(Ir)religiosity

Below is the manuscript — more or less, I tend to deviate quite a bit — of the sermon I will be preaching this morning, Transfiguration Sunday, at Quincy Community UMC.  It is based on the gospel text for this week (Luke 9:28-43).

In 1993, Greg Mortensen attempted to climb K2, the second highest mountain in the world.  For Greg, the way up was literally the way up the mountain, to the summit.  But Greg never made it to the top of K2.  There were problems with his crew and on the way back down the mountain Greg was separated from the rest of the group and wandered into a remote village in Pakistan called Korphe.  The people of the village cared for Greg and after spending time with them, Greg realized that the village had no school and no system of education for the children.  Once he returned to the States Greg decided to raise enough money to build a school for the children of Korphe.  This endeavor eventually grew into the Central Asia Institute, a non-profit organization which builds schools for remote villages in north-eastern Pakistan.  Greg recounts his journey in the best-selling book Three Cups of Tea which the Sunday School class has been reading over the past several months.  But these schools are only being built because Greg wasn’t able to reach the top of the mountain.  Three Cups of Tea was written because, in a sense, Greg failed.  Or did he succeed?  It seems that in the end Greg discovered that the way up, the real way up, was the way down — down into the village in Pakistan, down into a world were children had no access to education.  Down into the problems of the world where he could make a difference.

The way up is down.

We see a similar story in our text today.  In Luke’s gospel, Jesus takes three of his disciples — Peter, James, and John — to the top of a mountain to pray.  Now, I doubt that this mountain was as massive as K2 but it was high enough that Jesus felt he could be alone to pray.  This is something that Jesus does many times.  According to the Scriptures, Jesus would go alone, or sometimes with a few disciples, to a mountain or some other secluded place, to pray and mediate often.

But this time it was different, at least that is Luke’s version of the story.  According to Luke, while he is praying Jesus’ face begins to glow and his clothes begin to dazzle.  Then, suddenly, Moses and the prophet Elijah appear next to Jesus and Luke tells us that they begin to talk to Jesus about what he is to “accomplish in Jerusalem,” an obvious reference to Jesus’ passion and crucifixion.

Now, we have all been to the movies with all the new special effects, so let’s image what this scene might look like.  Jesus is on a mountain, his face and clothes are dazzling, and Moses and Elijah appear and start talking to him about his future trip to Jerusalem, the capital city.  Not exactly a calm, still event, right?  It seems to be pretty spectacular.  I mean, Steven Spielberg or Peter Jackson could probably do quite a bit with that on the big screen and I imagine it would be pretty true to the story, at least that seems to be Luke’s version of the story.  But where are the disciples during all this?  Luke tells us that they are so weighed down with sleep that they can barely stay awake!  Really?  Barely stay awake?  How could they miss this?  Moses, one the great heroes of their history who led their ancestors out of slavery in Egypt, has just appeared and Elijah, one of the great prophets is with him.  I mean, these are famous people that Peter, James, and John would have heard about growing up.  And to top it all off Jesus’ clothes are dazzling.  But yet the disciples can barely stay awake.  I mean, imagine it — what would it be like if Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy suddenly appeared right now, right here in this church?  And what if Pastor Susan’s clothes started dazzling?  I think most of us would be wide awake.  But Luke tells us the disciples can barely stay awake.  In fact, they don’t even say anything until it is time to go back down the mountain and then Peter says something like, “Oh, but this is such a great experience, let’s stay.  And we’ll build a church here, in fact, we’ll build three churches, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”  It’s almost like Peter has woke up and realized what’s going on and he doesn’t want the experience to end.  We all know what that’s like don’t we?  Have you ever been part of an experience that you didn’t want to end?  Something that you wanted to prolong as long as you could?  Almost as soon as Peter says this a cloud appears and a voice says, “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!”  And then, just as fast as they appeared, Moses and Elijah are gone and Jesus heads back down the mountain.

For Jesus, the way up is down. Read the rest of this entry »

To create good participants in the current system:

Schools should be focusing on [the capacity to communicate effectively or to cooperatively solve problems], as well as ethical reasoning. Wall Street’s meltdown, linked to shady lending practices, reveals the moral bankruptcy of huge segments of the market. Yet political leaders now urge our children to quietly fill-in bubble tests, seeking only to become productive cogs in a broken wheel.

I’ve been thinking about pedagogy this past week and the downfalls of various methods of teaching and testing.  It reminds me of a Paulo Freire quote I ran across a while back.  I cannot for the life of me remember where it came from.

Education either functions as an instrument which is used to facilitate integration of the younger generation into the logic of the present system and bring about conformity or it becomes the practice of freedom, the means by which men and women deal critically and creatively with reality and discover how to participate in the transformation of their world.

That is inspiring however it is at the same time discouraging to see institutions and educators who continue to foster the present system(s).

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about the buzzwords and catch phrases and all the other “church” language Christians like to use. Words like, evangelism, discipleship, “good news,” faith, mission, and so on. One the most popular and overused of these phrases is “the kingdom of God.”  Now, I’ve already expressed my distaste with this phrase and the need to abandon it elsewhere, I don’t really want to rehash that here. What I do want to reflect on is the way that nomenclature is normally used.   

I hear people say it all the time.  They use the phrase “to build the kingdom of God” or “building the kingdom of God” or something to that effect.  I’ll confess that I’ve used it myself to some extent.  But when I stop and I think about it I wonder about the verb: build.  I wonder if that is the right word to use.  Even further I wonder what the implications are of using words and phrases like “to build” and “building” with our pet phrase “the kingdom of God.”  

And the more I think about it, the more reservations I have. It seems to me that it is this “building” mindset that has lead to the perversion of Jesus message in the name of nationalism, empire and colonialism.  I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t come to building another “power over” empire.  In fact, I get the sense from reading the gospels that Jesus actually resisted the building of oppressive empires.  Instead he spoke of an alternative reality, not “power over” but “power under,” not building, but nurturing and participating—participating in a process that already is and continues to be, a reality that is already “within.” 

But for some reason Christians over the course of church history have really latched on to this Constantinian idea of “building.”  We hopped in bed with the empire in hopes that we might spread the good news more effectively and “build” our church more efficiently.  We’ve done some terrible things in the name of “building”: the Crusades, the Inquisition, subjugation of native peoples, slavery, war, colonialism, jingoism, I could go on.  But we rationalized that all of those things helped “build the church” and “build the kingdom.”  And, in turn, as a civil religion we helped build and expand the empire. 

So, I’ve said all that to say I dislike speaking of “building the kingdom of God” just as much as I dislike retaining the archaic image of the kingdom itself.  I’m not sure what to replace that verb with and I don’t necessarily think that is a bad idea.  As I’ve always said, I tend to be apprehensive at global, catch-all phrases.  I think perhaps it is better find ways of reclaiming the original veracity of the Jesus agenda within specific contexts and locales rather than taking the easy way out of constructing some sort of abstract template or stencil that can be thrown about.  

What do you think?

Introduction: It Should Change, But to What?
Part I: The Community of God
Part II: Why it Should Be (a)Political
Part III: The Republic of God and the Democracy of God
Part IV: The Commowealth of God and the Castration of Jesus
Part V: Final Thoughts

Introduction | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

I suppose I should be wrapping up my thoughts here. I probably should have a while a ago. This ended up taking a lot longer than I originally planned, but then life happened. Oh well.

I would encourage anyone who wishes to pursue this further to pick up Brian McLaren’s The Secret Message of Jesus or Jack Nelson-Pallmeyer’s Saving Christianity from Empire, just to name a few. Both are very accessible and both address this issue much more effectively and eloquently than I ever could.

That being said, I’ll offer a few thoughts to cap off this series.

1.) Kingdom language must be, above all, contextual and vernacular. I’ve mentioned this in some way, shape or form in every post I think. And I did it on purpose. It’s that important. Our images must be visceral and real to us just as “kingdom” very familiar to 1st century Jewish peasants. That’s why I oppose baptizing some sort of universal meta-image to describe God’s dream and ideal for the world. To do that is to miss the local nature of the gospel. Word are very important. We would do well to choose them carefully. A local, contextual image that is effective in white, suburban America is of no use to the oppressed and colonized slave worker in the two-thirds world. And vice versa. Each community must create its own image and its own manifestation.

2.) Kingdom language must be communal and relational. Everything that Jesus did, everything that Jesus spoke about, everything that Jesus stood for, in some way revolved around community and relationships. The kingdom is community. A community were all are welcome and all are invited. Period. No restrictions. No stipulations. No fine print. All are accepted in this community. People are placed before legalism, before religion, and before the individual. This is a community of faith, faith being, a Paul Tillich wrote, “ultimate concern for the other”—empathetic, kenotic, compassion. This is the most basic of all. If we can’t get this right, everything else fails. Relationships are always more important. Always.

3.) Kingdom language must be (a)politically subversive. Jesus stood over and against the Roman system of government and preached a gospel that rejected and challenged the illegitimate authority of the empire with God’s egalitarian ideal. Our images must do the same. Especially now—given the political climate of our context. The American empire, like Rome, must be challenged, subverted and resisted. The absurdity of its domination and hegemony must be exposed and unmasked. And then a glimpse of an alternative type of reality can be caught. A reality not of domination and oppression, but of freedom and liberty. Jesus thought this was important enough to die for, somewhere along the line we lost sight. We need to learn to see again.

It’s getting late, and this is getting a little long. I’m almost done.

I think it is very important for us to remember that this reality, this “kingdom” while not fully realized, is always already within us, as Jesus told his disciples. The kingdom is here, the kingdom is now, not in the ways we would expect, but in the unexpected, the upside-down, the opposite, and the subverse. Almost like a disease, a cancer, that spreads like crazy once infected. Unlearn everything you have learned my friends, the kingdom is here. Eternal life begins now.

~bh ><>

Introduction | Part I | Part II | Part III

Ok, before anyone calls me out on it, I borrowed this image from a book. And a book I haven’t completely read, which is dangerous.

So far I’ve dealt almost exclusively with political images and metaphors to describe the kingdom of God. But the kingdom is just as much economical as it is political, and although “commonwealth” is a political term, I think of economics when I hear the word.

I don’t know. This may be failed attempt from the get go because I don’t hear anyone using the word “commonwealth” anymore. I looked it up on Wikipedia, and apparently states like Kentucky and Massachusetts are designated commonwealths, but I sure as hell don’t hear the Sean Hannitys or the Lou Dobbs throwing it around on their polarizing, propaganda steeped “news programs.” But then again maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised, they are in service to the empire after all, being fueled by our suicidal political machinery, if I may borrow Brian McLaren’s verbiage.

When you break the word apart it’s not surprising at all that nobody “likes” the word, especially now, especially here.

Common – wealth.

Now, I don’t know much about economics, I’ll be the first to tell you that. But on the most basic, semantical level this seems pretty simple. People holding their “wealth” in “common.” People acting humanly. People sharing. People not hoarding up wealth privately for themselves but giving it away to whoever is in need. People being treated equally as people who bear the image of God.

Now, I’m sure that sounds communist or socialist or whatever else you’d like to label it, we do like to label things don’t we? It sort of makes it easier for us to dismiss “that” or “them.” But don’t take my word for it. I seem to remember Jesus saying something like “give to whomever asks.” “Be generous to the needy among you.” Or how about that chapter in Matthew about “the least of these.” Jesus didn’t talk about damnation and punishment much, but he sure did there, and take note of who the hottest fires of hell are reserved for, those who neglected and ignored the least of these. Hmm.

People are really getting excited about “the early church” these days. Whatever that means. I see people all the time (mis)quoting Acts 2:47 to justify church growth, consequently making them feel better about building huge monolithic buildings and buying expensive state-of-the art you fill in the blank. They always miss the verse before that, verse 45 to be exact, where the followers of the Way sold all their possessions and distributed the proceeds to anyone who had need. Anyone. Who. Was. In. Need. Not just the whites, or the men, or the sober, or the clean.  Anyone. Or, how about a couple of chapters later in Acts 4:32 where it says that no claimed private ownership or possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. . .huh. . .that makes the cries of consumer oriented mega-churches, and hyper-capitalists governments ring rather hollow.

“Sell it all and give it all away to the poor.” Why don’t we take that seriously? Didn’t Jesus mean it? Or, was he just screwing around? Why do we insist on being greedy, ignoring the call of the poor, starving, addiction stricken Jesus in our slums and in our ghettos? Damn us all.

I think Barbara Ehrenreich was right when she wrote, “Christ crucified rules, and it may be that the true business of modern Christianity is to crucify him again and again so that he can never get a word out of his mouth.” But even that phrase “Christ crucified” means nothing to us. We’ve domesticated it’s jarring subversiveness. Perhaps it would better to say we’ve castrated Jesus, or we’ve waterboarded Jesus to death. Yes, we’ve castrated and waterboarded Jesus so he cannot turn over the coffee tables in our living rooms. Damn us all indeed.

The Commonwealth of God.

People truly being people.
People genuinely being treated equally.
People authentically living as people together.
People sharing and giving to help each other without reservation.
People acknowledging and honoring the divine mark upon the other’s being.

Imagine that.

~bh ><>

Introduction | Part I | Part II

Now that I’ve got the whole political/(a)political reasoning off my chest I can move into some more metaphors. Again, I’d love to hear from you, if you have an idea don’t hesitate.

I originally envisioned this being two different posts, one on “the democracy of God” and one on “the republic of God.” Then I started pulling together my thoughts and I realized that not only would each of these not make a full post in their own right, but that they were both connected in ways I hadn’t initially realized. I briefly mentioned this last time and I’ll mention it again in a minute. So, anyway I decided to mash them both together in a single post.

Hopefully, if my choice of language accomplishes what I intended, the thought of a “democracy” or “republic” of God seems quite awkward and brash, perhaps even oxymoronic, I dare say brazenly iconclastic. Before you stop reading, let me explain. First, it seems to me that one of the obvious characteristics of Jesus’ teachings is that he frequently uses familiar language or a familiar metaphor in an unfamiliar manner, perhaps even in a contradictory manner that doesn’t quite seem to be complete on its own, but is still very provocative and subversive.

That being said, I’m still somewhat hesitant to use words and images such as “republic,” or “democracy” to describe God’s cosmic undertaking, mainly because they aren’t complete metaphors. They’re good metaphors for a such context and a certain locality, but they can’t really stand by themselves. And that’s why I will keep reiterating that any image or metaphor is always already incomplete. Metaphors need to be local and contextual. They need to be vernacular and visceral. So, don’t take these to be the end all be all. They’re only possibilities. Good possibilities, but only possibilities for a certain context, namely the American context. Obviously it can get much more local than simply “American,” but that is the trajectory I want to work from.

In my last post, I briefly mentioned two main reason why the word “kingdom” would have been very native and politically charged for his 1st century hearers: 1) it (“kingdom”) conjured up the ancient image of the Davidic rule, the golden-age of prosperity and security in the collective consciousness of the 1st century subordinates to the Roman empire; and 2) it referred to the current oppressive and imperial rule of Caesar and his Galilean puppet Herod.

So, I’ve got an image for both reasons. For #1, the republic of God. For Americans, “republic” should instantly conjure up images of the post-War of Independence, pre-Civil War period of history, the “golden-age” similar to the 1st Mediterranean peastants’ reflection and memory of the rule of king David before the exile. A rich period of history, a time of prosperity and success. A sort of sentimental time of history in the collective American consciousness—the way things were in the good old days. That’s why it’s important. It’s familiar and contextual.

For #2, the democracy of God. This language refers to our current situation (aside from the fact that we don’t have a true democracy, let’s just forget about that for the moment). Just as Jesus’ first century hearers would instantly be reminded of the Roman imperial occupation sustained through territorial rulers, so we, as Americans will—when we hear the word democracy–be reminded of our current political situation. The presidency. The nationalism. The flag. The military. The bald eagle. The national anthem. War. Terrorism. All those things. A very familiar image.

Now, I understand that there are obviously some problems here and many of the things that happened during the “republic” period of history and that are taking place in our current period of time are completely antithetical to what God has in mind, however, the language is very vernacular and familiar. Remember, I said that Jesus used familiar language in an unfamiliar and even contradictory manner. Just read the parables. So, with that in mind, I think we could (re)imagine a republic and a democracy of God. But not in the way we would think. We have to use the familiar language in an unfamiliar way. We have turn it inside out and screw it all up. We have to (re)imagine a republic where God is in charge not the white male and a democracy were God is president not George Bush or any other politician.

That’s what Jesus had in mind. That’s the message he proclaimed. What would the world be like were God in charge and not Caesar?

~bh ><>

Introduction: It Should Change, But to What?
Part I: The Community of God

Just to warn you, this may end up being a pretty long post.

I hate to break the flow of things here, but I really need to. I started this series to explore different images and metaphors that we could use instead of the old image of “the kingdom of God.” Something vernacular. Something subversive. Something visceral. Something revolutionary. And something political.

I started with a regular generic, noncontroversial image/metaphor that I think everyone could be on broad with. An image that could come as close as possible to being a sort of catch all phrase, though I’m opposed to any sort of universal meta-image, for the same reason I’m opposed to metanarratives. It takes away the possibility of local fidelity and contextual adaption.

Now I’d like to begin to introduce some of the more subversive and iconoclastic images I’ve come up with, or stolen, however you see it. But in order to do that, I need to have a sort sub-introduction, if you want to call it that about why I think any metaphor or image or phrase we use to replace “the kingdom of God” should be deeply political, or rather (a)political. I have several “political” images I’d like to submit, but to avoid being redundant and rehashing my justification as to why these images should be and are political, I thought post those thoughts first.

Before I do that let me say a few things about a word I just used above. (a)political. I hesitate to even use the word because of its implied conventional meaning, but I chose to anyway. Let me be as clear as possible, I am not using the term (a)political here as a means of negation. That is to say when I use the word in relation with “the kingdom of God” I do not take it to mean that the kingdom of God is not interested politics or is not association with politics. Like I said, I believe it is deeply political. I am using the word “(a)political” here to emphasize the political nature of the kingdom of God and to especially demonstrate that it is not partisan or politicized. Because of the nature of American politics, political media, and political theater, we usually associate the word “political” with “partisan,” or “politicized.” Here I am not. To speak abstractly, the kingdom of God should never be in bed with a certain political party of political affiliation, but should most definitely be actively involved in political action. and resistance. Now, that is a gross over simplification, but I think you get the point. So, when I use the word “political” I do not mean partisan or politicized and when I use the word “(a)political” I am merely underscoring that assertion.

Ok. Deep breath. Here we go.

The word “kingdom” was a very visceral and politically charged word for Jesus and his hearers. It referred to the royal/imperial rule and was important for two main reasons: 1) it conjured up the ancient image of the Davidic rule, the golden-age of prosperity and security in the collective consciousness of the 1st century subordinates to the Roman empire; and 2) it referred to the current oppressive and imperial rule of Caesar and his Galilean puppet Herod.

So when Jesus spoke of the “kingdom of God” and the “kingdom of heaven” he was using a poignant vernacular image. But with a twist. Here it is helpful I think to note the use of Caesar’s imperial propaganda. He was proclaimed to be, among other things, “the Son of God,” “the Savior of the world,” and “the Lord.” In fact, it was said throughout the empire that Caesar brought “Good News” or “Gospel” to the entire world ushering in a “golden age of peace and prosperity.” Caesar conquered the world and established the Pax Romana an ideology of “peace” through conquest, domination, and brutality; perhaps a better description is the Oppressio Romana—a rule of grotesque tyranny.

Enter Jesus who begins spreading this message of God’s kingdom, a kingdom of peace and equality. To his hearers, Jesus’ kingdom of God program would be seen as a direct and overt challenge to the rule of Caesar. Jesus exposes Caesar’s system of domination for what it really is—illegitimate authority undermining God’s intentions. So the kingdom of God stands in direct opposition of the Caesar’s authority. It rejects Caesar’s authority, usurping his pseudo-reign. To borrow from Bernard Brandon Scott, Jesus’ program re-imagines the world, wondering what reality would be like if God were on the throne not Caesar.

From this vantage point it is hard to imagine how the kingdom of God couldn’t possibly be political. The question is how can we re-interpret this image within our context? How can we retain the original veracity and subversiveness and still in some create a visceral, vernacular metaphor? The ideal image I think would incorporate the two main reasons I listed above. But as I’ve said, I don’t think it’s particularly good to attempt to boil everything down to one catch all metaphor. That’s why I’m working on several “political” metaphors. Each is correct and enriching in its own right. Each is good insofar as it is good, in other words each is good in the ways it is good.

But I would like some input. I wrote this post to not only show how I think our metaphors must be political, but to also gather my thoughts. I’ve been chewing on what I believe are several possible political metaphors, but I’m reluctant to go public with them just yet. I’m not sure what to think.

So, in addition to joining the conversation and commenting on what I’ve already said, I would be interested to hear any ideas you might have for some subversive, political metaphors that challenge Caesar and the empire.

~bh ><>

Introduction: It Should Change, But to What?

The image of the community of God is perhaps the most simple and basic metaphor we could use when characterizing God’s alternative reality. Or so it seems.

We like to talk about community a lot in “the church.” We seem to understand that cultivating some sort of a community is at least something we should be doing. But our so-called communities look more like fragmented, arbitrary, collections of isolated individuals than genuine, authentic communities of persons sincerely concerned for the well-being not only of each other, but of the forgotten, the down-trodden, and the marginalized.

And that’s the thrust of our problem. We’ve gladly adopted the language. We use the right terminology. We know the buzzwords. But we refuse to let go of our deep-seated preoccupation with rugged individualism. And by doing so we’ve allowed “the church” to become just another carrier through which our self-interests can be stroked. God forbid we be challenged to become more than mere individuals who live more for others than for self.

We need community. Deep down I think we crave it. If anything, we need it for support and encouragement as we face tragedy. But it’s so much more than just that. We learn in community. We learn from one another. We cultivate virtues and nurture character. Stanley Hauerwas’s metaphor is that of the community of character–a group of persons committed to participating in God’s redemptive action in history. And as I’ve said before we need the community to help us keep our heads screwed on straight, to keep us accountable. I know I do at least.

But again, “I” rules these days and “we” as been swept under the rug. Hyper-emphasis on personal conversion, private religion, and a personal relationship with God/Jesus/whatever have all but negated the much needed emphasis on community.

I believe if we read the gospels–and by read I mean the gospels themselves, liberated from the rose-colored glasses of Paul and Augustine–and pay close attention to Jesus and his ethos we might discover a different type of approach: an approach that is very much community-oriented and relationship-centered. Jesus took community very seriously. He created a community with his disciples, a constant community with which he shared his experience, his dreams, his hopes, his aspirations, his friendship. Furthermore, Jesus was very much concerned with human relationships, a vital component of any community. And when faced with a choice, Jesus always chose human-beings, relationships, and community. Those were the most important. Not dogma. Not self. Not organized religion. Not tradition. Not legalism. People. Relationships. Friendship. Community.

This idea stuck. Well, for a short while at least (I’d say up unto the time of Constantine and the inception of the institutional church, but that’s beside that point here). In Acts we see this motley group of persons that followed Jesus and learn from him creating intentional communities centered around relationships and others. They shared everything with one another because “we” was more important than “I.” People were more important than self. Somewhere along the way we’ve forgotten this story. We’ve traded this beautiful narrative for one of selfishness, greed, and pride; and as a result what goes on within the confines of the church is virtually indistinguishable from the rest of our culture. We merely blend in with the chaos.

As we seek to reject this story, opting for God’s ongoing, participatory and synergetic story of restoration, re-creation, and redemption we must first reject the domination and glorification of self so we may be liberated, enabled, and empowered for collaboration and cooperation with one another. Because God only knows none of us can do it on our own.

~bh ><>

I’ve been thinking about what we call the “Kingdom of God” quite a bit recently. Well, for the past several months actually. This is what I’ve noticed. We do a great job of describing what the kingdom is, what it should be, and how it might look when actualized or realized within a given local context. We do a wonderful job talking about a type of alternative, subversive, counter-cultural reality and how it can function if we commit ourselves wholly to its cause. We’ve written books, given sermons, conducted interviews, and yes we’ve even blogged about it. And that is great. That is good. We need to be doing that. I hope we never quit.

But here’s the thing. We still use the old language. We still describe this alternative reality as a “kingdom.” And though some of us very effectively contextualize what “the kingdom” might look like in our locality, we still use the archaic term conjuring up ancient images of feudalism and chivalry whether we realize it or not. We need different language.

The bottom line is virtually no one can relate to a phrase like “the kingdom of God” anymore. It means nothing to us. It’s not as visceral and indigenous to us as it was to a peasant in 1st century Palestine. It just doesn’t resonate anymore. Most importantly, it doesn’t overtly challenge the status quo as it did when Jesus first spoke of it. At that time, simply uttering the phrase “the kingdom of God” was jarring in itself. Today we utter the phrase but feel the need to qualify it because it doesn’t seem to have the same veracity as it once did.

True we need to change our thinking and realign our interests with the interesting of this “kingdom,” but I think we need a different language in addition to a different framing story. So, over the course of several posts I’d like to suggest a few alternative descriptions that we might use to replace “the kingdom of God” in the here and now. I’m not convinced that there is only once such description, perhaps we need more than one. But we need something. Something that reclaims the original opposition and subversion Jesus intended. Something that will really catch the eye of the Empire. Something that will immediately and directly challenge the legitimacy of the Empire. We need something that is truly counter-cultural. We need something revolutionary.

~bh ><>