Pub Theology Recap January 5

 

Great night at the pub last night.  Nine of us grabbed a pint and settled in for a good discussion, huddled around the table as if seeking respite from the snow drifts just outside.

Jesus and Mohammed

A. showed up, who promptly styled himself ‘kinda the local guru.’ Then quickly thought better of it and shifted to ‘kinda the local guy.’ He’d been reading up on the history of Islam and noted to us that “Mohammed had to work hard.  He fought with people, he had enemies, he bled.  He worked to establish a religion.  Unlike Jesus.  Jesus didn’t have much opposition.  He had it easy, just healing people and floating on the water.  Mohammed though, man… that guy…”

I asked him if he had converted to Islam, with this newfound admiration of the prophet (PBUH).  He said no.

After that little soliloquy we hit the sheet. First question, “Do you have any New Year’s resolutions?”  Most people admitted that they did not.  R. said that she often takes the New Year as a time to take stock of where things are in her life and seek to continue to grow both personally and professionally.  I noted that I sort of do the same.  N. (who brought the pretzels) noted that her son always resolves to give up crack cocaine.  That way he never fails to live up to his resolution.

We spent some time discussing why resolutions tend to be individual (we can’t make anyone else do something), but also noted the benefits of making resolutions with someone else or with a community of some sort (accountability, mutuality).  We wondered about a couple in a relationship making resolutions.  S. noted that she sort of does that with her husband, but that then they tend to pursue the resolutions individually, or each in their own way.  Yet there is something about a communal effort that can create energy and certainly can hold one to what one has said.  The other S. noted that companies and organizations often do the same thing but call them ‘goals’ or ‘plans.’

Then the question (contributed by C., who was down in Kzoo doing PT South) was: “Should Pub Theology have a 2012 resolution?”  At this point the question of location came up, with RBB’s upcoming move to 16th Street.  We had heard that the pub portion of the new location was not going to be as big a priority, so it is unclear whether there will be adequate space.  There is talk of something new coming into the Warehouse district to take RB’s place, perhaps Short’s or someone else.  It would be tempting to stay.  Another possibility is the new Filling Station brewery coming in by the library.  In any case, Pub Theology resolves to keep meeting (wherever we end up) and being the place in Northern Michigan for beer, conversation, and God.

Topic 2: “Individualism is a poor container for the Gospel.”

This was generally agreed, as S. (with the glasses) noted that “We can’t all play a solo at the same time.”  The other S. (reading glasses) noted that individualism tends to cause people to apprehend what they believe is true about the world and why, rather than take someone else’s word for it, or simply buying into the community’s agreed upon take, and tends to cause people to move away from faith, so yes, it is a poor container for the gospel.  B. highlighted the fact that Christianity is not meant to be an individualistic faith.  It is not simply ‘my spirituality’ or ‘me and Jesus.’  Rather, it is meant to be experienced in community, lived out in community, and that when a group of people together take following Jesus seriously, and live into the Gospel, and live out the Gospel, that it is a powerful statement to those looking on.  R. worried that such a focus on community would drown out people’s ability to be individuals.  That there would be space for the ‘other’, whether that is someone divorced, or gay, or recovering, or whatever.  B. noted that ideally the Gospel is inclusive and calls for a community that is open. Such a community ought to reflect the diversity of individuals who all come together because of who God is and because he has made and called each of them.  It was concluded that there is such a thing as good individualism, and good communalism, but that both can go awry if we are not careful.

Topic 3: “In light of the 2012 end of time idea, do you think the redemption of Christ will come in this world — or does it require a new world?”

S. noted that there were 3 billion people on the planet when he was born, and there are now over 7 billion.  R. (who refuses resolutions) noted that “The world will end.”  B. asked, “Who here thinks they will live to see the end?”  Most people said no.   But then N. (who was back at long last! and brought the chips) blurted out, “What are y’all talking about?”

As the rest of the table continued to debate the end of the world, I got up to get another pint.  This time a Dark Squirrel Lager.

The last three questions all sort of related:

4. What would have to happen for the believer not to believe?

5. What would have to happen for the unbeliever to believe?

6. Is theology (or what kind of theology is) compatible with belief in the constancy of nature?

I don’t have time (or the recall) to give you the rest of the conversation.

But a few highlights:

R. asked, “Why does it say unbeliever?  Shouldn’t it be nonbeliever?  What does unbeliever mean?”

N. (chips) pleaded, “Damn it!  Call it Spirit, energy, essence, whatever!  We all believe in it.”

N. (pretzels) noted, “It’s time to start preaching the stuff we’ve known for 200 years.” (referring to biblical scholarship that is often known about by seminaries and preachers but kept from the congregation because ‘they’re not ready for it’.)

And a couple more from the ‘local guru’:

“I think about time differently than most people.”

“Are any of you communists?” (This out of nowhere, in the middle of a completely unrelated discussion)

“Do you think it’s better to show weakness, or to hide weakness?”

And that’s a wrap!  If you were there and care to fill us in on more of what happened, feel free.  If you weren’t there, but have any thoughts on the above topics – post them below!

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Pub Theology 2012!

Our first gathering of the year is tonight!

Here’s a sneak-peak at what’s on the sheet:


1.    Do you have any New Year’s resolutions?
Why is it that they tend to be individual?
What would a communal resolution look like?
Should PT have a 2012 resolution?

2.  “Individualism is a poor container for the Gospel.”

3.  In light of the 2012 end of time idea, do you think the redemption of Christ will come in this world — or does it require a new world?

4.  What would have to happen for the believer *not* to believe?

5.  What would have to happen for the unbeliever *to* believe?

6.  
Is theology (or what kind of theology is) compatible with belief in the constancy of nature?

Can’t make it out?  Post your thoughts below.

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Emmanuel | Christmas Day

by Frederick Buechner:

 

Christmas is not just Mr. Pickwick dancing a reel with the old lady at Dingley Dell or Scrooge waking up the next morning a changed man. It is not just the spirit of giving abroad in the land with a white beard and reindeer. It is not just the most famous birthday of them all and not just the annual reaffirmation of Peace on Earth that it is often reduced to so that people of many faiths or no faith can exchange Christmas cards without a qualm.

 

On the contrary, if you do not hear in the message of Christmas something that must strike some as blasphemy and others as sheer fantasy, the chances are you have not heard the message for what it is. Emmanuel is the message in a nutshell. Emmanuel, which is Hebrew for “God with us.” That’s where the problem lies.

 

The claim that Christianity makes for Christmas is that at a particular time and place “the high and lofty One who inhabits eternity” came to be with us himself. When Quirinius was governor of Syria, in a town called Bethlehem, a child was born who, beyond the power of anyone to account for, was the high and lofty One made low and helpless. The One whom none can look upon and live is delivered in a stable under the soft, indifferent gaze of cattle. The Father of all mercies puts himself at our mercy. Year after year the ancient tale of what happened is told raw, preposterous, and holy — and year after year the world in some measure stops to listen.

 

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. A dream as old as time. If it is true, it is the chief of all truths. If it is not true, it is of all truths the one that people would most have be true if they could make it so.

 

Maybe it is that longing to have it be true that is at the bottom even of the whole vast Christmas industry the tons of cards and presents and fancy food, the plastic figures kneeling on the floodlit lawns of poorly attended churches. The world speaks of holy things in the only language it knows, which is a worldly language.

 

Emmanuel. We all must decide for ourselves whether it is true. Certainly the grounds on which to dismiss it are not hard to find. Christmas is commercialism. It is a pain in the neck. It is sentimentality.

 

It is wishful thinking. The shepherds. The star. The three wise men. Make believe.

 

Yet it is never as easy to get rid of as all this makes it sound. To dismiss Christmas is for most of us to dismiss part of ourselves. It is to dismiss one of the most fragile yet enduring visions of our own childhood and of the child that continues to exist in all of us. The sense of mystery and wonderment. The sense that on this one day each year two plus two adds up not to four but to a million.

 

What keeps the wild hope of Christmas alive year after year in a world notorious for dashing all hopes is the haunting dream that the child who was born that day may yet be born again even in us.

 

Emmanuel. Emmanuel.

 

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Three Cheers | A Christmas Eve Reflection

From Robert Farrar Capon:

Advent is the church’s annual celebration of the silliness (from selig, which is German for “blessed”) of salvation. The whole thing really is a divine lark. God has fudged everything in our favour: without shame or fear we rejoice to behold his appearing. Yes, there is dirt under the divine Deliverer’s fingernails. But no, it isn’t any different from all the other dirt of history. The main thing is, he’s got the package and we’ve got the trust: Lo, he comes with clouds descending. Alleluia, and three cheers.

What we are watching for is a party. And that party is not just down the street making up its mind when to come to us. It is already hiding in our basement, banging on our steam pipes, and laughing its way up our cellar stairs. The unknown day and hour of its finally bursting into the kitchen and roistering its way through the whole house is not dreadful; it is all part of the divine lark of grace.

God is not our mother-in-law, coming to see whether her wedding-present china has been chipped. He is funny Old Uncle with a salami under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other. We do indeed need to watch for him; but only because it would be such a pity to miss all the fun.

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Afterwards | An Advent Poem

Mystery. Paraclete. God’s particular dance with the ordinary.

Usually, in the great 15th century paintings, shown as the dove.

You have to look up to see it, above the angel. Mary, sees only

the angel, holds fast the gaze of the extraordinary. It’s love,

 

the lover that hovers high. Waiting. Does it know the answer

she will give to the angel? Can it read already the intricacies

of the human heart? Or does it have to wait to hear from her?

Each wing beat a forever until she said “Let it be.” Afterwards

 

the world resumed its normal orbit – there, for a hearts beat,

it had tilted closer to the sun – the moon had wavered. All of

the old loyalties had felt the shudder, felt the blow in the feet

and up to the belly. No one divined the nature of the disturbance

 

but her. The one whose belly now housed the Word, a universe.

This world, now different , the Spirit, taken, made utterly human.

Word translated in a womb to the language we would dismiss or

read as truly fantastic, thrum of miracle in the blood of a woman.

Richard Osler

Advent | 2007

 

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Confessions of a Postconservative

I recently started reading Roger Olson’s book Reformed and Always Reforming: The Postconservative Approach to Evangelical Theology.  But then, I suppose I start reading a lot of books.  Finishing is another matter.

In the introduction, he references a 1974 book by Jack Rogers, then a Fuller Theological Seminary professor.

“Conservative” is a good word.  It marks continuity with the past, preservation of enduring values, holding on to what has been proven with time.  In this sense I am still a conservative.  I want to “hold fast to what is good” (1 Thess 5:21).

There is another sense in which the word “conservative” is used.  The dictionary defines “conservative” as “tending to favor the preservation of the existing order and to regard proposals for change with distrust.”  Being conservative in that sense leads to conservatism.  That is the sense of being conservative which has marked much of my past.  That is the sense of being conservative which I want to put behind me.  That is the sense of being conservative which confuses Christianity with our culture.  Salvation is not found in the status quo.  From apostlic times Christians have challenged the existing order.”

Rogers’ book was originally supposed to be titled: Confessions of a Postconservative Evangelical.  Apparently the publishers felt that was too provocative.  It was published as: Confessions of a Conservative Evangelical.  He was just ahead of his time.

Olson notes that the original title seems more appropriate, given the content of the book.  He begins his own book, mentioned earlier, with this statement:  ”The thesis of this book is simple but controversial:  it is possible to be more evangelical by being less conservative.

I just picked the book up, so I’m not far into it, but the beginnings prove promising.

What do you think?  

Do you resonate with either Olson’s or Rogers’ statements?

There are certainly ways in which I am conservative, in some of the ways Rogers suggests.  I think it is impossible to be a parent and be otherwise.  But there are also deep and profound ways in which the conservatism in which I was raised has had to give way to a more progressive outlook on theology, politics, and society.  How did this happen?  One of the biggest influences has been simply reading the Bible and studying the text.  As a recent Christianity Today poll noted:  ”Frequent Bible reading can turn you  liberal.”  Who would have thought?

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What are those rich 99%ers complaining about?

Those wealthy protesters

The above picture, and many variations of it, have been floating around the internet.  It is both helpful and unhelpful.

Yes, many (or even most) of the protestors are in good position relative to many others in our world.  But it must be asked – why are people in developing nations in the position they are in?

Many poor farmers around the world have been doomed to poverty by the trade policies of the US and other Western nations.  Four West African countries–Burkina Faso, Mall, Chad, and Benin–have called on the United States to cut the $1-3 billion it spends each year subsidizing American cotton growers, which then allows them to undercut the market for the rest of the world’s cotton farmers.

The World Policy Journal notes:

The protectionist policies of rich countries are indeed a serious issue for Africa, where farming accounts for about 70 percent of total employment and is the main source of income for the vast majority of those living in or near poverty. The 30 member countries of the OECD spend a combined $235 billion per year to support their agricultural producers, but only about $60 billion on foreign aid (about one-fifth of which goes to Africa). Subsidies, tariffs, and nontariff barriers distort global prices and restrict access to rich-country markets.

The global trading system discriminates against the world’s poorest nations, making their products less competitive and undermining opportunities for growth, employment, and, ultimately, economic and social development. Additionally, intransigence on the part of rich countries over agricultural reform also indirectly harms poor countries due to its effects on broader trade negotiations. According to one estimate, unimpeded global trade would boost developing country income by about $200 billion a year in the long term.

The New York Times, for example, argues that African farmers are “rightfully outraged that a nation [the United States] that enjoys all the benefits of open markets for its industrial products keeps putting up walls around its farmers.”

Many people say again and again the free market system is the best there is.  Perhaps.  But it is interesting that the market is actually free only when it benefits us.  If it appears otherwise, we are quick to make it a closed market, or rig the system in our favor.

Additionally, Organizations like the IMF and the World Bank conspire to get developing nations so deep in debt that they are in a hole they can never get out of, while we then condescendingly show up with charitable aid to help them, while never working to change the system which impoverished them in the first place.

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, millions of people have died in brutal civil wars led by warlords who are fighting over resources they can sell to Western corporations to make our iPhones and what-have-you.  We do nothing, because it benefits us to have them fight over who gets to sell us their minerals (and other resources).

Places where we do get involved militarily are often because our access to such resources (particularly oil) are jeopardized.   (Let alone the fact that war itself is an incredible profit-making system for Western companies who lobby for rich government contracts).

We have a system which feeds off the resources and people around the world so that we can live in the society we do.  A system in which wealthy elites manipulate the laws at the expense of the majority of this country as well as the rest of the world.

In his book, Not Sure, CRC pastor John Suk notes:

Even a brief review of history makes it clear that so-called Christian nations have never had a great track record when it comes to ministering to the “least of these,” whether they were colonial subjects in Indonesia or India, or the slaves they traded in the Atlantic triangle, or the poor farmers around the world that Western nations have doomed to poverty by their protectionist agricultural trade policies.

…Western nations that have militarily occupied Haiti for generations, that have robbed Haiti of its wealth while protecting the interests of their Western corporations, that supported repressive dictators in the interest of stability while self-righteously and hypocritically declaring allegiance to human rights and democracy – these Western nations are delivering massive amounts of disaster relief to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake.  Unfortunately, it is a case of far too little, too late, to effect the lasting change that might one day help Haiti achieve even a modicum of prosperity and peace.  When it comes to the least of these, Western nations seem to have a habit of beating them to within an inch of their lives, and then shaking their heads in disbelief and disgust while binding their wounds.

The fallacy that this photo perpetuates is that protesters are out there only because of their own situation.  The protest is not primarily about any one single person’s situation!  It is about a system – the system that helps create the starving realities in many nations – the same system that perpetuates corruption in our own.  People are protesting on behalf of people like the hungry people in the above photo, as well as the people living at subsistence level (or worse) in our own.

It is absurd to suggest that we should not protest these abuses until we are as poor as the rest of the world.  In fact, speaking out might even be the Christ-like thing to do.

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Common Sense Jesus?

Some fun in light of a recent politician’s statement about Jesus:

“For over 2,000 years the world has tried hard to erase the memory of the perfect conservative, and His principles of compassion, caring and common sense.”

What do you think?  Did Jesus have an uncommon amount of common sense?

Consider the following from the site Common Sense Jesus:


and finally:

What do you think?  Was Jesus all about ‘common sense’?

I tend to agree with this blogger:

I’m pretty sure Jesus’s principles were anything but common sense. In fact, in my recollection, they were the complete opposite. The story of the Gospel is Jesus openly challenging the prevailing norms, social structures, and power dynamics of his day and turning them on their heads with a radical message of humility, non-violence, selflessness and faith in the seemingly impossible.


But what do I know?  I have been accused of lacking common sense myself.

Post your thoughts below!

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Why I’m Joining the Occupation

McLaren:  ”I’m in, and would encourage others to join the occupation. Not as a representative of your church or denomination, but as a human being, who is there to contribute and to learn.”

By Brian McLaren, October 19, 2011


Originally posted at Patheos.com

I never would have chosen the name “Occupy” to brand a movement. “The 99 Percent Movement” works a lot better for me. But I’m glad I didn’t get to choose, because I notice the term “occupy” is kind of growing on me.

What I don’t like about it: it sounds aggressive, like the (to me) ugly and unacceptable language of “taking back the country.” For a movement to avoid violent actions, it needs to avoid violent rhetoric as well, as Jesus made clear in the Sermon on the Mount. And deeper than rhetoric, it needs to be careful with the narratives it taps into. A case in point: “taking back” (to me) walks the line of a revenge narrative, implying that the country used to be “ours” and “they” took it away. That scenario is problematic for a number of reasons, so I’d rather steer clear of that kind of thinking—and language—entirely.

A term like “occupy,” then, must not be employed unadvisedly or lightly. Its strength must be tempered and its potential downsides managed. And so far, that seems to be happening (here in the U.S., at least).

Even in Traverse City

I was thinking about all this last Saturday while I was participating in the local occupation. About 300 of us walked down the sidewalk on both sides of our little town’s main street (we wouldn’t all fit on one side). Occasionally some chanting broke out, but for most of the time, we marched in silence; I would use words like reverent and pregnant to describe it. (One observer described it as “charged with secret extremity and transcendence.”)

As we walked along, I kept thinking about Jesus’ use of the term “kingdom of God.” I’ve been fascinated by the term for a while now, devoting a whole book to it in 2006 (and then revisiting it in a 2008 release). Like “occupy,” kingdom of God was a dangerous term for a nonviolent movement. It borrowed the language of the Roman empire whose pax was maintained by slavery, militarism, public torture, and frequent executions (i.e., crucifixion). It was overtly provocative—bursting out of the private sphere of spirituality into the public world of kings, lords, and laws. It threw down a gauntlet before the powers that be, challenging their legitimacy with a higher authority.

If I had been around, I would have counseled Jesus’ against using the term.

Once again, I’m glad I wasn’t consulted. It’s rather obvious now that Jesus knew what he was doing. “The occupation of God has begun” might inspire the same fear and hope among people today as “the Kingdom of God is at hand” inspired in the first century.

The term “occupy” is winning me over because it puts an ironic spin on one of our most questionable national habits—occupying other nations: occupying Iraq, occupying Afghanistan, supporting Israel in occupying Palestine. Like kingdom of God, it turns that familiar language on its head.

The term “occupy” is also winning me over because it’s about presence, making our presence known and felt in public spaces. These public spaces—from economic markets to political processes—have been colonized by powerful corporate elites (the 1 percent, or maybe the 10 percent), elites driven not by an ethical vision but by the relentless demand to maximize shareholder return. The 99 percent are realizing how destructive this colonization of public spaces has become, and by simply coming back—by re-inhabiting public spaces—we are demonstrating that we see what’s happening and we are not going to tacitly comply with its continuing.

After our local occupation last Saturday, a smaller group of us stayed around to hold an informal planning meeting. It was a good process . . . and reminded me of how different grassroots democracy looks when compared to public politics. Demonizing and vilifying the person you’re sitting next to—it won’t play. Neither will dominating and filibustering or attempting a “live” impromptu version of political attack ads. Learning to differ firmly and graciously, acknowledging the concerns of an alternate viewpoint, searching for common ground, asking for clarification rather than assuming the worst possible interpretation, agreeing to seek greater understanding through honest private conversation after the public gathering . . . these are among the skills and virtues needed to make grassroots democracy work. They are seldom demonstrated or even valued among our political elites. Could that tell us something about why the Occupy movement is needed?

Nobody knows how the movement will play out. Lots of folks will wait on the sidelines and maybe dip their toes in later on. But I’m in, and I would encourage others to join the occupation. I’d especially encourage Christian leaders to do so . . . not as a representative of your church or denomination, but as a human being . . . not to co-opt or control, but to contribute and to learn. As someone who’s had a lot of control (more than I realized) for a lot of years, I’m finding it a wonderful gift to simply be a participant, one voice among many, learning and listening and learning some more.

Brian D. McLarenBrian D. McLaren is an author, speaker, activist, and public theologian. A former college English teacher and pastor, he is an ecumenical global networker among innovative Christian leaders. Among McLaren’s more prominent writings are A New Kind of Christian (2001), A Generous Orthodoxy (2006), Everything Must Change (2009), and A New Kind of Christianity (2010). His lastest book, Naked Spirituality, offers “simple, doable, and durable” practices to help people deepen their life with God.

The Pub Theologian resonates with much of what McLaren writes, do you? 

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Jesus at Occupy Wall Street

(Article by Lisa Miller, reposted from the Washington Post’s On Faith section)

Occupy Jerusalem?

LEON NEAL/AFP/GETTY IMAGES - A man dressed as Jesus sits amongst other protestors holding placards on the steps of Saint Paul's cathedral in central London on October 15, 2011 as part of the now-global Occupy Wall Street protests.

Born with little means into a first-century world, the historical Jesus might feel right at home with the very aspects of the occupation that so many 21st century observers consider gross: the tents, the damp sleeping bags, the communal kitchen. Jesus would have sympathy, I think, with the campers’ efforts to keep a small space sanitary in the absence of modern plumbing.
It was about nine in the morning, and some of the park’s inhabitants were just waking up. Scruffy, tattooed, abundantly bearded, these protesters looked not at all like the bright, shiny vanguard of a new, idealistic American left. What would Jesus think of the occupiers themselves, who have been derided by their opponents as a ragtag group of tax evaders, interested only in sex, drugs, and rock and roll? In the flesh, their unsavory appearance can make the heart of even the most convicted lefty hesitate before embracing their cause.

The Jesus of history would love them all. What Jesus really said, and what he meant, are the subjects of culture’s greatest controversies, but one thing is sure. Jesus gave preferential treatment to society’s outcasts. Lepers, tax collectors, prostitutes — all would attain heaven before the ordained elites. Jesus believed that God was about to right the world’s wrongs with a great upheaval – soon – and at that time, a radical reversal of the social order would occur. As he says in the gospels, “the meek will inherit the earth.”

Jesus would have sympathy, too, with the occupiers’ first complaint: that in America, the poorest have too little and the richest, too much.In first-century Judea, a powerful ruling class held nearly all the wealth and most people lived at subsistence levels.“Jesus believed the whole system was corrupt,” says Bart Ehrman, a professor of religious studies at the University of North Carolina. “The people who ran things were empowered by the evil forces of the world and his followers had to work against these powers by feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, and caring for the sick.”  Jesus had a fit when he saw the money changers in the Temple, and turned over their tables – a dramatization, Ehrman says, of the reversal that was imminent.

If he settled for a while in Zuccotti Park, Jesus might find himself disappointed in the fractious, secular nature of it all. For Jesus, the first thing – the only thing, really — was God. His ministry was an effort to help guide people toward a kind of moral perfection before the coming of the Kingdom of God.Thus, he might have sympathy for the various causes espoused by the campers (health care for all, no more bailouts, tax the rich, get the money out of politics, cap executive pay). But he would be frustrated by the protesters’ inability to name America’s much bigger dysfunction: our inability to get our moral priorities straight and care for our neighbors who need our help.

The protesters don’t talk much about Jesus or God. Nor do they offer explicit guidance on transcendent, higher principles. It’s easy, therefore, to complain, as the Iranian writer Sohrab Ahmari did in the Huffington Post earlier this month, that they’re morally unserious. The protesters can come across as childish whiners screaming “It’s not fair,” without offering a unified or collective moral vision.

A lesson from Jesus might show them that they have moral authority within their grasp – only it won’t be conveyed through banners or sound bites. Their most radical act is the company they keep. Jesus instructed his followers to be like little children. Only by emulating and caring for the “least of these” would they inherit heaven.

In Zuccotti Park and other Occupy sites, the temporarily unemployed stand shoulder to shoulder with the truly homeless; the media-savvy organizers lie down with the whacked-out babblers. The unsavory aspect of this group is its greatest asset. Every time a powerful person denigrates the occupiers; every time a member of the established elite takes a swipe at them from on high (as George Will did in this newspaper), the occupiers’ moral authority is re-affirmed when they stand together.

If the Jesus of history could wander the precincts held by the occupiers, “he’d see his people,” says Marisa Egerstrom, a graduate student at Harvard who organized a posse of chaplains to volunteer at Occupy sites. “I think he would be pretty pleased.”

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