I did have the opportunity to visit Santa Fe, New Mexico, for a few days last week.  I have often gone there, and at different times I have appreciated different aspects of the area.  One place I always visit is the IAIA (Institute of American Indian Arts) Museum of Contemporary Arts.  They always have new exhibits, especially showcasing young indigenous artists, and I always learn something about identity, or justice, or culture, or inspiration, or . . .

The artists often use different media, and video has become quite popular.  In one room, there was a single installation by Nicholas Galanin (Tlingit/Unangax), “Wake Me from the American Dream,” 2016.  This work consists of two different video clips running simultaneously on two different screens, mounted on opposite walls.  On one screen, there is a scene of extreme American consumption (a large crowd tearing down a gate to get into a department store, recalling those Black Friday stampedes when people get trampled by shoppers rushing to get to the best bargains).  The audio track is that of a crafts show explaining how to make a dreamcatcher, an Ojibwe tradition that has been appropriated and popularized among the dominant culture as a “marketable Native crafts item.”  On the other screen shows a non-indigenous scholar, who has never visited Tlingit land, teaching the Tlingit language and demonstrating a traditional Tlingit dance to a Tlingit audience.

When I first stepped into the room, I struggled to keep track of the two screens, presenting incompatible scenes at the same time.  I then focused on each screen separately, and found that each screen presented incompatibility as well, though all shared the one consistent theme, what happens when an indigenous culture is wholly taken over by the dominant culture, even to the point of the dominant culture teaching their version of the indigenous culture to the descendants of that culture.

As I sat in the room, taking in both screens, I realized that the competing media demonstrated the split identity experienced by any of us considered “bicultural”—ie, those whose traditional values are challenged by the dominant culture.  We attempt to honor the values we cherish, but it’s difficult to hold to this in the face of more pervasive, louder, and more dramatic imagery from the dominant culture.  And as the voices of our current society overcome the voices of our ancestors, we are subject to others from outside our community who judge us or tell us what is appropriate for our people.  (I have had that happen, by the way, as well-meaning White liberals tell me that I’m not “Japanese enough” because I don’t fit what they’ve learned about Japanese culture.)

As Christians, as citizens of the kingdom of God, we are all bicultural, because the values of God’s realm are also challenged by the dominant culture, even as the dominant culture appropriates Christian culture and claims to teach us what it means to be Christian.  (I experienced this phenomenon as a pastor, when working with new church members whose faith was first formed by Christian talk radio, or responding to a church member whose understanding of the PC(USA) was informed by internet searches which led him to the Presbyterian Layman.)  But our bicultural Christian identity needs to be nurtured more conscientiously, because for most of us, our mother culture is that of the world.

So what are we to do?  We can strive to listen for the still, small voice of God amidst the storms of dominant culture media.  We can focus on nurturing community that gives a glimpse, a taste, of God’s kingdom as a hope-filled contrast to the brokenness of the world.  We can invite others to join our community, while being proactive in teaching them the ways of our Lord, which are not the same as the ways of the world.  And we can be strengthened by reading Scripture, the most certain way of learning about God, as well as listening for God through prayer and worship, and connecting with other citizens at the kingdom table when we take communion.

It helps to first be aware that the world’s culture, and American culture, is not necessarily of God.  So let us not simply follow whatever we are told, especially from the loudest voices, and those who claim to know the mind of God.  And let us be strong enough in the faith and Word of God, that we may assess what is around us in light of the standards of the kingdom of God, that we may not only be citizens in good standing but ambassadors of Christ, helping others to know the grace of Jesus Christ, whose love can overcome even the fear and hatred that infects the world around us. 

May we rejoice and give thanks for the community of God’s realm, and live out of the laws of that kingdom, the laws of justice and peace, of grace and gratitude, of faithful and joyous obedience to the Lord of Love.

Blessings,

Wendy

Yesterday I had the opportunity to preach at Community Presbyterian Church in West Covina.  I asked to come that day because I will be in New Mexico this week, so could not get back in time for their 70^th Anniversary celebration this Saturday.  If you are available this Saturday, you might stop by for the music program in the sanctuary, starting around 1:15 pm.

I preached about Abraham, who at the age of 75 was called by God to pack up his belongings and venture off on an unknown journey with the improbable promise that he and his 65-year-old wife, who were childless, would have a multitude of descendants.  I saw a corollary between this 70-year-old church that has recently become a fellowship of the Presbytery, and how at this point they are embarking on a new venture, with all the uncertainty and questions related to trying something that has never been done before.

I do not know of a presbytery moving an established church to fellowship status, so we are trying something new.  This has caused some consternation for the people who have had responsibility especially for the corporate functions of the church, as we try to figure out what continues, what gets stopped, and what is now to be managed by the Presbytery.  As with many transformations, some of the past will be kept in the future.

This is good news for most of us.  I have sometimes been surprised how strongly North American church folk proclaim “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”  (2 Corinthians 5.17)  Obviously it is biblical, but frankly most US Christians have much they would prefer not to pass away, for we enjoy great privilege, far beyond that of the average human in this world.  I understand this emphasis as rhetorical flourish, because I do not believe the average American Christian has offered up all that we are and all that we have to the service of God.

Now I happen to believe that it is an important exercise to offer up all that we are and all that we have to God; I just don’t think most of us do it.  Even Abraham, the epitome of faithfulness, who wandered around for a quarter of a century before seeing the miracle of the child promised by God, was able to take all his relatives and servants, and all that he could move, when he left his luxury homestead in Haran.

From a skeptic’s standpoint, it would seem that the idea of a new birth, where everything old has passed away, is really only attractive to those who have nothing, those in great pain or want, or those who have done something terribly wrong.  In the scripture passage cited above, it was the latter situation, for Paul.  He goes on to say that by saving the most wretched sinner, God is giving hope to all who might believe:  “for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life.”  (1 Timothy 1:16)  But even Paul did not give up everything—he retained his privilege as a Roman citizen, his marketable skills as a tentmaker, and his education and rhetorical gifts from his Jewish culture.  He was, however, willing to subject himself to the scorn of his former peers, and to be thrown in jail for his faith—and to use all that he had in service to the Gospel.

I’m meandering around an essential question that has always plagued me:  does God play favorites?  How does God deal with the great diversity among individual experiences, from the extremely wealthy few to the masses of homeless and hungry; from those of us who enjoy the best of American life to those in Puerto Rico, also American citizens yet struggling with multi-layered challenges; from criminals who are given leniency and released while small children are being incarcerated by a government that didn’t seem to even have the sense to keep written record of their identities and families of origin?  How is it that so many of us—myself included—have become entranced by the saga of 12 boys and a young adult coach trapped in a cave in Thailand, while over 125 people are killed in and around Hiroshima and Kyoto, Japan with barely a mention on the news?

Perhaps I am confusing God’s view of us as individuals with the way the world looks at individuals—and whether we are in any position to judge if God is being “fair,” as if we have any right to demand that God be held to our standards of justice and fairness.  But this question has been a central puzzle in my faith life—how dependable is God who allows me to have such an easy and privileged life, when others (as close as my own mother) had to live such a difficult life?

We all want to understand and rationalize what we see God doing in our lives.  We like to keep our faith—and God—manageable, not too threatening to our way of life or the way we see ourselves.  But while I cannot know what God sees, nor can I demand that God reduce God’s wisdom to my understanding, I can look to the Bible and see how God repeatedly tells us to care for the widow and the orphan, to seek justice for the oppressed, and how God can overthrow the most powerful or work through them, depending on how they hinder or help God’s plan.

So just to help myself go forward in faith, I let go of any notion that God will be constrained to my understanding of “fairness.”  God’s knowledge, wisdom, and mercy are far greater than what I can comprehend, and I accept that.  While I cannot be callous to the pain of others, I’ve also come to believe that my bearing all the pains of the world does not necessarily lessen the pain of others; rather, can I trust enough in God’s plan of salvation to enjoy what I have been given, while I work for others to find peace and joy in their lives as well?  But I have to challenge myself not to lessen my obedience to God’s will so that I may retain my privilege—but to the extent I can put my gifts and privilege to the service of God’s will, all the better.  As with Abraham, I believe God blesses us, that we may be a blessing to others.

As you might have guessed, this is a central puzzle in my life, and I don’t have any easy answer, except “let go, and let God”—offer up my life, and all that I have, to God, and pray without ceasing, that I may be guided to be and do as God wants to use me in this life.

Following the “enjoy what I have been given” lesson, I am trying to take some vacation time this week.  Hopefully my mind will become clearer in the New Mexico desert—we shall see!

Blessings,
Wendy