You mention, of your
early days as a teenager, “we didn’t yet understand what it means to stick
around long enough to experience the fullness of how messy life is on the
margins.” Why was this such an important impression/lesson for you?
I think when you are young you have simplistic
solutions to everything. I also really believed that right beliefs would always
lead to right actions, and that if you are truly following God then everything
would be taken care of. As I got older, I saw how damaging that theology can be
(“if things go wrong then I must have done something bad and God is mad at
me.”) Now I really cling to the idea that Jesus is present with us in our
suffering, not that he promises to instantly deliver us from our life
circumstances.
You write about a nun, principal of a Catholic
school on Chicago’s south-side in the 1970s. When “white flight” left
neighborhoods mostly African-American, reflected in this school’s population.
One day she goes into each classroom and changes each crucifix that has a white
Jesus dying on the cross with a black one. A student asks her why she’s doing
this and she replies, “Well, we don’t know exactly what Jesus looked like, but
I am sure he looked more like you than he looked like me.” Why did this nun’s
actions stick out in your mind?
This story came from an episode of This American
Life I heard and to me it was such a good picture of how we have completely
made Jesus (and Christianity) into something that venerates and perpetuates the
myth that whiteness is the norm. But it’s not the norm, and Jesus certainly
wasn’t white (or culturally like the west, for that matter)! And as someone
trying to live like Jesus it became important for me to think about dismantling
all the white Jesus’ I had put up, without ever realizing it.
You write, “A refugee, for all intents and
purposes, is someone who has no past to go back to.” Why would understanding
this truth help us understand and empathize more with refugees and immigrants?
I primarily wanted to distinguish between immigrants
and refugees here, because I think many of us believe refugees want to be here,
they want to work our jobs, take our resources, etc. But it’s the opposite.
They want to live in their own countries, they want to raise their kids how
they themselves were raised, they want to be at peace in their own culture.
They have been forcibly removed through war and trauma and violence, and they
have no choice in where they are resettled. They didn’t choose to come to
America and take advantage of the mythical “dream.” They are the products of
suffering, and their life in America contains similar elements of sadness and
suffering, even though they might not be in the immediate threat of death
anymore. Hopefully this does give us empathy, and allow us to see them in a
larger, more complicated narrative than the ones being told to us by
politicians.
You mention that “the best way to humanize an
issue is to be involved in it.” How do you view today’s current level of
polarization in America, in light of this statement?
True proximity means becoming involved in the
suffering of others, to the point where you will never be truly at peace until
justice comes. Until we get to that point, issues are just issues we can either
ignore or dismiss or gloss over. I don’t really want to be a depolarizing force
in the world, because the language surrounding refugees and immigrants is
incredibly dehumanizing and deserves to be confronted. But I am interested in
imagining ways to get people in proximity to those who are suffering at the
margins of America.
There’s a story you relate of a mom who comes to
an English class you’re teaching and one of your students, Nadifa, says
something in Somali then hurriedly leaves, very distraught. One of the other
students translates that Nadifa forgot to give one of her kids anti-seizure
medication. The student goes on to explain that Nadifa’s husband just left her
and she has five kids. The students begin to say “Alhamdulillah!” (meaning, “It
is God’s will.”) You tell your students “No, no, NO Alhamdulillah!” How would
you answer the question, What is God’s will?
I think the simplest answer is God’s will is for
the kingdom of heaven to be here on earth. The kingdom of God is made plain by
Jesus, who in his sermon on the mount shows us that it is the exact opposite to
the ways of the world. Living with Muslims has shown me how similar some of my
own beliefs are to theirs--that since God is in control, God must be ok with
suffering and sadness. But I don’t believe that! In the movie Selma
Martin Luther King, Jr. tells a man who just had his grandson shot in
cold blood by the police that “God is the first to cry.” What a beautiful
theology. A God who suffers with us, not one who bestows suffering at will.
God’s will is that we would all know how beloved we are, and that we would love
our neighbors in the same way.
You write: “God also loves the oppressors, the
abusers… the gluttons and the cowards.” Why is this so hard to believe?
I’m a pretty black-and-white person, so this one
is hard for me--but it’s the truth of the gospel! No one is a monster in the
kingdom of God. There is always a chance for repentance, for change, to write
the wrongs that you have done. The people in the Bible were absolutely
terrible. And God still loved them with an everlasting love, just like he
loves me, how he loves ISIS, how he loves Christians who commit terrorist
attacks here in America. This doesn’t mean we can’t stand up to evil and
oppression but it brings us back to the central point that everyone is made in the
image of God, and no one escapes the love of God.
How about “God loves everybody, exactly the
same. No matter what you do.” I don’t remember hearing this as a kid growing
up!
Isn’t that sad? I definitely grew up hearing
that God loved me but I also picked up the subtleties that weren’t exactly said
aloud--that God really loves people who do amazing things, who work
hard, who get results. But as I said in my book, absorbing the hierarchies that
religions create led me to the place where I was using my work in refugee
communities to prop myself up, to make me appear better before the eyes of God.
This meant that I was using my friends and neighbors. This was a crushing
realization, but led me to a better place: there is nothing I can do to earn
the love of God. To be honest, I still struggle with this concept. I still
don’t quite believe it. But I am trying.
“He (God) is asking us to run, run in the
direction of the world’s brokenness. Is this the crux of Christianity, the
essence of God?
I think it is a good way of viewing the life and
work of Jesus. He was obsessed with really dangerous people--both the demon
possessed and the sick and also the powerful religious folk who he knew wanted
to kill him. There are so many kinds of brokenness, and Jesus seemed to find it
all irresistible, because he was in the business of liberating people. I want
to believe more in this liberating, all-consuming love, and just like Jesus I
have discovered it in the margins of society.
I love your description of King David. That the
“man after God’s heart” was also an adulterer, murderer and terrible parent.
David showed his humanity and the fullness of his ability to take everything to
God. Would you like to elaborate?
David is such an interesting example. I actually
originally wrote that David was a rapist (because he was, if you think about
the power differentials--was Bathsheba even able to say no? Most likely not).
He is such a problematic person. He did terrible damage and suffered enormous
consequences. But through his psalms we discover the pathway to a relationship
with God, which is authenticity. God wants us, not our religious words or ways.
If we are hiding who we are, the fullness of our broken selves, then we aren’t
actually in relationship with God, and we can’t be transformed by the love of
God.
The example of King David sort of goes along
with what you write later in your book. “To be the one in need. It confirms
that this is quite possibly the only posture that Christians in this day and
age can take, to be in a place where we freely admit our shortcomings, where we
desperately need our neighbors.” How does taking this outlook help us be better
followers of Jesus?
It’s hard not to make comparisons between my
community (white evangelical Christians) and the religious folks in the
gospels. The Pharisees and others were so obsessed with their own holiness and
right beliefs that they walked away from every encounter with Jesus without being
liberated. Who were the ones who are the faithful of the gospels? The needy
ones--either physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They are the ones to whom
the good news of Jesus is actually good, and I want to be in this category so
badly.
How about “Everything Jesus said is true, not
just the parts I want to believe.” What parts of what Jesus said do you find
hard to fathom?
This is such a big question! I guess the big one
would be forgiveness--how vital it is to our spiritual health. But forgiveness
is so hard, especially in such an unjust world. And yet, this is what Jesus
calls me to. Same thing with his call to love our enemies, and live lives of
self-sacrifice for our neighbors. All of this is incredibly difficult in
practice (although it’s easy to talk about!).
Is there anything else
you’d like to mention?
I’ve been working on a
few big articles and one or two essays, but currently my life is very full
between taking care of small children, hanging out with my neighbors, teaching
English classes, and helping start a nonprofit aimed at welcoming immigrants
and refugees in the Portland area. Thanks so much for these thoughtful
questions--I hope it sparks some discussion.
To find D.L.Mayfield on the web
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