Part 1 on Sameness in the Church found here.
Have you ever filled out a questionnaire with check boxes for ethnicity? There’s never a box for me. Sometimes there’s an ‘Other’ box, but usually nothing. Have you ever stood in a room with complete strangers and have someone come up to you and the first thing that comes out of their mouth, “Hi, so….where are you from?” I usually reply with the neighborhood I live in even though the question is about the tone of my skin. Then there’s my personal favorite, “what ARE you?” a question people think is harmless even though it reveals their shallow worldview. I reply with some level of bewilderment, “uh, Canadian….” As if they should know better. A usual reply nonetheless, “no, no, I mean, where are you from?” Go back to #1.
If you don’t look like everyone else then you’re subtly (or intentionally) on the fringes, and unfortunately that includes most of our churches. Christians can and must do more to beat prejudice by fighting against the allure of sameness and towards a Gospel of deep community rooted in love.
A bit about me. I was born in Trinidad. Half of me is West Indian. The other half has Canadian roots that go back further than most Europeans, and that part of me is Chinese. The other part is Japanese. My appearance doesn’t naturally fit anywhere unless it’s Hawaii or the Philippines (which filipinos routinely inquire about (I’m too tall to be filipino by the way)). I’ve known racism (which pales in comparison to systemic racism particularly pronounced in the USA) and poverty (although as far as I can tell I’ve always had food to eat and opportunity to waste).
In a small way, I know what it means to not fit in–I’ve lived my brief life as an other. Maybe it’s a curse, but when I visit other churches or Christian groups it’s evident to me when everyone looks and acts the same, who the misfits are, or if there are any misfits to begin with.
Christians, and by default our churches, struggle to handle people who are different. We’re too comfortable and safe belonging to communities that look exactly the same. The result are communities that become eerily segregated from the rest of the world and cease to become capable Gospel evangelists. For example, you can capture a brief, prejudiced yet accurate, caricature of mainstream evangelicalism by listening to evangelical Republicans talk about their belief in Donald Trump. The willful blindness paints a sorry picture of evangelicals who, by the very nature of the one they claim follow (Jesus), should be ALL about hospitality and embracing the other (to name just one characteristic). And before you think the issue of ‘sameness’ is one solely about race, the issue of poverty goes deeper. As the saying goes, “we may have a black President, but we’d never have a poor President”, one who looks too different from us poses an implicit threat simply for being unknown.
We all have the other, the one that doesn’t look like you, talk like you, smell like you, make as much money as you, say the right things as you, smiles as often as you, has the same color skin as you, laughs at the same jokes as you, votes the same as you, drives a nice car like you, owns a house like you, worships the same way as you, goes to the same church as you, prays as often as you, from the same country as you, worships the same God as you, speaks the same language as you, and so on.
If Jesus died for all, and if Jesus held to the subversive, clear, central, and evocative calling to love thy neighbour (and as Emmanuel Jal pointed out to me, if that’s hard, try loving your enemy too), why then are there seemingly fewer Christians who even know the name of their other. I surmise the issue rests in how we run our homes and how we disciple. For the latter, few Christians (in particular leaders) submit themselves to someone who is different, let alone know the names and dreams of their literal neighbours. For the former, how your family embodies the Gospel day-to-day–a unit impermeable to the outside, or open to hospitality–reflects what you truly hold dear.
Losing our CHRISTianity to the comfortable drawl of consumer Christianity may not be new news, changing our fundamental routines and practices IS the missing link. We know what needs to be done but willingly chose to ignore the magnitude of the call. Ouch.
It IS easier to cling to our sameness, but doing so IS a denial of calling. Christians are to be agents of reconciliation living out the character of the Great Reconciler, and as such ought to be in pursuit of a different worldview on how we measure people. Take for example that question of, “where are you from?”
What if the question wasn’t about ethnicity or race, but about the community you come from–where you actually live and put down roots? I want to suggest Taiya doesn’t go deep enough. What if our identity was fundamentally shaped by staying in ONE place. What if when we dig deep roots we simultaneously sow Gospel character of justice, beauty, hope, and most importantly love? Would this rhythm change how we view other people? Would it change how we view ourselves?
A community that’s figuring out and living out ways to love–that is to love to the place where no one else will go, and then one step more–is a church I can get excited for. We may not have it all worked out, but at least we meander beyond empty rhetoric and into the unknown of Gospel practice. This kind of imperfect community is at least a place I know I’d belong, a space where experiences trump opinions, and where differences find unity in Jesus. I also know this kind of community starts and is support by me, and my own tension dealing with my other.