“Where thieves do not enter…”

Today saw me running a session on computer security and privacy issues for trainees on the World Horizons Equipping for Service course. (In other words, yes, I probably am a bit geeky…) Identity theft and maintaining individual privacy online has become a big issue.

Now my main concern in doing this is to help people protect their identity and personal information. Privacy is a right which is not always taken seriously by governments – and I am not just talking of the Irans and North Koreas of this world. Unless we actually want to make all our private communications and data available to whoever happens to want to look then we do need to take some simple steps to protect ourselves. Not that any of these are 100% uncrackable – but like any security, in the end it is about putting enough safeguards in place to make it difficult for an attacker to find a way in. It’s just like putting a better lock on your front door; hey yes, with a big enough sledgehammer they will still get in. But if they don’t have enough time or resources, or they don’t consider your stuff is worth the effort, they will go and look somewhere else.

There’s more to this than not clicking on “suspicious” links and “being careful”. Few people really understand the inner workings of computer code and the security issues that there are. Computing has become like modern cars – you used to be able to take a look at an engine and find bits to unscrew, replace or mend yourself, but nowadays, it is all in sealed plastic units, with no “user serviceable parts” to be seen. Likewise computing – in the early days, you could roughly see how a program worked, understand the basics of code behind what the operating system was doing. Not today. Though estimates vary (and are at best only estimates), there are around 80 million lines of code in Windows 7. So security issues are actually complex beasts and users do in fact need to know a little more than they might be comfortable with to make sure they are safe. The ruthless have always preyed on the naïve or ignorant and probably always will.

You see, there are always the “bad guys” out there who want to get their hands on your stuff. We live in a real world where thieves do break in and steal, only today they can do it from the comfort of their own homes on the opposite side of the planet. Password hacking is no longer the remit of “script kiddies”; cyber crime has become big business. Dedicated mafia groups pour huge resources into the creation of ever expanding bot-nets and ever more effective tools for phishing scams, all with the aim of gleaning personal information, stealing intellectual property, gaining access to financial assets and scamming their way to millionairedom.

But we knew that already. There really is nothing new under the sun. That our seemingly boundless human creativity – no doubt part of the image of God in humanity – can be turned to evil as easily as it can to good should come as no surprise. Innovation works on both sides, from those who follow the late Steve Jobs’ axiom in wanting to “change the world” (for the better) through technology to those who are happy to invest their lives discovering how to relieve others of the burden of their wealth.

So do take all reasonable precautions. Educate yourself. Lock down your cyberlife in such a way that makes it difficult at least for others to steal from you. But at the same time be sure to heed Jesus’ advice – don’t make this your treasure. Don’t lock your heart in encrypted secure storage with a password that keeps even the Holy Spirit out. We are bigger than that. We are called to love a broken world, including the scammers, to make the healing of the nations in the name of a self-giving God our treasure. No criminal, cyber or other, can ever take that from you.

Oh. And if Password1 is one of your favourite passwords, do me a favour and change it…

Image credits: pbs.org, splashdata.org

“Hi, I’m Paul and this is Barnabas…”

Bourges cathedral stained glass (image source: Wikipedia)

This last week I’ve been tutoring a group of trainees in ethnographic research methods. Sounds grand, but basically  this is about conducting formal interviews with a cultural informant in order to better understand a culture from an insider’s point of view.

All this made me wonder what Paul and Barnabas’s trip to Lystra might have looked like if they had enlisted the help of a local informant before heading straight into the market place to preach…

Paul & Barnabas: So, you’re from Lystra?

Random Lycaonian: That’s right, born and bred here. And proud of it {laughs}.

P&B: Thanks so much for being willing to speak to us.

RL: No problem. I saw you looked a bit lost, and well, as I speak a bit of Greek, I thought maybe I could help.

P&B: That’s great. It’s probably obvious, but we don’t understand a word of Lycaonian, so we sure do appreciate it. Do you think you could tell us a little about life here?

RL: Fire away. What d’you want to know?

P&B: Religion, for example, do you go to the temple to worship?

RL: Absolutely. Can’t be a true-blood Lycaonian without going to the temple.

P&B: Quite. So could you describe what a typical visit to the temple would look like?

RL: Sure. Well, you go to the temple. But you knew that already right?

P&B: {laughs} Yeah, we figured that one out! Can you go to any temple?

RL: I guess so, though most of us go to our local shrine, it’s just easier like that. Unless there is a festival and half the town is going, then we go to the big Zeus one, just outside the city.

Wilhelm Lübke’s illustration of the temple of Zeus as it might have looked in the 5th century BCE (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

P&B: Oh yes, we saw that one on the way here. Let’s imagine you are going to the big temple of Zeus then – what do you do when you get to the temple?

RL: Well, it depends. If there is a special festival it’s different.

P&B: What about a normal day when there’s no festival?

RL: OK, so I go in, and I stand at the back for a minute. That temple is something else. Just awesome, man. Then I go to the front and talk to one of the gods.

P&B: So you have various gods? Can you give me the names of your gods?

RL. There are dozens of them! Do you want them all?

P&B: Another day maybe. Which are the most important ones for you?

RL: Well, Zeus is number one. He’s my favourite, and this is his temple after all, so I would always talk to him first. And then there’s Hermes. There are a few others but I guess those are the most important two.

P&B: Zeus and Hermes. That’s really interesting. What kind of things would you say to Zeus that you wouldn’t say to Hermes?

RL: Well Zeus is mega busy, I mean he’s the top guy. So I wouldn’t bother him most of the time. Only for something really important that I don’t think the others would be able to cope with. Or sometimes if one of the others is giving me grief I’ll go and ask Zeus to get them to cut me some slack. Especially that Ares guy, I just can’t make him out.

P&B: And what about Hermes?

RL: To be honest, I don’t say much to him. He won’t stand still, flying up and down from Olympus. He’s the one who speaks to us, brings us Zeus’s messages, you know, but he’s too busy to listen. No point talking to him!

P&B: And what happens in a festival?

RL: Well, normally there’ll be a sacrifice.

P&B: A sacrifice?

RL: Yeah, not a human one {laughs}.

P&B: Phew! What animals can be sacrificed?

RL: Well it can be a sheep or a goat, but for that really special occasion, it’s just got to be a bull. Or two. Or more even on a really special occasion.

P&B: What would be a really special occasion?

RL: Well, imagine that Zeus came here. I mean here, not Athens or Delphi, but suppose, just suppose, he turned up here. And did something amazing.

P&B: What sort of thing would be amazing for you? I mean, what would make you think it was Zeus?

RL: Oh I don’t know. Like, see that guy sat over there? The one begging?

P&B: Um-hum.

Raphael: The Sacrifice at Lystra (image source: Wikipedia)

RL: Well, he’s never walked. Born like that, poor chap. What if Zeus came along – with Hermes, of course, he never goes anywhere without Hermes – and Zeus says to him – I mean Hermes, Zeus just tells him what to say – so Hermes says to him “stand up”, and he does. Now that would be something else. Boy, would we celebrate that. There’d be flowers, garlands and garlands of them, and we might even make it to a dozen bulls. The priests would start playing their drums and shouting, then they’d come out from the temple all dancing and singing, it would be wild. You’d know something special was going on and the whole town would turn out to sacrifice to them. Ooh, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it.

P&B: Us too. Really appreciate the heads up {nervous laugh}.

RL: You’re welcome. See you around then. By the way, what did you two say you were doing here?…

Capisci?

The end of the Gérard Dépardieu epic film 1492: The Conquest of Paradise graphically depicts the failure of the Spanish expedition to curb the greed and violence of the Conquistadores. In the midst of a tropical storm whose physical violence matched the inner destruction of the colony, Columbus’s faithful translator Utapan once again shaves his head and dons his tribal face paint ready to abandon his patron and return to his native people. He runs across the yard towards the beckoning forest and is entreated by a bewildered Columbus: Speak to me! But he finds no comfort. Before smiling and disappearing among the foliage Utapan exposes the depths of pain in his soul as he shouts back: You never learned to speak my language!

You never learned to speak my language.

Something as simple as this, but it seems it never ocurred to Columbus or his companions. The Tainos people had managed to learn Spanish, how come the Spaniards never learned theirs? It was certainly not lack of intelligence or curiosity, rather an insidious cultural supremacy that held that everything Western was superior to local mores, whatever shape these may take. And nowhere is this more clearly found than in language.

Language is more than the ability to communicate. It defines us, becomes part of us, draws many of the lines of our identity. It links us to the world around us, but only by separating us from part of that world. Language enables us make our mark, to leave a lasting impact on society, accessible to those that share our linguistic identity.

We are created speechless – a baby’s crying communicates loud and clear, but can hardly be considered speech – with a blank page on which language is slowly written by those around us. And so we acquire the ability to express ourselves, to relate socially to another – the Thou of Buber’s world – and  to pour our innermost self out through our words.

It seems to me that this innate capacity for language is part of the image of God in humanity, and a most significant part at that. In the beginning was the Word – communication, self-revelation, expression, thought-given-form – and the Word was with God, for communication needs recipient as well as expression. And the Word was God. God was, and is, Word.

Language is not a bolt-on extra. A mother tongue is the gateway to the heart, sitting at the core of who we are. No wonder when the Word became flesh, he learned our language.

Tomorrow I come to the end of another course teaching language learning skills to a bunch of those who will make it their life’s purpose to bring Jesus to people and communities across the world. Perhaps better than anything else,  learning local languages will connect them with the people they go to serve. As Eugene Nida rightly said:

“Language learning is not a matter of acquiring a simple mechanical ability to produce acoustic signals so as to buy, sell etc. It is a process by which we make vital contacts with a new community, a new way of life, and a new system of thinking. To do this well is the basic requirement of effective missionary endeavour.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself!

Do you speak Christian?

It’s that time of year again when I find myself in Llanelli, South Wales, teaching a group of trainees introductory linguistics and language learning skills. I trust that by the end of this two weeks they will have learned a thing or two about how languages work, and how they can best learn one. And somewhere in the midst of all this, I hope that they will also understand why language is important. As for me, it gives me an excuse to write again about language. Way to go!

In an engaging scene towards the end of the adventures of Don Quixote, the brave knight, his faithful Sancho and their entourage come across a traveller and his companion, a lady dressed in “Moorish” style. Poor thing, she didn’t seem to understand the kind words they spoke in her direction, for she merely crossed her hands over her chest and bowed in appreciation. She evidently did not speak “Christian”.

How many of us speak “Christian”? However we want to define “speaking Christian” – and in Cervantes’ day, it was a simple synonym for Castillian Spanish – that isn’t really the main issue. More to the point is how many people beyond the walls of our churches speak Christian? Because if we are not speaking the same language, we are never going to make ourselves understood. As Taylor Swift would say, “never, ever, ever”.

God has always come to humanity speaking our language(s). Whenever you find an angel in the Bible, they speak in the language of their interlocutor, not in “the language of angels”, whatever these might be. God’s words to people in dreams and visions were always perfectly understandable. Jesus used his native Aramaic but also seems to have managed to communicate happily with Greek speakers in their own language. And the vast majority of the New Testament is written in Koiné Greek, “common” Greek, or that which was spoken by the masses, the trade language of the Mediterranean world and beyond, not the cultured Attic Greek of Homer and Plato.

God addresses people in their own language. And we should too. The second century epistle to Diognetus says it well:

For the Christians are distinguished from other men neither by country, nor language, nor the customs which they observe. For they neither inhabit cities of their own, nor employ a peculiar form of speech, nor lead a life which is marked out by any singularity. [...] But, inhabiting Greek as well as barbarian cities, according as the lot of each of them has determined, and following the customs of the natives in respect to clothing, food, and the rest of their ordinary conduct, they display to us their wonderful and confessedly striking method of life.

Christians did not stand out from the crowd in anything but their godly living. They dressed the same – I guess that might mean hoodies and low-slung jeans these days, not to mention the odd piercing –, ate the same food, did the same jobs, spoke the same language… yet somehow displayed a “striking method of life” that was soon to overrun the mighty Roman Empire.

To “speak Christian” roots us firmly in a bygone age and severs our connection with those that actually need Christ. We risk becoming an irrelevant relic, a quaint nicety that is tolerated, more or less, by outsiders, but little understood.

And it’s not just the “thees and thous” that mark us out as travellers in time. So much of our communication is built on an overestimation of the place of “preaching”, a premise of shared values and shared knowledge and basic “biblical literacy” that can in reality no longer be taken for granted. Concepts of sin and morality, the question of whether God even exists, the reliability of the Bible… we assume so much and fail to connect.

And so our message misses the mark, quite simply lost in translation, from “Christian” to however we wish to label contemporary communication.

We simply have no alternative – to follow faithfully in the footsteps of a communicative God, we must live out our faith in ways that other people can understand. Whether in the way we construct our corporate life, our communication style or the very words that we use, our language must be their language; anything else is a distortion of the gospel.

It’s time to stop speaking Christian and live it.

P.S. If you are interested in one theologian’s perspective on Speaking Christian, see this review of Marcus Borg’s book of the same title or an interview with the author.

A veil of tears

But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping.

Mary — the first on the scene. Confusion. The stone’s been moved from across the entrance. Panic. Wait, no body? What the… Quick, Peter, he’ll know what to do. Or John. Come on! They’ve taken him. Gone. Gone!

Peter and John did little but confirm what she already new. He’d gone. And Mary understood no more than they did. But when the disciples went home,

Mary stood outside the tomb weeping.

Maybe it is unfair and a gross gender stereotype, but — typical men. “No point hanging around moping, nothing we can do now. And anyway, if we’re not careful we might get accused of nicking the body. Best get home…”

But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping.

Mary’s tears kept her where she needed to be, the place where she would be the first to meet the risen Jesus. Yet the same tears blinded her from seeing him. Through a veil of tears her eyes were kept from seeing; it was his voice that penetrated the grief.

“Mary.”

John was right. “He calls his own by name and [...] they recognize his voice.”

“Rabboni.” Teacher. But wait, it can’t be. Master. Is it you? Lord. Jesus. It is you. OMG…

“Go and tell my brothers.”

“Who, me?”

“Go and tell my brothers.”

“But they just left…

“Go and tell my brothers.”

“What if they don’t believe me?”

“Go and tell my brothers.”

“But I’m only a woman.”

“Go and tell my brothers.”

Even in death, Jesus turned the tables on the sidelining of women that ran through the society he lived in. Who else would choose a woman as the first and — until that time at least — only witness of his resurrection? The Talmud is clear:

Any evidence which a woman (gives) is not valid (to offer)…This is equivalent to saying that one who is rabbinically accounted a robber is qualified to give the same evidence as a woman (Rosh Hashannah 1.8).

And Josephus was no less blunt:

But let not the testimony of women be admitted, on account of the levity and boldness of their sex…since it is probable that they may not speak truth, either out of hope of gain, or fear of punishment (Josephus, Antiquities 4.8.15).

Easter is about resurrection. Life conquering death. The vindication of the Son of God before all creation. A way into eternity being paved for humanity. A message of hope and purpose. All entrusted to a woman.

Its significance may be lost on us today, accustomed as we are to the Hillary Clintons and Angela Merkels of this world. But the Bible is to be lived in its context, and this was momentous. A woman, bearer of the good news of the resurrection. Mind-blowing. Quite simply unthinkable.

In this deliberate act of cultural rebellion, Jesus, the risen Lord, delivers another blow to the male-dominated status quo of his day. Faithful to the script he had lived throughout his earthly pilgrimage, so now in his life-after-death. Mary. The one he had healed. The one he had delivered…

“Go and tell my brothers.”

“I have seen the Lord.”

 

Eating with Pharisees…

Jesus fully entered into the “hospitality” culture of his time making the most of long hours of relationship building around a meal. Luke 7:36-50 describes one such gastronomic teaching session.

Jesus is “reclining at the table” – no quick self-service here, in Simon the Pharisee’s house. The cold eyes of the religious establishment are upon him, watching his every move to see if it conforms to the Law. Everything seems nicely “kosher” until, like the proverbial fly in the soup, a woman appears in this man’s world.

And not just an ordinary woman – a notorious harlot “who had lived a sinful life in that town.”

All the religious alarm bells start to ring. The society of pure separation has been invaded by an “unclean” incarnation. One can almost hear the bouncers at the door coming to chuck her out!

Jesus doesn’t choose his religious friend’s strategy of exclusion. Instead he receives the woman and offers her true intimacy.

Her lips kiss his feet. Think about that for a minute. Her tears fall on his flesh and her long hair dries divine toes. The honest, manly purity of Christ heals years of fleshly abuse by men, redeems physicality and elevates heartfelt love above legalistic dogma.

The perfume poured out generously reminds us of the holy temple sacrifices, and is a fitting epiphany to the inclusiveness that Jesus brought to the world via his living temple, his intimate physical body. His body is still alive and well today, reclining where he is invited and receiving, as a friend, the humble sinners who choose to kneel at his feet.

The Pharisees were not happy and were blind to his fulfilling of their law with sacrificial love. Their “separation mentality” couldn’t handle the “touch” – the living incarnation of God in skin. “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is – that she is a sinner.”

Jesus then takes the opportunity to teach Simon a lesson.

With the Cypriot bank crisis in the news a parable about lending money and forgiving debt seems quite appropriate. Two men owe money. One owes about 3,000 euros and the other 300,000 (a denarius was worth about a day’s wages). Both men have their debts cancelled…Which of the two men will love the money lender the most? Simon answers correctly saying the “one who had the bigger debt cancelled.”

How big is your own debt?

Thinking back to another story about seeing the speck of dust in our brother’s eye but being blind to the enormous plank in our own, we seem to all have a tendency to not see our own faults. Religious blindness is perhaps the worst kind. Religion can invite Jesus into the house, but he often gets a less than warm welcome by those who seem to need little forgiveness. No genuine “water” of repentance is poured on his feet, no “kiss” of grateful, intimate relationship, no “perfume” of genuine prayer and worship.

The problem for Simon was that he had forgotten how big his debt really was.

“All have sinned and fail short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:23

If I had been the only person in the world Jesus would still have had to die the same painful death to pay the price for my sin. We have all been forgiven much.

We all have a big debt!

This is actually quite good news, because, “he who has been forgiven little loves little…”

Don’t fall into the temptation of loving little. A fresh revelation this Easter of all that Christ has paid for us on the cross can push us towards a more passionate, intimate celebration of our love for him. Refuse to believe the lie that you are a pretty decent sort of person who’s trying, day by day, to be a little better…You couldn’t be worse! We all need Christ to pay our 300,000 euros.

Accept the free gift of a perfect sacrifice that’s does indeed make you righteous.

“God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” 2 Corinthians 5:21

May you find joy and hope this Easter. May you recline at Jesus’ feet, enjoying fellowship with him and overhearing his voice saying: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

I trust you have enjoyed this special Easter guest post by Robert Reeve. Rob blogs at http://afruitinseason.wordpress.com/ writing inspiring devotionals to feed the soul. Do drop by and take a look.

Do missionaries destroy cultures?

Christian mission work can get bad press. It’s not just the antagonists who oppose missions – the Christian church finds itself under attack from all sides, both within and without. And the missionary arm, that which extends understanding of God’s work in Jesus to others, is often the first stop for criticism. So it should come as no surprise that Christian mission is portrayed in many circles as destroying culture. But does it? And what is the best response to this kind of criticism?

Whatever else we say, a knee-jerk denial is useless and can be positively unhelpful– a deeper answer is needed. Let’s look at this on two fronts.

Firstly, the very concept of the destruction of culture. Like energy in Einsteinian physics, “culture” itself can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only change its form. Culture can be transformed, subsumed, fused with another, engulfed, enriched… but not destroyed. As humans we are cultural beings and cultural expression will always form part of who we are, like it or not. It is easy to use emotive terms such as “destroy” in an act of demagogy that contributes little to the debate but merely tries to win the argument at any cost. Christian missions do not destroy culture as such. But they do transform it.

Before thinking about the nature of that transformation, let’s just get something else clear. Culture is not static. Cultures evolve and grow, absorbing from the interface with other cultures as well as developing through their own internal cultural innovation. The Western voyages of discovery and ensuing globalization that has gradually enveloped the whole planet led inevitably to cultural encounters and a resulting cultural transformation. In the process, certain cultural practices do get overwhelmed and left behind. “Noble savages” actually wanted metal axes once they saw how efficient they were compared with their native stone. And yes, unwise distribution of axe heads by white settlers certainly destroyed the social fabric of more than one tribal people, but this is the inevitable result of cultural contact and clash. Culture is dynamic and in flux; the influences that shape it vary, but it is in a process of constant evolution. Within that, it is only natural and normal that Christian missions play their part in that process of transformation.

But there is more. Cultures change as people mingle and meet at the fringes of their own cultural basin. The majority of this change comes as an unwitting consequence of this meeting, a side-effect of cross-cultural encounter. It is not sought after, by any of the parties involved. This is where Christian missions depart from the script. At its most basic, the Christian missionary effort is about changing the deepest convictions that a people (and persons) hold about themselves, life, ultimate meaning, the universe. Christian mission aims to bring individuals and the societies of which they are a part to a new understanding, an acceptance of the nature of God, the problem of humanity, the solution Jesus offers, and the consequences of all these, as laid out in the Bible. Many of these beliefs are quite simply in radical opposition to the core values held by members of another culture. Missions seek nothing less than the overthrow of these beliefs to accommodate a new set of values and convictions rooted in the revelation of God in Scripture. This is hardly the casual transformation of cultures through the intermingling of societies, it is the planned subversion of existing beliefs in the name of a universal faith.

Now, none of this is aimed at the outer trappings of culture, which is what is usually in view when talking about the “destruction” of culture. No, Christianity aims somewhere much deeper. These deep-seated beliefs, however, and core world-view, must find expression in the surface practices of culture – and not just religious ritual or the re-enactment of primal myth. Social networks, business practices, education, family structure, attitudes towards outsiders, ways of addressing cultural deviance… the list could go on. All that we do is informed by world-view and deeply held convictions, values and beliefs. It is simply impossible for Christianity in its missionary expression to engage with a culture that currently does not hold to the Christian faith without seeking a deep and powerful transformation. Call it destruction if you will. But to aim at anything less is not, in essence, Christian mission at all.

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This post was written after reading the article “Do Missionaries Destroy Others’ Cultures“. The same theme, though from a slightly different perspective, can be found in this Relevant magazine article.