THE ABANDONED PLACES AND THE MARGINS

Relocation to the "abandoned places of Empire" [at the margins of society]

Above is the first “mark” of new monasticism. On this week’s blog, I will try to unpack and give my commentary on the mark. Right off the bat, what catches our attention is the call to action, which is relocation. The heart of the matter is about going and being among people in the "abandoned places of Empire." We are to go how Jesus came to us, incarnationally in a self-emptying act. The self-emptying act is not for just one time, but signifies many deaths and letting go. But more on this later.

I would like to give some musing to the “abandoned places of Empire” and tie my thoughts later. This is the question of place as well as audience. Where and to whom are we to go? Of course, we must go to the entire world, but this invitation has a more focused emphasis, and I find this emphasis helpful and challenging. The places we go to are where equity, justice, and/or freedom cannot easily be accessed. It is the place of systemic marginalization and bureaucratic neglect. The people we go to are the ones who have been marginalized and those who sit on the outside of dominant powers and control.

 “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet,” penned Frederick Buechner. The world’s deep hunger because that is what those at the margins of society experience. I agree with Richard Rohr when he said being a follower of Jesus is to identify and be in solidarity with the pain of the world, precisely because that is how Jesus walked on this earth. How we identify and practice solidarity with the pain of the world is for each individual and group to discern. I do think there is freedom and creativity in living this out. There simply is not one right approach. Rohr, a Franciscan monk himself, further observes, “Franciscanism was considered to be a sidewalk spirituality for the streets of the world,” Furthering the Franciscan tradition, Pope Francis recently emphasized, “smelling like the sheep” as our stance of being in the world. We are encouraged to do in our day what Jesus did. That is at the heart of being one with the incarnated Jesus.

There exists a sense of systemic and inherent blindness at the top and at the center of power, for those at the top or at the center have to protect and preserve the state of being in perpetual power. Those who are at the margins of society did not choose or volunteer to be at the margins. It was largely done to them. In Jesus’ day, those at the margins were people who were poor, sinners (labeled thus according to those who were at the center of power), children, women (particularly widows), and gentiles. However, ironically but not surprisingly, those at the margins of society are the ones who see reality clearly and discern authenticity due to the pain and suffering they must endure. They traverse the land of innocent delight and abundance through simplicity. The resulting intimacy with God is raw and unfeigned. The Beatitudes is a great reminder that those who are poor, meek, mournful, pure, and persecuted will inherit the spiritual blessings.

Going back to the idea of relocation, I find the verb, relocate, challenging. Not that I am unwilling to relocate, this simply has not been my life experience. My life’s work has mostly been “behind-the-scenes," involved in mobilizing, training, and educating the Church for mission work “out there.” What is more, while I am not rich, I am not poor either. While I have experienced pain and suffering, I don’t know suffering and pain leading to unbearable shame or unjust loss. While I know voluntary hunger from fasting, I don’t know sustained hopeless hunger. While I have mourned, I have not mourned like the families who have just lost their moms, sisters, daughters, and friends from the recent senseless shootings in Atlanta.

As I write, I am reminded of a Muslim follower of Jesus who I’ve fellowshipped with for more than 15 years and counting. When I traveled every year to Asia, we saw each other often in a group setting. As we were riding in the back of a van one time, I remember hearing his story of being thrown into prison for roughly 2 years by Muslim leaders in the area. His crime? He had extravagant joy in Jesus and loved Jesus too much. And even in prison, he was the light and the salt. We would walk the streets in Asia, and he literally could not hold his joy in Jesus and had to share with people he came in contact with. Jesus in me recognized Jesus in him.

Not to downgrade the seriousness and importance of physical relocation, there are other ways to engage with the margins of society. If we can broaden the idea of relocation to beyond physical relocation, then there is more room for creative engagement. Not being quiet and complicit about “the abandoned places” of our societies but actively sharing and standing up for those who have no voice is one clear example. Learning and educating the world regarding the abandoned places of Empire is another. We all can do something. . .

At the same time, physical relocation is a specific call to action. It is about going how Jesus came and choosing to be among them, serving as the tangible hands and feet of Jesus. In thinking of Catholic in relationship with Protestant “workers,” It seems reasonable to think that those who are called to celibacy have more freedom in movement than those with families. While it is obviously not impossible for families to go, things get complex very fast. Supporting and getting involved with those who go are other ways of joining a call to action, it seems to me.

In conclusion, I can’t help but to consider one benefit of being with the margins of society—we find God more readily because we are surrounded by people who are not pretenders but simply and authentically poor, poor in spirit, meek, mournful, and hungry and thirsty for righteousness. Oftentimes, those who engage at the margins experience the unfiltered and more cogent grace of God at work. In the end, we are the ones who get ministered and receive incalculable outpouring love of God. Thus, we dare not go to minister, give, and serve, instead we go to receive and experience the full brunt of God’s indwelling presence. “There” truly is the Kingdom of God.