The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
Sincerity in Friendship
Dear Irene,
*Sniff sniff* I've been having a bad bout of flu in the past couple of days... itching throat, stuffed nose, headaches, and a fever. Sniffing all the way. But the appetite remains intact.
I guess when you ask how we can distance ourselves from the "doing" and move towards "caring" in our relationships, you are asking how we can regulate the dynamics of our communities in a totally different way. Well, the ideal is of course to change everyone's mind about how things should be done, and get them to do it differently! But since when has that ever been possible?
I've by now more or less resigned myself to the reality that when human persons gather, they are bound to form rigid institutions to preserve the spirit of what was once a vibrant movement or renewal. And given time, it is that rigid institution itself that becomes the greatest stumbling block to the healthy perpetuation of that renewal. It seems to be that way with every single movement or renewal that has ever emerged in the history of the Church. So I have given up on the idea of seeking a new movement or a new renewal; it's a cycle that will just repeat itself.
So I guess it's no longer about getting the masses to change their mindsets. I look at my own little life and my own given little space and ask what I can do to contribute to the wellbeing of my friends, and how I can open my life up for them to contribute to my wellbeing (we should never be so presumptuous as to assume that others have nothing to contribute to our lives, right?) Using my own present experience as an example, let me share with you what I do now to try moving away from the doing mode towards the relational mode.
Here's the thing: I don't think I'm made to be a policy-maker. I'm a poor policy-maker because I'm too idealistic. So I'm probably never going to "rise" to a position of being able to change structures or abolish structures. I simply work within the boundaries of policies that are already set for me, and I work within existing institutionalised structures. That, to me, is a given. Because we abolish rigid structures only to discover that other rigid structures soon replace existing ones! How ironic but true.
As a seminary teacher, I have to abide by certain rules: 1) I have to lecture in class, which isn't my most preferred way of imparting a paradigm of life and faith; 2) I have to set and mark assignments, which isn't my most preferred way of gauging the effectiveness of my students' learning process; and 3) I have to study for a higher degree, which isn't my most preferred way of gauging the wisdom of a theological teacher. But I abide by these set policies and procedures.
But beyond all this, I seek to relate with my students in friendship. And I don't mean a superficial friendship. I seek to introduce them to an understanding of God's relational nature and how we should seek to embody that relational nature. And the only way I can impart this is to embody it myself; the medium is the message (Marshall McLuhan). So I seek to be a deep friend, and invite them to be my friends as well.
Just yesterday, a student (who isn't sitting in my class) asked me why he frequently sees me hanging out with my students in shorts and slippers. He said it's a sight seldom or never seen in the seminary. And so I explained my slipper theology to him. Theology is the language of friendship. Theology is a language that is spoken when friends come together to talk about God. If we're not trying to embody the relational nature of God, we have no business talking about God. So I believe that it is in the sharing of life together that real theology takes place. If I am to impart real theology, I must put on my shorts and slippers and open my life to the cultivation of friendships with my students.
Without friendship, I have no theology to speak about. All I have is an ivory-tower conjecture of what God must be like. There will be no collective experience of God's presence in community, or how God works to shape my life through relational agents that I call friends. The Christian faith has always been a communal faith.
But I also realise that opening up my life in this manner and allowing myself to be seen in shorts and slippers places me in a position of vulnerability. I am liable to be misunderstood, and sometimes threatened to be trampled upon or even betrayed. But this only helps me to understand the vulnerable position in which Jesus chose to place himself. Being the seminary lecturer who is seen in shorts and slippers with his students also makes me an odd person, because I am not behaving consistently with the stature that has been accorded to me. It makes people wonder who I am. And admittedly, it sometimes make me wonder who I am too. Or who I'm trying to be.
But it all makes sense in the instance that I hear a student tell me this: "You have not only trained my mind. You have also trained my heart." And I, in turn, am able to tell these students, "Friend, you too have trained my heart". And I realise that I no longer seek to change institutions or established policies. I seek to change myself. That's my ridiculous slipper theology. How about yours?
To friendship!
Sherman
P/S. While the rest of the Christian world seems so fixated on a DaVinci Code busting mania, we're talking about friendship and slipper theology. We must be so out of frequency. And oh, the Gospel of Judas! Are we missing something here?! Hello?!