Ephesus: They met on our behalf

What does it mean that more than four hundred bishops entered through this arch in the fifth century at what is known as the third ecumenical council? What does it mean that it is now the ruin, as is the rest of Ephesus where the remains of this church sit? Paul ministered in this city -- almost got killed here. He left Timothy in charge of a fledgling church that had to figure out what faithfulness to Christ meant in the context of pluralism. Later, those Bishops gathered from the known Christian world to hammer out some of the most basic doctrines of the church that we take as gospel. What does it mean that they marched through this arch? Though the buildings lie in ruins, the ideas continue to influence the very practice of our faith -- in ways most of us have no sense of. In other words, we stand on some ancient, Byzantine shoulders. Ideas have consequences. The extent to which I know anything at all about God is a gift from those that stood in this once vibrant church and deliberated on my behalf. They are the family I never knew, and now give thanks for.

The Library at Ephesus, once a wonder of the world. Now a fascade. Timothy had to frame his ministry in the shadow of the intellectual tradition it represented.

Did Paul and Timothy step on these very mosaic pieces? Their testimony endures and cries out, just as this pattern perseveres in the streets of the ancient city.

Commuting in Istanbul

The metro in Istanbul is close to Mexico City's, except it's above ground. You stand at the entrance of the train and PUSH to get in. Everybody exhales at once to make more room. This morning I bailed out. Just too crowded. That meant I payed 1.4 lira (about a dollar) to walk a mile or more to my destination -- the Kapa Carsi (Grand Bazar). Students arrive for the Istanbul portion of the course today and I knew I wouldn't have much of a chance to see the place. It is a vast, tangled, indoor bazar full of vendors and merchants, all of whom have a question for you. I paid far too much for the scarf and Ottoman design tapestry I bought, because I invariably start the bargain process with an offer too high. At least I gave them a good start to their day. I had limited time, but I stopped for a glass of orange juice squeezed in front of me. Shop keepers were setting up, and old men with white, Abraham Lincoln beards dressed in islamic hats and western suit coats pulled carts past my table, laden with goods. Their commute was more labored than mine. 

The ride back was easier. There was time and space to observe students on their way to Istanbul University, decked out in stylish, shiny head-coverings, sitting next to elderly women with more traditional, black chadoras, sitting next to business people in western dress. They all seemed comfortable with the differences -- secular muslim, conservative muslim, christian, young, old. 

The traffic out my window starts before 7am, and it is the honking, rumbling, yelling kind. The commute is an unhappy and impatient one. There is no AC where I am staying, so an open window is required, and I hear every engine, every brake in need of replacement, every police loudspeaker, every siren, and every horn.

Everyone is going somewhere. As they go, I want them to know that they are not anonymous. Jesus observes them more closely than I have, knows their name, and loves them. Here in the cradle of Orthodoxy, the birthplace of Christian worship, at one time the city (Byzantium) regarded as heaven on earth, I want them to meet their savior who commuted our way.

Peace in the Middle East, Please God.

In Amman: Someone Else's History?

I wish I knew my Biblical History better. I have read it any times -- references to the Ammonites, references to David's conquests in this ancient city, references to the Trans Jordan. But I just can't seem to remember it. Its because it is someone else's history, of course. Separated by time and culture I didn't live it. But now I am here in Amman, listening to a dear brother who is also the archbishop of the Armenian church in Iraq who has seen friends die and countless others leave, listening to a Palestinian Christian activist from the West Bank suffering the daily injustices of occupation and corruption, listening to a student worker from Beirut overcoming obstacle after obstacle for his love of students. And I find myself weeping at their lives, their courage, sometimes my country's complicity, and my disconnection from it all.

And because the hand has no right to say to the foot, "I have no need of you" I am listening with new ears. Their histories, their stories, have begun to merge with mine. Current history is being made on this Biblical earth and I cannot forget it.

Peace on the Middle East. Please, God.

Peace in the Middle East

Its a phrase my kids used to say when leaving the house. It was meant to be ironic, or cool, or random or something. Later they shortened it to "peace out." I never resonated with either. 

And now I am going there. I've been advised not to divulge publicly the countries in the Middle East to which I am headed. Better to not draw attention to the event there, endangering the Christian leaders I'll be with.  I will attend an event designed to help western Christians listen to Arab Christians who are struggling to maintain both their witness and frankly their literal presence in the shadow of Islam. Then from there I will fly to Turkey to help lead a Bakke class from Istanbul to Bucharest, looking at ancient Christian traditions that have survived through centuries of conquest, oppression and fragmentation to a place of quiet influence in the Arab world.

Listening to Eastern Christians? Studying ancient traditions? What does this have to do with Urban Ministry? Byzantium (Istanbul) was regarded as the New Jerusalem on earth and has shaped more of our historic and modern faith than most can imagine. The great Schism dividing the eastern and western churches began there. Monasticism began in its shadow, inspiring other forms that spread around the world. Literacy was saved by these movements during the dark ages, and our best spiritual writers come from these roots. The earliest urban ministers, Catholics like Dorothy Day and Protestants like Luther and Calvin, took their cue from the early Eastern saints that labored in the streets of Cairo and Alexandria, impacting not only individuals in need but also city systems.

Africans have a word that gets at why this trip is important. "Sankofa" -- it means looking backward in order to look ahead. What was learned in the womb of the ME through the first centuries of the church's history will certainly inform how kingdom people move ahead in the context of political Islam. It is naive to live without regard for the rest of the world, as if we were not interconnected in a thousand ways. We need to understand that crucial region. What is happening in the ME affects us here. If we are to avoid the cynicism of those who do not believe in a God powerful enough to bring peace, we need to go and taste, reflect on site, build relationships and make connections. And we need to convey hope to those who are there. They are not alone.

Please pray for the trip. 

Peace in the Middle East

Randy