For the Abuelas en el Barrio

This week many church leaders made the hard decision of going virtual these upcoming Sundays. More so, it was made clear through official statements made by the World Health Organization (WHO) and the US Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) that we have not yet reached the height of medical or financial devastation in the US or the world. Many are getting the sense that things are going to get worse, before they get better.[1] Anxiety and fear are pervasive among our friends, family, and congregants.   

Only a short scroll through social media makes it appear that we as a country have lost a sense of cordiality and neighborliness. The videos of people stampeding over one another to grab rolls of toilet paper would seem comical, if not contrasted to the images of our elderly standing in a picked-over grocery aisle empty handed. In times like these the Church must ask: “How do we respond faithfully during this pandemic?”

Moving to a virtual format is a valuable first step, as it recognizes the need for “social distancing” to keep safe the most vulnerable of our communities. However, while this is a good first step, I would argue it is still simply just the first step of a potentially long journey. A good next step is to reflect on our society’s current actions and rhetoric and ask, “What do these tell us about how we understand our world”?

“Every Man for Himself” | Counteracting an Economy of Scarcity 

“Then the Lord said to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.” ”

— Exodus 16:4

The sense of not having enough, or eventually coming to a place of not having enough is arguably what is driving the mania that has people flocking to the stores to buy items in bulk. The anxiety of not enough is a tell-tale sign of a culture that exists in an economy of scarcity. These mentalities and sensibilities don’t just happen overnight, they come from years of formation. Within Western culture, individuality is a virtue. It is good to look out for yourself. While this comes with benefits, like the ideals of democracy and of individual voice, it also comes with pitfalls.

The Christian faith has a history of counteracting the economy of scarcity. In the wilderness, the people of God had to submit to vulnerability, believing that God would provide day by day. And despite disproportionate collection, “some gathered much, some little,” (Ex. 16:17) God always made sure his people had enough. In fact, it was the hoarding of goods that produced rot (Ex. 16:20). Unlike the rest of the world, ours is an economy of enough.

If we are going to make it through this time, with some semblance of sanity and good-will, it is incumbent upon the Church to innovate and implement systems that counteract the current economy of scarcity. This could look as simple as encouraging your fellow congregants and friends to take only what they need to last them for the next two weeks at the stores, in order to reduce hysteria and defy this sentiment of scarcity.

We find that acting based on scarcity eventually produces scarcity. The economy of scarcity is a self-fulfilling prophecy. When individuals decide to take beyond their need, someone else suffers disproportionately. This is currently reflected by the desperate positions of many of our elderly.

“It’s okay, I’m low-risk.” | Learning How to Honor Lola

“But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.”

— 1 Timothy 5:8

It has been made common knowledge that the most vulnerable of our communities in this time of pandemic are our elderly and those with pre-existing conditions (e.g. those with auto-immune disease, going through chemo, etc.). So, while it may not seem like the disease poses a significant threat to you or your immediate family unit, the same is not true for everyone in your congregation. We must ask ourselves always how we are actively seeking to honor everyone, especially the most vulnerable of us.

In the Filipino culture, it is very common for elderly family members to live among younger generations in the same household. Intergenerational contact is normative; one household could hold up to four generations. The idea of leaving Lola (Abuela) by herself or in a nursing home, is a relatively foreign concept. In addition to this, the elderly in your “barangay” or “barrio” are also met with a great deal of respect. Thus, the well-being of the elderly is naturally taken into consideration. Now, this does not mean that there is no anxiety of scarcity in Filipino/as, but in days like these I find myself reflecting on my culture. I am compelled to stop and consider the ways that my heritage teaches me how to love my community, especially the Lolas and the Lolos of them. 

When writing to Timothy, Paul makes a seemingly indicting statement that to not provide for relatives is paramount to denying the faith. This seems almost counterintuitive to the scarcity mentality that I just described, especially since many are hoarding with their families in mind. Keep in mind that the Biblical context was perhaps much more similar to intergenerational contexts, like that of the Philippines, and less like our Western, individualized contexts. In a Filipino culture, we would read this to apply to the most vulnerable in our family units. Therefore, every action we take during a communicable pandemic is taken with care and always takes into consideration our Lola and Lolo at home.

The Church can learn a valuable lesson from its Filipino members during this crisis. We must prioritize and give special care to not just our elderly, but our most vulnerable brothers and sisters. We must not operate based on an assumption that most of us are "low-risk," but rather keep in mind that among us there are thousands of people, seen and unseen, who are especially vulnerable to this illness. Because we are a body, a family, that includes people who are vulnerable, we are compelled to protect them with our actions as best we can. The Body of Christ must be conscious of every member, including our Lolas y Abuelas. As one Body our identity, and thus our “risk,” is always absorbed in the whole of our community.

What Does It Take to Be a Neighbor?

When the world is in crisis, it is easy to feel overwhelmed and lose sight of our immediate context.

In times like these, I almost feel like the lawmaker who asked Jesus the question, “Who is my neighbor?” This question, of course, inspired Jesus to tell the parable of the Good Samaritan. What I often forget is how economically prodigal or reckless the Samaritan Man was in response to the hurt stranger on the side of the road. He poured out oil and wine, expensive commodities, to address the man’s wounds, and he paid for the man’s accommodation and any other possible costs. The Samaritan was lavish in his care for a stranger. At the end, Jesus asked his initial inquisitor: “Which of these do you think was a neighbor[...]?”

To which the inquisitor answers, “The one who showed mercy.”

In truth, neighborliness finds its fullest expression when we not only consider the needs of the most vulnerable, but when we consider their needs more important than our own. Ministry at this time cannot simply end at accommodating a mandate of “social distancing,” it must venture on into neighborly acts.

Going virtual is a meaningful first step for many churches, but there is more work to be done. Many church leaders in my area have taken it upon themselves to mobilize the healthy and able in their churches to assist their most vulnerable. They have asked those in their congregations who are over 60+ and most at risk to contact them directly with a shopping list and have made plans to find shoppers for them during this time. This is an innovative way to counteract the anxiety of scarcity, create opportunities of intergenerational partnership, and actively pursue the act of neighborliness. The Church needs more innovative ideas such as these.

What are the ways that you can be a neighbor today for those who are most vulnerable? If you are already living out neighborliness, share them with us using #WOSNeighbor #forAbuela!

“Jesus asked: “Which of these do you think was a neighbor[...]?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who showed mercy.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.””

— Matthew 10:36-37

About Jelyn Leyva

A Second-generation Filipina born in Tampa, FL, Jelyn Leyva graduated Moody Bible Institute in Chicago on May 2017 with a Bachelor’s degree in Women in Ministry and an Interdisciplinary in Theology. She is currently in Los Angeles, CA pursuing an MDiv at Fuller Theological Seminary with her emphasis in Christian Ethics. Having lived in various places in the US, Jelyn’s interest lie in the complex history and multi-ethnic life of the Protestant Church in the US. Her hope is to serve this church and its many colors with the consideration of traditional and contemporary theological scholarship.

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Footnote

[1] “Coronavirus: Over 1,000 Cases Now In U.S., And ‘It’s Going To Get Worse,’ Fauci Says,” NPR.org, accessed March 19, 2020, https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2020/03/11/814460233/coronavirus-1-000-cases-now-in-u-s-and-it-s-going-to-get-worse-fauci-says.

Do We Believe in Mercy?

“Jesus said: “When they were unable to repay, he graciously forgave them both. Which of them therefore will love him more?” Simon answered and said, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.” And He said to him, “You have judged correctly.””

— Luke 7.36-50

Bryan Stevenson did not discover his passion for justice in the classroom. The founder of the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI), while gifted and open hearted, was like any other young adult searching for his purpose and path. The newly released film, Just Mercy, based on Stevenson’s book of the same title, begins with the moment that solidified Stevenson’s pursuit of justice for the marginalized—a moment defined by proximity.

Michael B. Jordan as Bryan Stevenson and Jamie Foxx as Walter McMillian // Warner Bros. Pictures

 As a law student intern with the Southern Prisoners Defense Committee in Georgia, Stevenson experienced his first meeting with a death row inmate. Feeling nervous and ill-equipped, Stevenson showed up for an hour appointment with Henry, prepared only to relay a brief message. Stevenson was not expecting to meet someone his own age, a young man he could have grown up with, played sports with, and sung in church with. After three hours of warm conversation, their meeting came to an abrupt close. Henry was roughly led away in shackles and Stevenson was left with an altered “understanding of human potential, redemption, and hopefulness.”[1] Stevenson reflects on this encounter with Henry, writing:

“I had come into the prison with anxiety and fear about his willingness to tolerate my inadequacy. I didn’t expect him to be compassionate or generous. I had no right to expect anything from a condemned man on death row. Yet he gave me an astonishing measure of his humanity.”

This increased level of proximity to the life of a death row inmate proved to be a defining moment in Stevenson’s education. Interacting with Henry’s humanity and gaining an intimate perspective of his need became the starting point of Stevenson’s journey in understanding justice and mercy.

Released at the start of this new decade, Just Mercy is a stark reminder that the remnants of the past do not just linger as ghosts in today’s world, but color the very fiber of our society. Just Mercy highlights the beginning of Bryan Stevenson’s career providing services to death row inmates in Alabama, and the foundation of the EJI. Through the case of Walter McMillian—a black man wrongfully convicted and placed on death row for the murder of a white girl—the injustice, racism, and prejudice towards poverty which plague the United States Justice system rise to the surface. Emancipated in 1993, only 25 years ago, McMillian’s story on screen becomes a case study of the issues EJI still fights against today.

But there is risk in allowing Just Mercy to become a mere conversation piece. Hitting theatres in time for MLK Day, this film has the potential to be regarded as just another story which makes the majority feel uncomfortable and incriminated by the past, while the minorities say their amens. However, I think this film holds deeper possibility for Christians and the Church. Like Stevenson’s own experience, the narrative places the viewer in closer proximity to a concept commonly devalued—the doctrine of mercy. Trudging out of the popcorn littered theatre, I wondered, do we even believe in mercy?

Michael B. Jordan as Bryan Stevenson and Jamie Foxx as Walter McMillian // Warner Bros. Pictures

God’s mercy is showcased throughout scripture. Mercy, also translated compassion, is a quality God attributes to himself when speaking to Moses in the book of Exodus, stating: “The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth.”[2] Mercy was a baseline God set for relating to his people, underscoring that they would fail on their end of the covenant but he would never fail.[3] Mercy informed David’s understanding of and relation to God as he cried out for compassion when he murdered Uriah and lost his son.[4] God also displayed mercy towards those outside his covenant, such as the gentile Ninevites. It is God’s very character of mercy which angered Jonah  when he saw God extend this mercy to the repentant people of Nineveh.[5] This attribute continues through scripture, being the foundation of the redemption of people to God and the formation of the Church. Paul explains to believers in Ephesus: “But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved).”[6] Throughout salvation history the mercy of God towards humanity is the precedent.

While mercy proves to be a doctrine intrinsic to salvation, our presence and practice as the Church within our communities and nation do not loudly echo of mercy. A lack of awareness of faulty government and social systems, misaligned priorities at the polls, and a lack of advocacy and action on behalf of society’s “lowest” might point to a doctrine of mercy that is more ideological than practical.  While watching actor Michael B. Jordan, portraying Stevenson, grow in compassion for individuals who have perpetrated great wrong, my own heart was humbled.  Many of us, like Simon, have been forgiven little.

In Luke 7, Jesus is invited to dinner at the home of Simon, a religious leader. In the middle of this dinner a woman arrives—a woman known in the community for her sin. She has a reputation. She is known for her worst thing. It is this woman who gives Jesus a grand welcome, breaking an expensive vial of perfume to anoint his feet. Astonished, Simon and his friends are critical, taken aback by this woman’s presence in the home and her unexpected display of care for Christ. To rebuke the unspoken critique, Jesus addresses Simon by sharing a story, and concludes: “For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little.”[7] In our biblical theology of mercy here lies a living example of the just mercy which Stevenson champions. Mercy begins with relationship—us choosing to interact with and see the humanity of another person. Mercy is extended as undeserved favor. This is the example of Christ.

Just Mercy film // Warner Bros. Pictures

Just Mercy asks our nation to consider the mercy and its absence in our systems of justice. I believe for the church in the US, Just Mercy asks us to reconsider our doctrine of mercy and test if it is merely ideological. Stevenson states in the close of the film, “We can’t change the world with an idea in our heads, we need conviction in our hearts.” This conviction moves us to act, to display mercy as Christ did to the woman who washed his feet, as God has always done for his people throughout time.

At World Outspoken we seek to equip the Church to make culture. It’s easy to spot the flaws in our communities, but not so easy to evoke the change our communities groan for. This is why we don’t seek to change culture, but make culture from the ground up, reinventing systems of thinking, and systems of doing and creating, which lead to the advancement of God’s kingdom on earth. Correct thinking leads to correct doing, but first we start with correct belief, belief that translates into conviction to act. Do we believe a robust doctrine of mercy, or do we look with critical eyes at those to whom God extends forgiveness? Bryan Stevenson says, “Each of us is more than the worst thing we have ever done.”[8] A three-hour conversation began Stevenson’s journey to this conviction. I am curious what increase in proximity needs to happen in my own life to change my perspective. And I wonder the same for you.

Learn More

To learn more about mass incarceration, the Word Outspoken team suggests these resources:

• Just Mercy: Take a deeper look at Bryan Stevenson’s journey of justice in his autobiography.

• Visit the Equal Justice Initiative: We visited their monuments in Montgomery. Read our review of their monuments here.

• Ear Hustle Podcast: Hear about the daily realities of those inside the US prison system.

• LIVE FREE: Our friends at Live Free Campaign are working to end the scourges of gun violence, mass incarceration, and the criminalization of Black and Brown bodies. They are mobilizing people of faith to be on the front lines addressing mass incarceration and gun violence.

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About Emily C. Alexander

A first generation college graduate of a rural working class family, Emily C. Alexander recently completed her undergraduate degree in Ministry to Women at the Moody Bible Institute. Emily lives in Chicago where she enjoys long walks admiring architecture and pondering theological and sociological issues. Her hope is to impact the lives of women and the flourishing of the church through thoughtful theological engagement.

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Footnotes

[1] Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson, Spiegel & Grau, 2014. Pg. 12.

[2] Exodus 34.6-7, NASB

[3] Deuteronomy 4.31

[4] Psalm 51.1-2

[5] Jonah 4.2

[6] Ephesians 2.4-5

[7] Luke 7.47 NASB

[8] Stevenson, 17-18

Seeking Understanding: Building Partnership Across the Rural-Urban Divide

Stepping into the fray, Daman asks a pointed question: “Is the church becoming polarized too?” Brought to the forefront by recent political events, rural America is once again in national conversation. But what does this mean for the rural church? What does the urban-rural divide look like in American Christianity? And how does American Evangelicalism value or devalue rural congregations and their pastors? These are the questions Daman grapples with in Forgotten Church.

You might say I grew up in rural America. During my elementary school years, my town added its third stop light and approached a population of a whopping 1,800 people. The summer before first grade, I attended Vacation Bible School on the mountain, gathering with just two other children and a leader in the church foyer. While only owning one acre, the farm surrounding my family’s property felt like our own. We eagerly awaited the years the farmer planted soybeans, as it made for smoother sledding hills. It was a difficult choice though, because the other option was sweet corn to eat. Farmer Donnie would pull into the driveway in his pick-up in the late afternoon sun and my mom would get four dozen, sending us kids out to the porch to shuck corn for supper. There is nothing like drying off from a swim in the river, while shucking juicy sweet corn for dinner, knowing Mom also made fresh bread. Did I mention the river? Yes, the Shenandoah is not just a John Denver song, but also the water in which I swam, canoed, and the banks on which I encountered painful poison ivy.

Shenandoah is the name of my home county and the valley in which I grew up. Historically called the “bread basket of the Confederacy,” the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia is an agricultural community, boasting fields of soybeans and corn, apple orchards, and numerous vineyards. Rural Virginians are Republican voting, camo wearing, deer hunting, gun collecting individuals. They drive pick-up trucks, butcher pigs, boil apple butter, drink sweet tea, and fly the confederate flag. This is the stock from which I come and the world I left when I moved to Chicago. It is this context which drew me into Daman’s discussion of the relationship between the rural and urban church.

The most concise summary of Daman’s thesis is a cry for partnership. Tackling a topic sorely in need of attention, Daman is writing from the perspective of a battle worn pastor, having long and faithfully served rural communities, watching the landscape of America Christianity change. He highlights the overemphasis past evangelical movements placed on the urban expression of the church. Not only is rural America a forgotten place, Daman suggests, but American believers have forgotten the rural expression of the body and its unique perspective and contribution to the church at large. The solution—partnership between the urban and rural church, seeking to overcome the divide, and grow to a place of mutual edification and advancement of the gospel. Simply said, yet clearly something is keeping this partnership from being realized.

At the risk of reduction, the greatest stumbling block to constructing partnership between the rural and urban church is misunderstanding, fed by stereotypes and lack of genuine knowledge of the other. This Daman argued for well, at least from the rural perspective, by endeavoring to unpack the context in which the rural expression of the American church dwells, touching on political, economic, and social issues, as well as common misconceptions. One such misconception is the belief that the presence of churches in rural America indicates it has been reached with the gospel. Daman states: “Because rural people tend to be more conservative, both politically and morally, many people assume that rural areas no longer need a strong evangelistic focus. However, a vast difference exists between being religious and following a Judeo-Christian ethic, and being a genuine disciple of Christ.”[1] This point rings true with my own experience. While full of religious people, with churches on every hill, the valley in which I grew up still desperately needs congregations committed to preaching the Word of God and committed believers walking in obedience to it. Additionally, those rural Americans already seeking to follow Christ have just as great a need of biblically and theologically trained church leadership as suburban or urban congregations, a point Daman brings to light.

I am unsure if Daman realizes his argument works both ways. The urban church, and any expression of the body of Christ which differs from one’s own, can be equally misunderstood. Herein lies my greatest critique. While crying out for partnership, Daman veers off the track of the rural/urban discussion into the large/small church discussion. While churches in rural towns of two hundred arguably have a smaller population to draw from than a church plant in Queens, one cannot equate urban with large church or rural with small. As someone who attends a church with an average attendance of approximately sixty in an affluent northwestern neighborhood of Chicago, I can attest first hand that my pastor deals with some of the same challenges my pastor from the Shenandoah Valley encountered. Here, precisely, is where believers must take a step back to listen, analyze, and maybe take a breath before speaking.

“No church can be reduced to its location.””

— Emily Alexander

No church can be reduced to its location. Each local expression of the body of Christ is composed of unique individuals, having experienced a variety of socio-economic, religious, and political backgrounds. One may be tempted to generalize rural churches as dying, small, and traditional. One may also be tempted to color urban churches as large, popular, and progressive. But generalizations only feed stereotypes and increase misunderstandings. The cry for partnership will not be recognized until we set aside our stereotypes, lay down our locality, and listen to the experiences of the “other.”

Quite possibly Daman is misidentifying the root problem in the American church when he identifies it as polarization. Instead, it seems that he is describing the habit of “othering” between believers.[2] However, this habit has no place in the body of Christ. The church is neither rural or urban, neither American or otherwise, but a unified, collective body of unique image bearers who have been brought into the Kingdom of God through the gospel of Jesus Christ. For the unity of His Body, Christ prayed, asking that the interpersonal relationships in the Church would reflect the unity and working together of the Godhead.[3]

Fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking understanding,” is a phrase coined by Anselm of Canterbury, a theologian of the early 11th century. In an introductory theology course during the first semester of my life in Chicago, this quote was given to me as a framework from which to study theology. Little did I know it would also become my framework for ecclesiology. How can one seek fellowship with another believer, particularly of a different background or locality, unless first seeking to understand? Raised as a proud southerner, taught a particular bias of civil war history, I had no understanding that the confederate flag, proudly waved on the porches of many homes in my county, was a symbol of grievance and offense to my black brothers and sisters. I had never had a friend that was black, so I didn’t understand. Nor did I have a pressing reason to seek to understand. Stepping onto the campus of a theology school during the height of Black Lives Matter, my worldview fell to pieces as I heard fellow students share their painful heritage. It wasn’t until I sought to understand, until I laid down the confederate flag flying in my own heart, that I could find fellowship. It is only in first seeking to find fellowship through mutual listening and understanding, that partnership can even be considered, something Daman himself is trying to do. Unveiling his heart and experience as a rural pastor, Daman’s cry for partnership is embedded in seeking to be understood.

So what about partnership? What about the rural and urban church joining together for the advancement of the gospel? Understanding leads to fellowship, which in turn leads to partnership, when, like Christ modeled, it is pursued in humility. This past summer I was offered an internship position in a large black church on the south side of Chicago. Thrilled, yet terrified, I met with a black man I respect whom also pastors a church in the city, and hesitantly voiced my concern. “Why would they want me? A girl from the south. A girl who didn’t have a personal friendship with an individual from another ethnicity or skin color until age twenty. Why would this church want me to intern with them?” Gently, kindly, he encouraged me to enter the black church community in humility, seeking to learn and understand. Three months later, I have experienced Biblical, ecclesial partnership in a way I didn’t know possible, in a way that will forever shape the trajectory of my ministry. But only because I entered in humility, seeking to understand, desiring fellowship, hoping to bring my unique giftings to be utilized only if of use to the needs of the congregation.

Once misconceptions and misunderstandings are cleared through the process of listening and nurturing fellowship, the real work of partnering together can occur. This partnership extends from an acknowledgement of both weaknesses and strengths, and an identification of commonalities. Today, the opioid crisis in America impacts countless of families and communities. In her 2018 book, Dopesick, Beth Macy unveils how the opioid crisis is affecting not just urban and suburban communities, but also ravaging central Appalachia. The Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, while classically played off as traditional and idyllic, lies right in the thick of the opioid mess. Is it possible that the urban expression of the body of Christ who have planted churches in neighborhoods wracked by drug abuse, gang influence, and violence (strength through experience), could possibly come alongside the rural church (weakness through inexperience) to battle against the increasing opioid crisis (shared commonality)? Quite possibly the rural church has a unique contribution to offer in return. A theology of space and land, deriving from generational ties to farms, mines, rivers, forests, and even buildings, could be shared with urban believers seeking to reach their communities with the gospel through constructing a sense of place. As Daman so poignantly suggests, the parts of the body, as outlined by Paul to the church at Corinth, are not specific to a local expression of the church, but applicable to the global church as well. The rural church cannot live into the fullest expression of the body of Christ without its urban and suburban sister churches, just as the urban church can benefit from the perspective and theological underpinnings of rural congregations and ministry leaders.

As I step back and consider the past three years of learning from the urban church, what rises to the surface are not so much the differences between my home community and Chicago, but the similarities. Similarities grounded in the brokenness of mankind and its need for redemption through the gospel. Similarities of tired land and decaying buildings crying out to be renewed by the Creator of all things. And within the church specifically, mutual human experiences of joy and pain both challenged and transformed by the participation in the global church of Jesus Christ. The urban church has equipped me to once again enter into my rural community, this time with fresh eyes, my heart ready to listen, my mind ready to understand, and my hands eager to partner within a local expression of Christ’s body. This experience prompts me to agree with Daman, that the rural church too can bring a transforming and needed perspective to American evangelicalism. But this can only happen if you as well are willing to lay down your flag of locality and seek to understand.

About Emily C. Alexander

A first generation college graduate of a rural working class family, Emily C. Alexander recently completed her undergraduate degree in Ministry to Women at the Moody Bible Institute. Emily lives in Chicago where she enjoys long walks admiring architecture and pondering theological and sociological issues. Her hope is to impact the lives of women and the flourishing of the church through thoughtful theological engagement.

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Footnotes

[1] Daman, pg. 49.

[2] I am using a definition of othering that is like this basic definition pulled from the Google dictionary. Othering is "to view or treat (a person or group of people) as intrinsically different from and alien to oneself." I was hesitant to use "othering" because some view it as a fairly liberal concept, connected to inclusivity. However, if we look at history, it proves to be a sinful human response to differences.

[3] John 17.20-21

Lessons From A Man Called Ove: A Story about Inclusion and Community

Some years ago, I was in the second round of interviews for a pastoral position with a significant church in Chicago. This church was in the process of launching several new campuses, and my neighborhood was their next target for a new site. They wanted this campus to have two pastors on staff that reflected the primary ethnic-groups residing in Logan Square: an older Hispanic community and a younger, millennial-aged white constituency. As is customary, I was given a few minutes to ask questions of my interviewers, and my first was this:

“Hispanics value the care of their elders. Your church has a younger membership, so how do you intend to serve the Abuelas and Abuelos and make them part of your community?"

The response was bewildering. The pastor reminded me that the church’s brand was younger, that it was part of their “DNA,” and he suggested that no plans would be significantly changed to serve or integrate the elderly. Inexplicable! A church interested in reaching, serving, and representing all of Logan Square wasn’t considering the longstanding Abuelo/a who sits on the porch every day to watch the neighborhood. The sad truth is his response reflects the real experiences of elderly people frequently ignored, even cast out, by the rapidly developing city around them. Thanks to Fredrik Backman, however, these experiences are set, named, and reconsidered in the fictional life of his original character, Ove, and his story exposes just how vital elders are to the city we make.

Introducing A Man Called Ove

Ove is the titular character of Fredrik Backman’s first novel. He is a man of principle who believes a thing should be done or abstained simply because its right. “Men are what they are because of what they do. Not what they say,” says Ove. He’s a misunderstood widower labeled a curmudgeon, and he’s forced out of society completely, left alone to contemplate his presumed uselessness and plan his suicide. This is Ove’s condition when the reader meets him. He’s alone “in a world where he no longer [understands] the language,” dejected, and preparing to take his life. The trope of the old hero forgotten by society and broken by an untimely lost is used by Backman to bring readers near to the experience of this bristly old Swede. Ove is a hero. But, Ove is lost.

In this story, as in others, the hero must be found and called back from his exile before the villains can be defeated. However, it is his calling and foes that reveal the unique insights latent in Ove’s story. Here are three of the many lessons learned from Ove and his neighborhood.

Seen and Known

It takes someone who knows the margins to bring someone back into the fold. Ove and his neighbors are living a fragmented experience of community when the story begins. Rune and Anita, Ove’s oldest friends, no longer speak to him. His neighbor across the street, Anders, is judged from a distance and suspected of being a dubious character. Where there was once a vibrant community of neighbors, there is now only echoes of an old life which only serve to further ostracize the characters. That is, until the arrival of a certain “crazy, pregnant foreign woman and her utterly ungovernable family.”

Parvaneh, an Iranian immigrant, moves into the neighborhood with her husband Patrick and their children and immediately restores life and laughter to its residents. She sees through Ove’s rough exterior, and her daughters quickly fall in love with their new “granddad” (or Abuelo).  Parvaneh is the force behind Ove’s reintegration, compelling him to help Anita and Rune, take in the stray cat fond of Ove’s home, and interact with Jimmy and the other young men of the row house street. Because of her, Ove becomes a handy-man, helping the “fools” in almost every house within a four-street radius. On one occasion Ove mumbles to his wife, “Sometimes it can be quite nice having something to get on with in the daytime.”

“The neighbors are saying he’s been “like a different person” these last days, that they’ve never seen him so “engaged” before."

All this teeming life is born from Parvaneh’s insistence that Ove return from his exile. She becomes like a daughter to the old Swede. Were it not for her, Ove’s gift would be lost to the world. Instead, Ove flourishes in his old age, and his neighbors benefit from his presence thanks to Parvaneh’s call.

The Dignity of Work

Ove frequently bemoans the new world of modern society. He hates credit cards, thinks the idea of retirement is flawed and unjust, and is shocked by the general lack of loyalty toward Saab, the only car manufacturer Ove trusts. “Nowadays people change their stuff so often that any expertise in how to make things last was becoming superfluous,” thought Ove. The lost of that expertise meant that Ove was viewed as a relic.

In an astounding display of blindness and injustice, Ove’s employer forcibly retired him. “This was a world where one became outdated before one’s time was up,” thought Ove. Many of his critiques of the world proved to be wisdom in the end. When Parvaneh successfully brought Ove back into community, she also revealed the importance of his skill for others. Beyond his technical and architectural skills, Ove helps young Adrian with his romantic woes and provides leadership for the community. The dignity of work and tradition are made clear through Ove’s story.

Resist. Together.

Ove and his wife, Sonja, were the first to move into their community. “Their understanding was that children should live in row housing developments among other children. And less than forty years later there was no forest around the house anymore. Just other houses.” The quiet backwater home became a city district, and they had drug dealers, young couples, and immigrants as neighbors. Ove lived to see the under-developed neighborhood come to age and grow old, gentrifying as a “parade of uppity real estate agents … patrolled the little road between houses … like vultures watching aging water buffalo.”

Gentrification done wrongly is a destructive force, and its effects are observed in Ove with accuracy. In a study of the Italian West End of Boston, Marc Fried observed severe grief in residents who experienced the loss of their homes.[1] It is not simply the loss of a habitation, but the memories that are grieved. Old buildings become monumental works of art. Ove experiences such lost. However, when Rune and Anita are facing the similar threat, Ove gathers the community in their support. The book reveals the remarkable power of a community that works together against systems of injustice.

One of the most riveting lines in the book is said by Sonja’s new principle and boss. When offering her the job at the local school, he says, ““There’s no hope for these boys and girls,” the headmaster soberly explained in the interview. “This is not education, this is storage.” Sonja, a hero in her own right, resists this notion and teaches her young pupils to read Shakespeare. Education, gentrification, homophobia, and generational bias are all confronted by Ove and his community. They do it together, and they overcome.

Life is a Curious thing

A Man Called Ove is a story about a hero resisting the systems of social change that empower wicked men to exclude the elderly, the weak, and the disabled. These white-shirted villains are city councilmen who believe they have the power to evaluate people and decide when they are only good enough to die. Our vision for the world can and should be shaped by Parvaneh’s reminder that the elderly are needed just as much by their communities as they are dependent on them to flourish. Ove himself reveals the dignity of work done well and the vitality of a world that enables the work of its elders. The entire community illuminates the tangibility of social injustice, and they encourage the reader to resist by pursuing another way of flourishing, one that commits to the well-being of those Abuelos and Abuelas that are often forgotten.

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Footnote

[1] Emily Badger, “Why Trump’s Use of the Words ‘Urban Renewal’ Is Scary for Cities,” The New York Times, December 7, 2016, http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/07/upshot/why-trumps-use-of-the-words-urban-renewal-is-scary-for-cities.html.

Disability and the City We Make: Including the Disabled

Culture-making is a communal enterprise. Culture is always made by, with, and for the community. Too often, however, we relegate the responsibility of culture-making to a sub-group of elite or exclusive people. We reduce culture to its popular and folk elements and depend on artists and media personalities to produce it. We reduce culture to social norms and values, depending on local educators and youth leaders to cultivate them in the next generation. We reduce culture to a set of systems and quarrel for more political power and agency. In a variety of ways and for a web of related-reasons, we exclude members, including ourselves, from culture-making and from contributing to the city we make.

Good culture-making, however, depends on the contributions of all community-members, reflecting the wide array of personalities, abilities, and skills found in the people. This includes the disabled (or “differently-abled”) among us. We recently asked our friend, Dr. Andrew Beaty, to help us consider the role of the disabled in culture-making and our responsibility as enablers making room for their contributions. Here are Dr. Beaty’s helpful insights on the disabled and the city we make.

Questions for Andrew

1. How did you come to your vision for the disabled in our community?For me, it was a slow process. Growing up, my church had a couple of people with disabilities, but I never really interacted with them, and my school setting totally separated students with disabilities from the general school population. In my educational career, I did not get much information on how to serve or interact with those who have disabilities. However, in the first church I served after seminary, I was thrust into a situation where we had a couple families who had several kids with wide varieties of disabilities and I had to interact with parents, professionals, and various resources to learn how to include these kids into various aspects of our church’s ministry. Over the years, I also did community-based counseling for kids with needs in both public and non-public schools and in a state mental health hospital. Then, my wife and I adopted six children with a wide variety of special needs, and the issues became much more personal! This has opened doors for us to interact with people in conferences, in advocacy roles, in higher education, in the church realm, in school settings, in community organizations, etc… Each of those experiences enhanced my understanding of the struggles that both individuals and families encountered in every aspect of their lives. I began to understand that engaging with those impacted by disabilities was a “big picture” issue that impacts each of us in so many ways...whether we realize it. I’ve seen the incredible gifts that our communities are missing because we’ve placed labels on people that exclude them from “our culture,” and that is one of the issues that really motivates me.

2. What role do disabled persons share in our culture-making?We don’t often take the time to think through how important those with disabilities were to Jesus. Think through all the situations in the Gospels where he healed those with disabilities…or even where He didn’t heal them.In the Scriptures, those with disabilities are seen from God’s view as being made in His image…just like those who are not disabled. In Paul’s descriptions of the Body of Christ and the giving of spiritual gifts (Romans 12; 1 Corinthians 12), there isn’t a footnote or exception that says that those with various disabilities don’t have the same access to the Holy Spirit, and in fact, Paul is quite clear that every part of the Body of Christ is important. We can’t function well when parts are missing. So, in the Lord’s view, those with varying abilities are considered part of the community and part of those building culture in their spheres of influence.Because the term “disabled” can cover so many different situations, it is hard to cover everything with one broad brush stroke, but everyone needs to be part of making our culture.

3. How can the broader community make space for the disabled to flourish in their role?Perhaps one of the biggest areas that people can think about is how to focus on the word “ability” and minimize the “dis” part of the word. When we start out with the assumption that someone is broken or not able to participate, let alone thrive in our collective community, it becomes difficult to make that space. I went to a conference last year where Emily Colson explained that we need to move beyond giving those with different abilities token positions in society but to move towards including them in all aspects of life. At the conference and in her book, Dancing with Max, she often shares stories of how she and her son Max encounter situation after situation that cause others to stop and evaluate how someone with autism can participate in normal everyday activities like worshiping at church or attending a movie in a theater. Each of these situations provides opportunities for others to grow in evaluating how we either allow or restrict those impacted by disabilities to thrive.We’ve experienced both the positive and negative aspects of people’s interactions with our family as people have either squashed or encouraged our involvement in society. There are negative stories like the time one of our boys with autism screeched and cried for the entire ride on a train that had been a special treat for him… and I overheard people complaining that kids “like him” should never be allowed to be out in public where they ruin things for everyone else. We’ve also been able to participate in a basketball program at our church where nobody got upset that this same boy is doing cartwheels on the court instead of playing defense or that he runs off the court to hug his service dog when he’s supposed to be playing. The first response keeps us from flourishing, while the second one invites us to be participants in the broader culture.

   It can also be easy for people to erroneously believe that the role of helping others belongs to “somebody else”. I think we can go to the extreme of thinking, “I can’t invite someone in a wheelchair to lunch at my house, because I have steps that they can’t get up.” Then, we dismiss our role in serving others. However, there are ways that everyone can be part of helping those with disabilities flourish. Here are a few concrete ways that we can engage others: Offer to prepare a meal or even have a pizza delivered to a family to let them know you’re supporting them; instead of avoiding someone with a disability, go up and start a conversation...just like you would with anybody else; get to know someone with a disability and include them in conversations or activities that you’re already engaged in; offer to serve someone with a disability by being a buddy in a class at church; assist with projects like cleaning, building a wheelchair ramp, grocery shopping, or serving other needs; volunteer with an organization like Special Olympics or a support group for those facing disabilities; offer to provide respite care for parents who aren’t able to ask “the neighborhood jr. high babysitter” to watch their kids; or gather a group of friends who will work together on any of these ideas. The key point is to move from a position of fear and avoidance to one of fearless love and engagement with those who are different than you are.

4. Can you share a story of a disabled person who is actively exercising their role as a culture-maker?Joni Eareckson Tada is an amazing example of a person who became disabled through an accident but who has subsequently turned what seemed like a tragedy into a ministry that has elevated the place of those with disabilities. When she was a teenager, she broke her back, and became a quadriplegic. After initially wrestling with her faith and what the future held for her, she started a ministry called Joni And Friends that helps those with disabilities be part of the culture and challenges the Church to view those with special needs as an important part of the Church and not just those on the fringes of society.They provide both physical assistance to those with disabilities through programs like refurbishing and donating wheelchairs for people who need mobility to be part of society. They have also done extensive work to prepare curriculum for churches to use as they wrestle with the biblical and theological aspects of suffering. Their family retreats serve families who are impacted by disabilities so that those with special needs can experience a retreat designed for them, and that also gives their caregivers some respite and encouragement.

5. Where can we find more stories like this one?There are several books on the Joni And Friends’ website that have biographies of individuals and families who are using their disabilities to engage the culture in different ways. KeyMinistry.org also has links for various resources such as books and links to blogs that share the stories of others who are in the journey of working out how they intersect with society and culture in general. Many of our friends who are disabled or who have family members with disabilities would love to discuss how they view their place in culture; how they feel marginalized, but how they want to make a difference; how they are currently engaging in the culture; how they would like to do more at being part of society generally instead of living life with a particular label being their primary identifier.Again, if you want to raise the awareness of ways to engage those with disabilities, invite someone from Easterseals, March of Dimes, Autism Speaks, Special Olympics, etc… to come and speak to a group that you gather or that you regularly participate in.

6. Do you think priorities or values need to change for the disabled to be better integrated in our work together? If so, which values do you think need to be confronted or reevaluated?As I mentioned earlier, our society seems to focus on the negative aspects of disabilities with the automatic assumption that a disability is bad. We often get responses that show that negative view with questions like, “What is his problem?” “Have you prayed that he will be healed?” “We’re so sorry you have a kid with so many issues.” “Why do you have to give your kids medications...can’t they be fixed by some diet or some ‘magical’ therapy?” These kinds of questions seem to resonate more with scriptural passages like John 9 where Jesus’ disciples assumed that just because a man was blind sin was involved. However, Jesus reminds his followers that God works through disabilities to bring His own glory.Another value that may need to change is the concept that each of my friendships needs to be equally beneficial to both people. When I view my willingness to interact with someone who has disabilities through the lens that it must be “worth my time,” my selfishness can hinder the ability of my friend to participate together with me. I get frustrated as a father because nobody wants to invest the time to hang out with my awkward junior high son who has several disabilities... even though I know it could be tough to engage him. BUT, then, when I’m given the opportunity to invest time with my friends who have disabilities, I find myself counting the cost to me instead of counting the blessings to my friends. And, I find that so easy to do... it’s not like it’s tough for me to ignore others... it’s right there in front of me. So, I know it’s hard to change our priorities and values, but it needs to happen if we ever want to change how we view those with disabilities.

7. Can you share a story of a community that has done this well?My church community is in the process of learning to do this well. We aren’t perfect, but we’re working to change our church and our community’s view of those with disabilities. For instance, here is a video clip of a recent special offering we took up to support Special Olympics in our area: Dollar Offering Testimony. We played this video in our services which also helps our community see that this is part of our normal life. Our church also has two people with disabilities that serve as greeters each week. They are part of that change showing that they have value and worth. We have moved from seeing those with special needs as the most dispensable members of our congregation to investing in sensory rooms, hiring a full-time pastor of special needs, training volunteers to work with wide varieties of special needs from birth through adulthood, and offering a support group that provides training and encouragement for families.Our sports ministry is still growing in what it looks like for kids with special needs to participate with their peers. We recently had a situation where, due to several elements, we were not able to allow a child with some extreme needs to attend summer camp. This caused a lot of frustration with the child and the parents, so we’re working through ways not to be put in that situation in the future. Even though I’ll brag on how our church is impacting our community, part of changing culture is realizing that you’re going to make some mistakes along the way and that you’ll have to ask for forgiveness and strive to do better the next time. Even though we’ve made many mistakes, our church’s population of children with special needs has grown by over 40% over the past year (we’re a church of about 6,000 in attendance on Sundays), which is an incredible statement that shows that families who have kids with disabilities are looking for communities that will include them and help them be part of the culture around them.

8. Based on your ministry experiences, what pitfalls do you think should be avoided when trying to become an integrated community that cultivates flourishing disabled persons?There are a handful of pitfalls that I’ve experienced. One of them is thinking that it’s impossible to interact with, serve, and serve with the disabled until everything is perfect. If individuals and churches wait until everything is 100% ready to go, it will likely not get started. Start with where you’re at and improve as you go along. At the same time, there needs to be some training to understand the disabilities you will be working with. Another pitfall is thinking that providing one area of ministry for disabilities automatically fixes things for everyone. For instance, just because someone is signing the worship and sermon elements of a service does not mean that those who are deaf have the ability to attend children’s or youth classes where there isn’t an interpreter, nor does it mean that those individuals feel integrated into the broader community of the church unless there is a concerted effort to help them be able to interact with others. A third pitfall is believing disabilities are a result of someone’s lack of faith. Believe me, you don’t need to ask people impacted by disabilities if they’ve prayed... trust me... we all pray...a LOT! But, we would all appreciate your prayers for us to have wisdom as we navigate our lives that are different than many of our friends’! A fourth area that impacts the integration of the disabled is when caregivers are forgotten. Most of the families we know are lonely, and many fight major depressive episodes. Having a family member with a disability is relentless. The needs can be crushing, whether it is driving an hour or more each way to go to a medical specialist, needing to load a mobility scooter or a service dog into a van just to run errands, or not being able to find someone who is qualified to watch kids, so parents can have a date night. Don’t let the families fly under the radar.

About Andrew and Moody's Program

Dr. Andrew Beaty serves at Moody Bible Institute—Distance Learning as the Associate Director of Faculty Development and Assessment, and as the program head for Disability Ministries. He has served families impacted by disability for over 30 years in local church and para-church ministry, and as a school counselor/therapist at a school for students with severe emotional, behavioral, and mental disabilities and those on the autism spectrum. He and his wife Karen have five biological children and have also adopted six children with special needs. They are active in the foster/adoptive and special needs communities as conference speakers, mentors, and cheerleaders for individuals, families, and churches who are working through how to best serve everyone.

Moody recently started a concentration that provides a biblical, theological, and practical foundation for equipping people to better serve those whose lives are impacted by disabilities from birth throughout their lives. An incredible team of individuals with backgrounds of serving those with disabilities from physical and occupational therapy, clinical mental health, various ministry settings, educational settings, and family involvement have collaborated to develop the four courses in this concentration so that people taking the courses will have a variety of perspectives infused throughout their studies. We have also worked with consultants from other national and international disability ministries to make sure that the courses address the needs that are being reported from those with various disabilities. These courses are available to both degree seeking and non-degree seeking students.