Immediately after the devastation of the First World War, Quakers distributed food and clothing to the impoverished people of Poland. One relief worker who had served a variety of villages, suddenly contracted typhus and died within 24 hours. Only Roman Catholic cemeteries existed and canonical law forbade burying anyone not of that confession in consecrated ground. Therefore, they buried their cherished missionary friend in a grave just outside the cemetery. The next morning, however, it was discovered that the villagers had moved the fence during the night so that the cemetery now included the grave.
This community of Polish fence movers embodies an enacted parable for our time. Defying outdated dogmas that denied the true reality of their faith and friendship, these Roman Catholic laity redrew the boundaries defining whom to include or exclude. Their story illuminates and illustrates the challenge facing the mission of the church as we seek globally to move fences and destroy walls that divide and alienate the human community in its spiritual quest for God and for justice, peace, and the integrity of creation.
An incident from the civil rights struggle in Selma, Alabama, shows the essentiality of conversion for mission & ministry. A large crowd of black and white activists outside Ebenezer Baptist Church became quite angry when they heard reports of serious injuries to demonstrators in Montgomery. Across the street stood Sheriff Jim Clark, who symbolised the oppressive police forces of the state and city. Sensing what might happen if the crowd became more restive, a young African American preacher grabbed a microphone, shouting out that "It's time we sang a song."
Lifting his voice, he sang, "Do you love Jesus?" to which the crowd responded "Certainly, certainly, certainly Lord." Then, the pastor recited a litany of the leaders of the non-violent movement, calling Martin Luther King, Jr., and the others by name. Each time the demonstrators, warming to the song, sang loudly, "Certainly, certainly, certainly Lord." Then suddenly, the preacher sang again. "Do you love Jim Clark" – the sheriff?" "Cer… certainly, Lord," came the stunned reply. "Do you love Jim Clark?" the preacher sang again. "Certainly, Lord," came the reply, only this time a bit stronger. "Do you love Jim Clark?" the preacher asked again. By this time, he had made the point and the protestors' voices rang out "Certainly, certainly, certainly Lord." Taking the microphone, Reverend James Bevel reminded everyone that "We are not just fighting for our rights, but for the good of the whole society. It's not enough to defeat Jim Clark – do you hear me, Jim? – we want you converted!"
When William R Persons formally retired from the pastoral ministry, his wife spoke on his behalf since he had suffered for the previous seven years from Alzheimer's disease and had moved beyond the realm of ordinary discourse. Mildred Persons traced the joys of their earlier ministry and spoke of the grandeur of climbing some of their career summits. But then she recounted the ugly pain of slowly discovering Alzheimers and what it felt like to become nonpersons, losing stature and status in the church and community. Instead of being involved and influential in matters, they were marginalised and on the periphery of power.
At that point, however, she paused and in a very poignant moment said:
"But, the Iliff School of Theology was the one exception. The Board of Trustees kept Bill as a member. He was sent all the materials. Another Trustee picked him up and took him to every meeting, as long as he could physically attend. After one Trustee session, I asked him what happened. He replied, "I don't know, but Iliff still thinks I'm a people."
We usually think a conspiracy involves secret planning to do something wrong or unlawful. The Polish rescuers committed unlawful acts by the norms of the Church, but not by the standards of God. Their disobedience conspiracy was "illegal", but not wrong. They demonstrated what Pierre Teilhard de Chardin called a "conspiracy of love".
The vision of church members as conspirators applies not only to the drastic life and death social and political situations confronting the globe, but also to the personal and pastoral dimensions of mission.
Ironically, while I wrote this chapter, my family experienced what it means to the be focus of care by this conspiracy of goodness. My wife, Bonnie, suddenly was diagnosed as having a very large brain tumour, which required immediate surgery. As we rode a roller coaster of emotions over a period of weeks, we were sustained and strengthened by the "conspiracy of love" of which de Chardin spoke. We were overwhelmed by expressions of goodness and kindness from family, friends, students, professional colleagues, and church people from across the country. Reaching out to us, persons created an incredible chain of communication that literally encircled the earth. People we have never met wrote to say they were praying for her well-being. Her successful operation and complete recovery prompted us to sing the words of the old gospel hymn: "When nothing else could help, love lifted me."
At its best, the church responds as a conspiracy of goodness in the spirit and name of Christ to care for all persons and all of creation. Participating in deeds of kindness, justice and mercy means identifying with God's liberating and loving initiatives in the world.
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