a bit of perspective. a some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective.

So, excuse the Ratatouille allusion in the title, I couldn't resist... The following is actually an excerpt from this fabulous book I just finished, Following Jesus Through the Eye of the Needle, by Kent Annan. I'm sure copyright enforcement officers would look rather unfavorably on me wholesale copying down pages 178-181 and posting them here, but I see it as my own personal endorsement of the book... just add a thorough citation and no harm done. hahaha. So, without further ado:

I'm suspicious of myself: I constantly cast myself as my own idol to worship, resent and serve. I'm suspicious of the politicians: they tell me and the rest of the world "You're either with us or against us" and try to bring us to out knees before national ideals to serve at all costs, even offer human sacrifices of our own eighteen-year-old boys and whole families of people in faraway lands. I'm suspicious of my culture: with its power over me, I'm unclear where I end and it begins as it guides me by ambitions and expectations into banks and malls and theaters to worship. I'm suspicious of religion: it too often simply confirms whatever the community is (whatever its theological or social [or political] bent) instead of leading us, full of awe, to humbly seek and then really act on, "If this is true, what does it mean for us?"

In my early twenties I was sometimes embarrassed about being American when I was out of the country, as I heard the envy and critiques. But I've become more comfortable with that the U.S. has right. Now that I'm here in Haiti, how can I not appreciate the silky concrete on a major highway or the high-tech machines and buckets of antibacterial used in a shiny hospital? Walk into a classroom in all but our very worst schools and try not to be moved to tears by the crayons, trained teachers, desks, lights, books and materials they have compared to the kids (the fortunate ones who get to attend) in most Haitian schools. Sip a cup of clean cold water delivered right through your kitchen tap. And though millions are inexcusably without health insurance, most can pick up a functioning phone and press 9-1-1, and people in a mobile hospital speed down the road and come to your home to do their best to save your life. In the contested 2000 presidential election, American power was transferred (albeit from one party of wealthy, powerful people to another) without a single shot fired.

But I've also become less patient with what's wrong-- using our military for selfish reasons but not to stop genocide, hypocrisy on immigration, exploitation of trade agreements with weaker nations, the growing gap between wealthy and poor, lack of health care for poor children, the inability or unwillingness to see ourselves through the eyes of others, national complicity in politicians' lies, and on it goes.

I gave nothing (except my tiny tax contributions) to put in place what works wonderfully, and I don't know how to fix the problems. But I have decided how I want to think about the problems and opportunities as I do my little part. It's not original, but intimately sharing life with a Haitian family and neighbors has made more real to me how Jesus talked about family and how I want to think about being a citizen.

He said things like, "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters yes, even his own life he cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:26). He said, "There is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age ... and in the age to come eternal life" (Mark 10:29-30 NRSV). Talking about throwing a lunch or dinner party, he said, "Do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind" (Luke 14:12-13 NRSV).

So as Jesus redefines family, I take it he's also making citizenship basically irrelevant and telling us we should hear statistics differently. Two billion people who are my family are hungry. How many in Africa have AIDS? Mosquito-borne diseases will kill how many cousins because they're poor? Every 34 seconds, well, something awful surely happens. The number of people who are homeless or clinically depressed or addicted to crystal meth? All of these numbers are important but also numbing.

The way Jesus tells it, though, closes any escape routes when he disallows defining the world as Us/Them or as American/Foreigner. My experience is that the Us/Them is real, with profound differences. Yet for me, shared life and Jesus reveal even more profound unity in which we're all transformed into Us, and all into Them. This doesn't allow the problems of others to be Theirs, which We will help with if and as We are able. The way Jesus tells it, the essential statistics end up reading something like this: I have a sister out there who is being whittled away, from life to death, by AIDS. I have a daughter who lives in a neighborhood where a random bullet might pierce her little body. I have a son who is without parents and is a two-mile walk from water that will keep him alive so diarrhea might kill him. I have a bother who was kidnapped as a thirteen-year-old and then forced to murder as part of a wandering army as he awaits being killed himself. I have a mother who never learned to read and never got to enjoy or share with the world all the talents she could have.

This redefined family, like realizing that I deserve nothing, is a needed antidote to my many forms of idol worship. I fail at it, I retreat to my own country for safety, but repeatedly trying helps me pick up my two-by-four to beat/pray my idols to bits. And when they keep reappearing, then I'm reminded to put my faith in the One who ultimately turns dust to dust and makes life into glorious life. And I think the One who kept Shadrach and friends safe in the fire also wants us to take the two-by-four to our own idols. Isn't this what Jesus was telling the rich young man to do so he could be free to follow?

So, my thoughts on the book as a whole will come later... but this particular passage struck me deeply because I resonated with it on so many different levels. I am, by nature, one of the most critical, skeptical people I know (personally, of course, I wouldn't say I know Christopher Hitchens, and Descartes and Hume are dead...). While many people would find that a good thing, it has been a constant source of struggle in my life (more on this later, as well). Here though, I resonate deeply with the discontent and resistance Annan feels with American society. It was really encouraging for me to hear his thoughts and to be reminded of the brilliant antidote Jesus offers for the problem. :)