Radical Commitments to Radical Community (Week 41, Jun 4)
Readings
Leviticus 25:8–55
Isaiah 61
Acts 2:42–47; 4:32–37
Silent Reflection
Remarks
Radical is an interesting word.
As somebody who was born in the early 80s, grew up with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and wore Hammer Pants of many neon colors, the word radical has meant many things to me. Edgy slang. Cartoon catchphrase. Awesome fashion.
As others have pointed out, the term shares an etymological lineage with the word radish (a despised root vegetable of my 80s childhood years). To be radical, then, is to be rooted. While we often use it in reference to people who are “out there” on the fringes, the term actually refers to somebody who is deeply rooted in what is true—what has been around for a long time. Despite our common misunderstanding that to be radical is to be on the fringes, it’s actually nearer to the core. Radical is something old, not something new.
I have no doubt that a true practice of our faith, one that really stuck close to our faith’s “roots,” would be seen as largely fanatical in our culture today. These ancient followers of Jesus were so committed to each other that they were willing to give up anything for others. They sold their possessions, shared their wealth, gave their time, and made the thriving of their neighbor their number one priority. They regularly sacrificed comfort, privilege, power, and leisure for no reason other than to bless others. And not only that—they counted it as pure joy to do so.
One example noted by more than one historian is the practice of “love feasts.” Apparently, early believers would gather for feasts where they celebrated the belonging of all people from all socioeconomic realities and sought to make sure the Kingdom was realized by and in everyone present. Before anyone would eat, they would make sure everyone’s needs were met.
Not enough food? We’ll be covering the groceries.
Nowhere to stay? You may stay with us for as long as you need.
Your mother is sick? We’ll help share the load of caring for her.
Only when all the needs of the room were met would anybody take a bite of food. Often this celebration came with the practice of “breaking bread.” While this term has obvious connections to the celebration of the Eucharist for early Jesus followers, the expression also predates that practice and has more political overtones and understanding. Since the days of Caesar Augustus, the emperors would often practice what was called “bread and circus,” where the imperial representatives would come through your city providing free bread and other resources. They did this to make a statement that the empire is providing for you and taking care of you.
To word it another way: Caesar is bringing us peace.
But most saw this for the sham that it was, and these early believers took bread and “broke” it, making a statement that Caesar does not provide for our needs, God does—through us, to each other.
You see, these early believers came proclaiming a gospel not merely with their words, but with their lives. This was an announcement of a new King and a new Kingdom. And if there was a new King, that meant it wasn’t Caesar. And if there was a new Kingdom, that meant it wasn’t Rome. It meant there was a new order, a new economy, a new reality bursting forth in the midst of this Roman one.
But this experience could only have happened if these early believers were committed to a different value system with different priorities. This pronouncement would be empty if it wasn’t accompanied by a different practice. Jesus the Bread of Life was made real in the bread breaking at early Christian love feasts. His love was truly experienced when his followers chose to live out a new narrative—one not built on self-preservation, one that did not step on others to advance. This new Kingdom ran on the fuel of self-sacrifice and a lifting up of those found below us.
And this was good news.
Silent Reflection
Response
Consider practicing your own “love feast” as a group. Have a meal, but before you eat, make sure everyone’s needs are met. At first, this can be uncomfortable because we have been taught to feel shame at exposing our needs. After that, it can feel tricky as we have to evaluate what real and true “needs” are before we share. Once we start to share, this can be unbelievably overwhelming—medical bills, late rent, therapy appointments, child care… How can we address all these needs? Yet, whenever I’ve been in similar spaces, the people of God have never failed to come through and have enough. Consider giving it a shot with your own group and then thinking critically and discussing what the exercise evokes in you as individuals and a group.