“I celebrated my re-birth last night. Listen well, my re-birth! I invited a diverse group of people — simple, intellectual, neighbors,” shared "Josephine." (Among them was a couple from the Dijon church who invited her to the Noël worship/brunch.)
As people stood around munching and jawing after the Christmas celebration, I was introduced to "Josephine," “This is Paul the guitarist, our bluesman; he is a missionary.”
I really hate when people present me this way as it so often colors the conversation in somber hues (you will see why in a moment).
Josephine’s visage twisted from smile to grimace, “Ah, a missionary. Leave Africa to the Africans!” What I mistook for racism turned out to be anti-clericalism (a prevalent ideology in France).
“I knew missionaries when I lived in the Cameroon. They liked the young black girls. Those missionaries,” she spewed the word out of her mouth, “liked the pretty young girls a lot.” (A wry smile smoothed her facial contortions communicating the salacious and lascivious activity of these missionaries).
The Christmas conversation went on… “I agree with what the gentleman shared (an elder in the Dijon church had shared of man’s failings and need of a Savior as the significance of Noël), I just do not attend church.”
“Well, church attendance is not an obligation. I find it helpful to be part of a community where we encourage one another in the faith,” I commented. “Ah, but I am quite content living alone,” she clubbed.
“Where do I go from here?” I wondered.
“Do you ever read the Bible at home?” I thrust. “The Bible! It is open in my home all the time,” she parried. “That’s good. Do you ever read it?” I pursued. “No, why should I?” she countered. “It has quite a number of interesting things in it,” I advanced. “I help people, not too much you understand; one can be overbearing. I just do not need what is in there.”
I wanted to ask her how she knew that if she had never read it when she plowed on… “You never attended school with the sisters (Catholic nuns), did you?” as she tugged on her own ear miming winces. “No, I do not need that,” she asserted. (Note the assimilation of teaching and modeling with the content of Scripture.)
“So what do you as a missionary do?” Josephine queried. “I lead a pastoral team here in Europe. We…” She broke in, “What does that mean?” “We have people who…” I continued when she interrupted me forcefully, “Who sent you? Who is your boss?”
“Ultimately God and the Bible. The Protestant church* is not like the Roman Catholic church. We do not have a hierarchy,” I explained. “So you are set up like this, right?” she replied.
My explanation did not fit her plausibility structure; she processed none of what I had just said. Josephine began to lay out an organizational flow chart with folded napkins.
Hopefully, my voice did not betray my exasperation when I interrupted her artwork. “You do not understand. We Protestants are not like the Roman Church. Each church is autonomous. Yes, I went to seminary and teach as I go around, but I ultimately encourage people to read the Bible because each and every one of us has the responsibility and privilege of reading and interpreting it for her/himself.”
Touché ! The expression on her face showed that I had scored a point. She shifted by telling me of her past, death of her husband, her car accident, depression and how she was reborn through art. “I am now content in the morning, happy in the afternoon, satisfied in the evening. I have peace.”
“You said you believe what the gentleman shared this morning. Yes, peace is found in Jesus-Christ,” bringing things back to the essential.
“I have peace and am rich,” she plowed on, “not financially mind you. And I am glad you didn’t talk about money; no one passed the basket. Grrr, I detest when they do that… give, give, give. I am glad you didn’t ask for money.” Another point for our side.
“And my friends really enjoy coming here every week. They need the encouragement of your community. You are helping people in need. That is good.” A positive impression has been left. That too is good.
As I reflected on this talk with Josephine, had the actions and words of church people hardened, deafened and blinded her so that she could not read Scripture? Hmmm, a warning to Christians everywhere.
In any case, her comprehension of religion had led her to the decision to not read Scripture. Yet Jesus came so that the blind might see, that the deaf might hear, and to give hearts of flesh in place of hearts of stone.
This is the miracle of Christmas—religious and secular man twists; God straightens. Man hurts; God helps. Man is not only in darkness but creates it as well; God is light and Jesus is the light of the world. Joyeux Noël to one and all!
*When talking with people I often use the broadest possible categories to facilitate discussion rather than get side tracked by tangential questions of ecclesiology and convictions.
