I'd rather be a good neighbor

Why are so many of us obsessed with the idea that we need to engage in constant combat with someone or something outside of ourselves? Why do so many of us only find ourselves uniting with others when we share a common enemy? Don’t we realize that this “warrior approach” only demonizes others and makes enemies out of those we are called to love and build relationships with? Have we not noticed our tendency to succumb to the tribal instincts within us that tempt us to classify unique and complex individuals into simplistic categories of “us” and “them”, enemy and ally?

Over the years I have heard many “church folk” talk excitedly about being either a prayer warrior, a soldier in the army of the Lord, or bearing the armor of God in battle with the spiritual forces of darkness. I realize that this is metaphorical language that uses military terms to communicate spiritual ideas. But I think many believers have literalized these terms and have adopted a tribal view of the world where those who are different from them are seen as enemies that need to be conquered, colonized, condemned or converted.

Over the last few weeks I finally realized two important things about myself. First off, I’m not at all interested in being a warrior. I would rather devote my energies towards being a good neighbor. I would rather live my life as someone who is humble before mystery, helpful towards others and honest with myself.

I think that is what the needs of the world call for. I don’t think anything fruitful can come from bloody battles in the name of terror and territory. If anything, I think the most important battles that we need to engage in are those psychological ones taking place in our own minds between the selfless and selfish aspects of our thoughts and actions.

Don’t get me wrong. I have seen enough to convince me that evil "walks the earth" as a real and destructive force in the world, but I don't consider it to be a cosmic being nor do I think we can vanquish it by destroying it or those who commit acts of cruelty towards others. I see evil as a manifestation of the dark sides of our own personalities and an energy that needs to be redirected into something constructive.

When I look at how modern nations seek to deal with the threat of terrorism, I notice that we spend too much energy dealing with the symptoms and not enough energy dealing with the root causes of what makes a terrorist. If they are hungry, they need bowls not bombs. If they are resentful and hurt, the last thing they need is for us to kill them or their loved ones and give them yet another justified reason to hate us. We are foolish to think that we can eliminate the threat of terrorism by becoming terrorists ourselves.

I am amazed by the fact that in our interconnected world community there are those of us who continue to believe that killing and torturing other people will make us more secure. I don’t think warriors have what it takes to vanquish terrorism. Weapons of force and intimidation are ultimately powerless when it comes to changing the human heart. Instead, I believe that our hearts of stone will only be softened by acts of compassion, empathy, hospitality, mercy and forgiveness. These are the “weapons” of the neighbor- the only weapons that can bring healing.

The second thing I realized about myself that I am more interested in having conversations than forcing conversions. The conversations I enjoy are not those that seek to manipulate and defeat others, but those which serve as opportunities to learn about others. Mind you, I think conversion (a change of mind and heart) is very often a good thing. But the decision to convert should be an individual’s free choice, not the result of manipulation or compulsion. We can’t change or control people’s minds or behaviors. We can only be ourselves and hope that in doing so we can influence others in constructive ways.

I think, in most cases, warriors and neighbors both seek to make the world a better place. But I don’t think that any good will come from efforts to dehumanize or destroy those who see life from a different perspective than we do. I guess it boils down to at least two very different ways of interacting with those we consider strangers. If we are focused on being neighbors then we will likely view strangers as new people to meet and experience. On the other hand, if we are focused on being warriors then it seems we will fear strangers as see them as threats that need to be eliminated.

I don’t believe any of us have the right to condemn or destroy anyone else. This is my conviction even though the Bible contains many different and sometimes conflicting images of God which would seem to say otherwise. But when I read the Gospel stories I find Jesus encouraging his listeners to love God and be merciful neighbors, not merciless warriors. Jesus sent his disciples (students) out into the world as vulnerable sheep amongst vicious wolves, arming themselves only with love, and commanding them to be as "wise as a serpent and as harmless as a dove" (Matthew 10:16).

Ministry with the Marginalized

Last night, a close friend of mine told me about Rev. Cecil Williams and Glide Memorial United Methodist Church in San Francisco. He found about Williams and his unique church when he was doing some research on the life of rags-to-riches millionaire and entrepreneur Chris Gardner whose story is told in the 2006 film The Pursuit of Happyness. My friend noticed that while the film shows the shelter that helped Gardner and his son get on their feet when they were homeless, the film doesn’t focus much on telling the story of the shelter or the church attached to it (which is deserving of its own motion picture). My inquisitive friend wanted to know more about this place in downtown San Francisco that was ministering to the homeless and drawing such large crowds. He soon discovered the story of Glide Memorial Church and its reputation of being one of the most popular and eclectic congregations San Francisco has ever seen.

Over forty years ago, under the leadership of Rev. Cecil Williams, Glide Memorial Church- a middle-class, Caucasian, conservative congregation with 35 members- transformed into a diverse and welcoming community of thousands- a place where celebrities and the marginalized could both gather in fellowship. On any given Sunday, it is said that within 15 minutes the entire sanctuary is packed with drug addicts, hookers, corporate executives, gays, lesbians, trans-gendered people, feminists, the HIV/AIDS infected, hippies, Mexicans, Black Panthers, pagans, gothic types, Christians, Buddhists, and Muslims. Newspapers in San Francisco have even noted that the rock-star activist Bono makes it a priority to stop by Glide whenever he is in the city.

Obviously, we aren't dealing with the average church here. The only other time I’ve heard of such a rag-tag bunch of misfits coming together was when a carpenter’s son showed up on the scene in 1st century Palestine teaching, healing, blessing, inviting and embracing lepers, tax collectors, Gentiles, Samaritans, prostitutes, the blind, widows, zealots, fishermen, orphans and children. Such a radical message of inclusion was probably as shocking to the inhabitants of Galilee 2,000 years ago as Glide's message is shocking to us now in 21st Century North America.

Glide Memorial’s understanding of the Gospel is rooted in unconditional love, social action, justice, compassion, honoring diversity and standing with the marginalized. Because of this, Glide also functions as a homeless shelter where hundreds of volunteers come to feed thousands of people every day. Glide also provides recovery and drug rehab programs for those who need them. At Glide, the focus is on action. Glide doesn't focus on doctrinal statements and theological conformity but they do pride themselves on being a safe community where people can be honest, share their stories and find help and healing.

In a 2005 interview with Psychology Today, Rev. Cecil Williams said:

"Being seen as perfect, good or respectable is not my concern. My concern is to create an open and honest community where it is safe to tell the truth. That is what people of all races and classes want today. Whether they're executives or homeless people, all people want to know: Who will care about me? Where can I go to tell my story and be myself?"

Glide Memorial's approach to ministry has served as a model for many United Methodist Churches across the country who are seeking ways to minister to their surrounding communities. In a 2000 interview with the San Francisco Examiner, Williams spoke out about what he saw as the Methodist Church’s misplaced priorities:

“What disturbs me about the Methodist Church is that it's so middle class. It may have big steeples, but they've lost the soul of the Gospel. I think the Methodist Church is so caught up in policies. It's not policies. It's practice. That's what we do."

But while the Glide community focuses on action, its preachers still seek insights from the Bible. Like many churches, Glide hosts regular Bible studies and worship services. However, unlike many churches, Glide takes a non-literal approach to the Scriptures and focuses more on helping their members and visitors find meaning by identifying with and relating their own experiences to the Bible’s stories. The Glide community also knows how to worship. Glide’s worship services are said to be more like “celebrations” where members experience improvisational jazz and blues, poetry readings, community theatre and a whole lot of hugging.

I’ve read several interviews featuring Cecil Williams since I talked to my friend. From what I’ve read so far, I can definitely say that Williams is a radical dude. Admittedly, his approach to the Bible and his theology of liberation would probably frighten most orthodox Christians. In 1964, Williams created the Council on Religion and Homosexuality and was among the first ministers- African-American or otherwise- to publicly champion gay and lesbian rights. Then in 1967, Williams shocked many when he challenged his congregation to “celebrate life and living” instead of death by demanding the cross be removed from inside the sanctuary.

Like I said, the dude is radical. But one has to wonder: If we who claim to be followers of Jesus find Glide Memorial's example to be too radical, then how would we have responded to Jesus’ ministry had we lived in 1st century Galilee? Could it be that Glide's approach is closer and more faithful to what Jesus meant by the "good news" and "the kingdom of God"?

On a more personal note, I began to wonder why Rev. Cecil Williams and his church intrigued me so. Perhaps it is because Glide's way of living out the Gospel reminds me of my mother’s approach to people. After I began reading about the Glide community I called my mom and asked if she had heard about them since she lived in San Francisco for a few years before I was born in 1978. She claimed she never heard of Glide because she wasn’t into church back then. But when she went to their web site and found out more about them she said “Man, that place sounds like my kind of crowd!”

You see, I have what I call “a new-age mom.” She has faith in God and has attended various churches throughout her life, but she is an avid reader who remains open to different perspectives. This is a quality that she has instilled in me as well. Throughout my mother’s life she has been classified among those that society would cast out and I think this intuitively drives her to reach out to other people who feel cast out themselves. She has been rejected by most of her relatives because she was mixed (Black and Italian), she has battled addictions, she has endured sexual abuse as a teenager, she has witnessed the effects of alcoholism and domestic violence throughout her childhood, she has survived on the streets and she has been homeless. Yet I’ve also seen her do a lot of the things the Glide community does for people. I have seen her sit at the bedsides of her gay male friends who were dying from AIDS when their own families wouldn’t visit them. I have also seen my mom befriend an old immigrant lady who lived next door who didn't trust Blacks until she got to know my mother.

Whenever my mom would pick me up on weekends, I would see the wide variety of people she maintained close friendships with: foreigners, gays, rape victims, drunks, drug addicts, drug dealers, the elderly and the mentally ill. She taught me the unforgettable lesson that these people were human too. My mother never turned anyone away and she never felt like she was better than anybody else. Her approach to people has largely informed my ideas about what it means to show mercy and hospitality to the outcasts of society and for that I am thankful. I pray I can show that kind of love to people. I've got a long way to go.

But if I’m ever in San Francisco, I plan to check out Glide Memorial Church. Find out more about this community at http://www.glide.org/.