They raised enough…

hugo_buzzed.jpg

It’s Saturday night, I am home from 30-Hour Famine, and I am completely bald. The photo above (of me with one of the kids from church) was snapped on a camera phone, but it shows the colored mohawk I was given last night by my youth group. I challenged them to raise $5000 for World Vision; they raised $7900 and change.

I decided the mohawk could not stay. So, after half an hour with the razor in the shower, I am balder than on the day I was born. Next year, I’m going to challenge them to raise at least $10,000!

Odds and ends

The 30-Hour famine fast began a few minutes ago. After some quality time this A.M. with my gal and Matilde the chinchilla, I went on a quick 14-mile run from my place, traveling down through the Arroyo Seco and up into the Monterey Hills neighborhood of L.A before making my way back. I have made quick trips to Noah’s Bagels and Jamba Juice to refuel, but from noon today until 6:00PM tomorrow, nothing more. I’ll be off to church in a few hours, to help check in the kids (we think we might have over 35 show up tonight), count the money, and prepare for a sleepless night with hungry and rambunctious teens. Whether or not they will have raised enough to shave my head remains to be seen; I’ll report.

I got some nice props last night from Rudy Carrasco; he linked to my post below on my feminist cred, and he wrote:

Hugo is one of the more fascinating characters you will come across. As the self-described only Evangelical male in America to teach Gay and Lesbian studies, he is absolutely and literally in a class of his own.

Very cool. Thanks, Rudy!

As I gather with the kids this weekend, I will be praying for Haiti. Almost no one seems to want to “blog Haiti” this week! Here we all are, Christians devoted to social justice and non-violence, and we are all far more riled up about a movie than we are about this horrific and tragic situation unfolding right here in our hemisphere. Is it because the problem seems too intractable? Is it because there is no opportunity to issue thundering and self-righteous orations? Writing about Haiti just isn’t as sexy as writing about marriage or the Passion. I am as guilty as everybody else. I have no answers. But I do have prayers.

Also, I am praying for the grocery workers of the UFCW as they vote this weekend on whether to accept the latest offer from the supermarket chains. I am definitely looking forward to being able to shop once again at my neighborhood Vons. I am tired of the high prices I’ve been paying at Gelson’s, the unionized (but pricey) grocery store that is just down the street. By the way, I am trying to decide if I want to buy “Union Jeans“, sold on the UFCW website. I like the idea of wearing only union-made American stuff. On the other hand, I love good clothes. I spend far too much on dressing myself (lately, I have been buying a lot of stuff from Lucky Brand), and most of what I buy is not union-made. I think I have some room for growth there.

Time to focus on the famine!

I’m going to lose my feminist credentials again

My women’s studies class is coming along very well this semester. (We spent the morning working through the concept of “coverture”, with a brief break to discuss Iroquois attitudes towards menstruation).

I did not share with my students my pleasure that the House today passed the Unborn Victims of Violence Act. The legislation defines “unborn child” as “a member of the species homo sapiens, at any stage of development, who is carried in the womb.”

It’s been a long journey for me towards the pro-life position. I grew up in a household in which abortion rights were celebrated. Until just a few years ago, I was a regular contributor to Planned Parenthood. As recently as the 1996 election, I volunteered at a NARAL campaign event. Many folks close to me have gone through abortions, and I have witnessed the tremendous pain that an unwanted pregnancy can bring to a young woman’s life. I have great compassion for those who do choose to terminate their pregnancies. But my understanding of the nature of human life and of the body does not allow me to continue to support legal abortion. It’s been a painful journey, not least because my conversion has caused dismay and anger among old friends who remain committed to abortion rights. I remain conflicted as to what the best legal and cultural strategy is against abortion, as I worry about both babies and mothers dying as a result of illegal abortion. I’m still on this journey.

But I do notice this: the percentage of my students in women’s studies who see abortion rights as critical to their own sense of feminism has been dropping in the past decade. Students were, as I recall, much more active on the issue seven or eight years ago than they are now. Obviously, I have changed my curriculum, and that may play a part. But I also think there is a larger cultural shift going on, a shift away from an earlier era’s obsession with individual autonomy. When I first started teaching women’s history, I emphasized the abortion struggle as the great struggle of our time. I haven’t believed that for years. I have long since shifted from a belief that rights are paramount. Happiness is what my students want, not radical autonomy. Happiness without relationship is not happiness for my students; they hunger to be valued, to be recognized, to be seen. They are tired of a culture that teaches them they ought to be at war with their own bodies and their own femininity. They are overwhelmed both by our culture’s obsession with beauty and thinness and by our culture’s increasing unwillingness to value motherhood. They are starting to see that abortion is a war against the flesh and against nature in a way that anorexia and plastic surgery are acts of war against their own bodies. And though I may get my credentials as a feminist male pulled permanently, I am doing everything I can to teach them to value themselves not merely as rational, independent agents, but as unique and precious women. Biology may not be destiny, but the war to master and distort and control female flesh must stop. And I have come — with reverance and reluctance — to believe that abortion is a critical part of the war against women.

Okay, rant over. I’ve spent my lunch hour on this, and now need to go and lecture on Louis XIV.

I said yes

This morning, one of my best students from last semester asked me to be the faculty adviser to the college chapter of the NAACP. He’s the student president, and he picked me. It’s only one meeting a month, and so I said yes. The next time he and I meet, I am going to ask him what I did not ask this morning: “why me?” But heck, it’ll be fun. I like to wear a lot of hats.

The Passion and the Cross; more Mennonite responses

Two more nuanced editorial reviews of the Passion appeared in today’s edition of the Mennonite Weekly Review online.

Paul Schrag writes:

Though extreme violence is the movie’s centerpiece, it is violence invested with meaning and taken seriously, not crassly winked at or offered as shallow entertainment. As a story of Jesus’ life, the film is incomplete. But as an imaginative vision of Jesus’ last hours, it makes an unforgettable and mostly positive impact.

But I really liked what Robert Rhodes had to say:

One of the luxuries of life in North America is that Christianity is not of necessity a suffering faith. Here, because we are free to gather and worship, we can afford to focus on “victory” and “new life” and the many blessings of conversion and redemption.

Perhaps this is why so many seem offended by the extreme degree of violence to be found in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ. Here, we are not used to focusing on the bloody rigors of the cross, or on the quivering tendons and gushing blood of the man nailed to it. Instead, our faith lexicon, especially among more mainstream Protestants, is filled with images of renewal and grace and, ultimately, of arguably undeserved comfort. Unfortunately, placing so much emphasis on the joys of redemption robs the cross, and our faith, of some of its radical strength.

Such violence is what Christ endured for us all, as Gibson’s movie makes painstakingly clear. It is good that we remember this, too. We also should consider the contribution each of our sins made to that violence, and to the violence that continues all around us even today.

The Anabaptist tradition embraces constructive suffering, and it embraces the cross not merely as Jesus’ unique sacrifice (which in one sense it is) but also as Christian duty. The preeminent modern Mennonite theologian, the wonderful John Howard Yoder, writes:

The innocent, silently uncomplaining suffering of Christ is not only an act of Christ on our behalf from which we benefit; it is also an example of Christ for our instruction, which we are to follow. This portrait of Christ is to be painted again on the ordinary canvas of our lives. Did not Jesus himself say that those who would follow him must deny themselves and take up their cross?

(Bold emphasis is Hugo’s). Where Anabaptists break with other evangelicals and with our Catholic brothers and sisters is over the sense that Jesus’s response to the cross ought to be our own response to the threat of violence. As He went to Calvary, so too should we, rather than take up arms (either as individuals or in armies). Jesus’ action is redemptive but also normative for our lives.

One more line from Yoder:

No one created in God’s image and for whom Christ died can be for me an enemy, whose life I am willing to threaten or to take, unless I am more devoted to something else – to a political theory, to a nation, to the defense of certain privileges, or to my own personal welfare – than I am to God’s cause: his loving invasion of this world in his prophets, his Son, and his church.

When I do go see the Passion, it will be with those thoughts in mind.

Lenten blogging

Many folks are blogging the start of Lent today; not a big deal in my adopted Mennonite church, but significant indeed to me from my years in Anglican and Catholic community. One thing in particular caught my eye this morning; here’s One House, with a great piece on self-denial and struggling for God, capped off with this quotation from Joan Chittister:

We too often fail to realize, however, that people who say that they want to find God in life have to work everyday, too, to bring that Presence into focus or the Presence will elude them no matter how present it is in theory.

That’s good.

Also, Jen Lemen has a nice “lent for rookies” entry today, replete with lotsa good links.

30-Hour “Famine”

This weekend, I will be participating (for the fourth consecutive February) in World Vision’s 30-Hour Famine fundraising program. For those unfamiliar with 30HF, it is an annual event during which church youth groups go without food from 12 noon Friday until 6:00PM Saturday. Saturdays are usually spent doing community service, and participants raise funds from sponsors. A few hundred thousand American youth — and their hardy adult leaders — participate each year, and millions of dollars are raised for relief projects like this one.

I love doing overnight retreats with the teens, but I am especially fond of 30-Hour Famine. There’s nothing like the temporary deprivation of food and sugary drinks to create insta-community! The service project involves a trip to Skid Row in downtown Los Angeles, where my mostly privileged teens travel from street to street, tent to tent, meeting with and offering food to the homeless. Most of my kids (for that is what I call them) have never touched a homeless man or woman before; during the service project, they often shake hands and even embrace folks whom they would normally avoid. It is initially a frightening, and even repellant experience for some of the youth — but without exception, they become excited and deeply moved as the day wears on.

I do have some problems with the whole weekend. For one thing, I have always hated the name “30-Hour Famine“. I can’t help but feel (as I have told a couple of people who work for World Vision), that calling a voluntary 30 hour period a famine somehow trivializes the horror of that word. The kids may learn compassion in a new and visceral way, but they are not enduring famine in any way remotely similar to those who are really suffering from malnutrition. I wish we called it “30-Hour Fast”. But that sounds less ringingly dramatic, and I guess it ain’t the biggest issue in the world. Doug Pagitt shares a similar thought today.

I also know full well that sending a group of largely well-off, largely white teenagers into the heart of the poorest neighborhood in L.A. can be read as a token gesture. Most of these teens will not regularly return to feed the homeless and to be involved in the work of charities and shelters who serve the poorest of the poor. (Thankfully, a few teens will get more permanently involved). The food that we will distribute this Saturday will make no long-term difference. In reality, the service project is more designed for the spiritual enlightenment of our kids than it is for the homeless folks whom we meet and feed. I have no doubt as to which group will remember it longer!

But in a very real sense, the work of 30-Hour Famine, despite its unfortunate appellation and patronizing tendencies, is still gospel work. And I do love doing it so! And, as a closing note, I have told the group that if they raise $5000, they get to do whatever they like to my hair — shave it, give me a mohawk, color it, and so forth. I’m a little bit nervous, especially as my gal and I have tickets to the opera on Sunday night!

The Passion — updated

Before heading off for an early-morning breakfast with my dear friend Steve, I scanned the front-page review of Mel Gibson’s Passion in today’s Los Angeles Times. Entitled A Narrow Vision and Staggering Violence, the Kenny Turan review is sensitive but disturbing. It’s the first major secular review I’ve read, and this section worried me:

The problem with “The Passion’s” violence is not merely how difficult it is to take, it’s that its sadistic intensity obliterates everything else about the film. Worse than that, it fosters a one-dimensional view of Jesus, reducing his entire life and world-transforming teachings to his sufferings, to the notion that he was exclusively someone who was willing to absorb unspeakable punishment for our sins.

Despite brief flashbacks that nod to Jesus’ other words and thoughts, no hypothetical viewer coming to this film absent any knowledge of Christianity would believe that this is the story that gave birth to one of the great transformative religions as well as countless works of timeless beauty.

And without belief, this film does not add up. Without training in or exposure to Christianity, you are likely to feel as flummoxed by what you’re seeing as Western missionaries did when they observed pagan rituals to which they lacked any emotional connection.

Perhaps Turan — whose reviews I have read for years and usually agreed with — is another non-believer hostile to Gibson’s vision. But if what he says is true (and I have not yet seen the film), then the usefulness of the picture as an evangelistic tool to reach out to non-Christians is called into serious question.

On the other hand, here’s a link to a glowing review in the journal First Things. The reviewers anticipate what the response of Christian viewers will be:

We think that it will induce humility rather than triumphalism. The film is so enthralling that perhaps some viewers will have to remind themselves that it is just a movie and not a substitute for the New Testament, much less for sacramental liturgies or the stations of the cross familiar to so many Christians during Lent. If, having seen and endured the film, Christians are able in a fresh way to wonder at the vault of the Sistine Chapel, if they can humbly return to their churches to participate in the spoken and sacramentally enacted Word, then Gibson’s Passion will have proven to be something even better than what it certainly is—the best movie ever made about Jesus Christ.

I’m going with my small group on March 5. I’ll report on the film, and our ensuing discussion, after that date.

UPDATE: Here is the review from Mennonite Weekly Review. It’s a strikingly negative analysis from the flagship newsweekly of North American Anabaptism. Here are a couple of excerpts:

The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson’s hell-fire and brimstone sermon on celluloid, falls far short of making a case for why I want to be a follower of Jesus.

The film is a violent blood-fest extraordinaire… Gibson venerates the broken body of Christ but says little about the point of the brokenness: the resurrection. His theological viewpoint demands that lots of blood flow from Christ’s wounds because there needs to be enough blood to cover all of humanity’s many and grievous sins. Told in this way, the salvation story is incomplete.

What turns me on to Christ is the new life salvation demands. New life is embodied not in Christ’s beaten and broken body but in his triumph over death. Either Gibson doesn’t understand that part of the salvation story, or he forgot to include more than a single nod to it.

Yikes.

“Robbing kids of their crises means robbing them of personal growth.”

I stumbled across this five-year old article from Youth Specialties, entitled “The Sexual Youth Pastor”. It’s a terrific and blessedly candid roundtable discussion among four youth ministry workers, two men and two women. Though I am a volunteer, and not a paid youth pastor, I have been around youth ministry enough to recognize just how complicated it can be to serve as a role model for teenagers who are struggling to find their identities. What I love about this roundtable discussion is how fundamentally flawed all four of the youth pastors are — some are divorced, some admit to bouts of sexual attraction to their teenagers, others admit to being in deeply troubled marriages. And yet all are committed to youth work and to ministering to teenagers safely and lovingly. The really interesting aspect of the debate is summed up in the quotation that captions this entry.

One male youth pastor said:

We conduct discussions about sexuality because we know kids are acting out sexually, but we’ve got to allow for process and failure in them. We’ve got to allow for journey…

They’re going to have sex and they’re going to get pregnant and they’re going to have an abortion and they’re going to experiment and they’re going to get divorced. Now, where do I fit in that whole process? I teach intimacy, reality, humanness, and Christ.

To which one of his female colleagues replied:

That’s bull. The cost is way too high. There are things in my life I would love to erase. Have they made me a more effective youth minister? I’ll never know, because I don’t get to do my life over without those experiences… We should be teaching people that they are worthy of good choices.

Gosh, I see the good sense in both responses. But I do know this: my marriages and divorces and other countless “experiences” have given me, I hope, an extra measure of compassion and wisdom. But were these all experiences the sole source of that compassion and wisdom? I suspect not. (I remember well the logical fallacy post hoc ergo propter hoc .) One of my best male friends — a very wise and gentle man indeed — gave his virginity to his wife of 20 years on his wedding night. He has never betrayed his vows. He also works with youth, and I have seen that for all of his lack of “experience”, he is no less well equipped to love them in all their exasperating and beautiful wildness than I am. In the end, based on both my faith and my experience, I do believe that we have got to “allow for journey”, and love them before, during, and after that journey.