overlook them and their real lives. God didn't.
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