Showing posts with label Sara Miles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sara Miles. Show all posts

Monday, April 05, 2010

Sara Miles – Jesus Freak

Cover of Sara Miles - Jesus Freak

Sara Miles is back. A review copy of her new book Jesus Freak arrived through my front door a couple of weeks ago and is now on sale in the UK. Her first book Take This Bread got top-billing in my Best Books of 2007 round-up post with

its challenge to the religiosity of many Christian denominations, and the formula that congregations follow along with her experience as a chef that intertwines food and bodies as she looks at the ideas of the sacrament of communion alongside running a food pantry (all on the same altar table). Well worth a read, even if it is uncomfortable in places and you don’t agree with all her theology – there’s no harm in being forced to defend or revise your beliefs!

Miles continues to “sweep away the anxious formulas of religion” in her determination to transform others’ lives – as well as her own – by following what Jesus did: feeding strangers, loving and blessing those who have become like “non-people” in our communities.

“When Jesus enters into relationship with outcasts and shares in their social death, he starts a process of resurrection. The unclean become full, living people, born again. They are reincorporated – that is, re-bodied – into the community. And the community is healed into wholeness from separation, made new.

From the very moment of Jesus’ incarnation, God has been doing exactly this: restoring creation to order by entering a human body; staying with us in the darkest, sickest places; taking on social and finally physical death, so that we can all become one and rise from the dead.”

She brings readers back to the weekly food pantry at St Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco where tons of food are distributed from the church building, on and around the communion altar.

“… anywhere there’s food, spirit and matter intersect. And the power to feed – and particularly to share food with people outside your tribe – always has the potential to transform lives.”

Unlike much of the organised church, and in contrast to other food pantries Miles has visited, St Gregory’s isn’t hot on rules. It’s about inclusion, before it’s about exclusion. Drunks and junkies are welcome to volunteer as long as they aren’t high. It’s run by poor people, for poor people. “Russian and Greek Orthodox believers” as welcome to work as “Catholics, Hindus, atheists, Jews, Buddhists, agnostics, even an Episcopalian or two”.

“… anyone was welcome to jump in and start working. We were making a bet that what Jesus suggested was true: when you begin to expand your ideas of who the right people are, when you break down boundaries to share food with strangers, God shows up.”

Visitors to St Gregory’s insisted that their programme of giving food away must have required “a wonderful bishop, a lot of money, a better class of poor people, some mysterious kind of permission that allows you to be so cool and daring”. Which baffled Miles who asked

“What more permission do they need? ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ isn’t enough?”

I’m very struck by Miles’ observation that

“God’s economy is one of abundance, not scarcity. By giving away the things God has given us, by giving as profligately and unconditionally as God does, we receive everything we need. We’ll stay hungry if we eat alone. We’ll be lonely if we think we can only share fellowship with the right people … We’ll never feel truly fed if we’re constantly competing to get our share.”

It’s as if Christians need to stop defending themselves and their culture and their rights, and instead stand up for other people’s beliefs first. Fight for the rights of Muslims, for the rights of gays, for those who want to speak and be educated in Irish, for those who want to be unified or remain in union with a different state to your own religiopolitical preference. Stand up for those who so often are oppressed, and perhaps the world will begin to believe that Christianity is worth defending too.

It’s not all about the food pantry. There was the night spent cooking in the charity restaurant, where her menu ended with the words

“Bread & Wine: Free. Eat with Jesus at midnight. All welcome, no restrictions, nothing for sale.”

Miles has been applying her growing faith and ever-expanding list of unanswered questions to other areas of life.

Her experience of hospital chaplaincy is not one of “turning ordinary humans into miracle workers who say magic words over a sufferer and restore the sick to perfect health”. Prayer doesn’t cure, but it can bring about healing, particularly through becoming embedded in relationship with God and with other people.

“[Jesus] doesn’t show us how to make a blind man see, dry every tear, or even drive out all kinds of demons. But he shows us how to enter into a way of life in which the broken and sick pieces are held in love, and given meaning. In which strangers literally touch each other, and doing so make a community spacious enough for everyone. In which the deepest desires of our hearts draw us to health. Don’t be afraid, Jesus says: your faith will make you well.”

Having touched on feeding, healing, forgiving, Miles ends with a chapter on raising the dead. It centres around a terminally ill woman, Laura, her son Gabriel, and her friend Gloria. Gloria’s status as an illegal immigrant coupled with California’s Proposition 8 legislation would mean she’d be likely to struggle – legally – to look after Gabriel once Laura died. Society defines family by what it excludes.

Miles’ favourite chant from her 1970s days of demonstrating and civil action was

“Two, four, six, eight, smash the family, church and state.”

She goes on to explain:

“I had absolutely no idea, back then, that this was Jesus’ chant. That it would turn out to be such a fundamentally Christian thing to say. Smash the family – smash the relations of power between men and women, young and old. Smash the church – break the relations of power between an official priesthood and the people of God, between manipulators of mystery and its helpless objects. Smash the state – break the relations of power that owe their existence to official violence, destroy the armies of the empire, break the iron bars of the prison house.”

In the end, there was new life for Laura, Gabriel and Gloria.

It’s not a book that quotes the Bible every second sentence, but the principles it highlights clearly fall out of the Gospel narratives.

Sara Miles is unorthodox. She’s hands on and practical. She loves Jesus, and loves people. She doesn’t wait to find clarity and perfection in the mess of this world. She believes that God gives her all the permission she needs to feed, heal, forgive and resurrect people she meets.

“There’s often a moment when I’m hanging out with a group of Christians – usually liberal Christians, the kind who care about global warming and inclusive language – and I see them glance at me as if I’m a total freak. I’ve embarrassed them by talking too much about Jesus. As if he were real.”

“Ordinary people still hope, suspect, and believe they can be Jesus.”

Video excerpt below from Sara Miles speaking about her new book at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Take This Bread (Sara Miles)


If you’re looking for something to read that will challenge the religiosity of many Christian denominations, and the formula that congregations follow, then grasp Sara Miles’ book, Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion, firmly with both hands.
“... I walked into a church, ate a piece of bread, took a sip of wine. A routine Sunday activity for tens of millions of Americans—except that up until that moment I’d led a thoroughly secular life, at best indifferent to religion, more often appalled by its fundamentalist crusades. This was my first communion. It changed everything.”
To borrow from CS Lewis, Sara was “surprised by joy” when she was unexpectedly welcomed to participate in that first communion service at St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church in San Francisco.
“Jesus invites everyone to his table.”
Coming from a background as a chef and a journalist (with an interest in revolutionary war zones), she was gripped by the “food and bodies” that the sacrament united, and attracted to a faith offering “food without exception to the worthy and unworthy, the screwed-up and pious”.

It resonated with her experience as a journalist travelling through remote areas of El Salvador and South Africa: strangers, comrades and even enemies had offered her food. Everyone had hunger in common.
“There was the immediacy of communion at St Gregory’s, unmediated by altar rails, the raw physicality of that mystical meal. There was an invitation to jump in rather than official entrance requirements.”
Now open communion won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. St. Gregory’s isn’t entirely typical of all Episcopal parishes. But the effect of that inclusion is challenging as Sara explains what happened next.

Sara’s experience of Eucharist led her to petition St. Gregory’s to allow her to start up a weekly food pantry. But unlike other pantries across the Bay Area that required registration and social security numbers, everyone was invited to St. Gregory’s table. After all Jesus didn’t say “Feed my sheep after you check their ID”.

Taking food from the San Francisco Food Bank, a non-profit warehouse that collects surplus food—non-perishable goods and fresh produce—from growers, grocers and manufacturers, Sara’s team of helpers split it up between the 20, then 50, then 250 people who started coming once a week to the doors of the church.

Yet selling the idea of extending the open communion table from a Sunday morning to a Friday morning—using the same precious round communion table that had a loaf sitting on it at the weekend to hold staple goods for the pantry—had been an uphill struggle. Even as the pantry became a regular part of the church week, the number of helpers from outside St Gregory’s always far outnumbered her fellow parishioners who signed up to assist.

Another worshipper, a Jesuit priest, pointed out that Sara “was hardly the first person to get excited about Jesus, then disappointed in his church”. But Sara writes about the desperation that she felt:
“Echoing everything that was wrong with churches and church politics, repeating in microcosm the ugliness of Christianity through the ages, I started to fight fiercely with the people I was supposed to be in communion with, struggling to institutionalize my own dogma, and generally hounded people in the name of the Lord ... Hadn’t we announced that welcoming strangers was at the heart of our mission? How could people cling to their comforting, cozy services, rejecting changes and newness?”
Cries of too much change, and too little change, ring out through parish councils and church committee meetings. Does the Bible have anything proscriptive to say about the level of change that people should tolerate before complaining? I think the worked examples within tend towards people volunteering to undergo total transformation with little warning. That about covers it.

There’s a brief mention of the ordination of Gene Robinson. a seminary friend of Donald Schell, Sara’s priest. While her analysis of the conflict inside the Anglican Communion may not be extensive or complete ...
“It wasn’t just about gayness, of course, but a more fundamental conflict between believers who craved certainty and those who embraced ambiguity; those who insisted Scripture was inerrant and unchanging, given once and for all time, and those who believed that the Bible was only part of God’s continuing revolution.”
... but neatly sums up one slice through the current Anglican rift.

In all, it’s a fascinating book, documenting Sara’s spiritual and culinary journey. A book that challenges our reluctance to fully embrace social action. And at the same time, a book that asks a lot of questions about our well-worn, practised traditions and beliefs. Well worth a read.