Dan Schmitz with wife Jan and their son Peter
By the time I arrived in Oakland, California, a question had grown in me that I now sought to address more directly: what makes evangelicals tick? Having grown up Catholic and returned to the Catholic Church by way of Buddhism, the differences between my self-identity as a Catholic Christian—from how I read the Bible, to how I pray, understand the nature of Christian community, tradition, authority—seemed strikingly different in many respects from the evangelical Christians I was meeting. While I may have known about these differences on paper, I still found myself somewhat disoriented in my actual encounters with evangelicals and evangelical communities. At the same time, I was aware that there were profound shifts taking place in the evangelical ethos that underlie these community movements; I’m merely swimming along the surface of currents whose depth and breadth I could only dimly infer. And the most curious aspect of these shifts, from my perspective, is that they’re prodding evangelicals, especially young evangelicals, to mine the riches of the pre-Reformation tradition, in search of a wisdom that can more thoroughly address their aspirations and challenges today. Hence, wanting to deepen my own understanding in these respects and learn to better situate myself in the growing overlap between evangelical intentional communities and the classic monastic tradition, I spent some time sharing in the lives of and learning from the kindhearted, generous folks of New Hope Covenant Church in the Lower San Antonio District of Oakland.
The beginnings of New Hope strike themes I’ve heard several times thus far (see for instance Debbie Gish of Church of the Sojourners): a youthful immersion into the whirlwind of urban ministry leads to an aspiration for a more sustainable way of life in community, but the resources and models needed to bring this aspiration to fruition aren’t close at hand. Dan’s insertion into this story begins with his affiliating with Harbor House Ministries in East Oakland and moving into Oak Park Apartments in 1989, inhabited primarily by poverty-stricken Cambodian refugees and Latino immigrants. His intention was to live in a local equivalent to the overseas urban slum conditions he anticipated encountering though foreign mission work. Soon joined by others, especially young Christians associated with InterVarsity, the budding community found themselves deeply enmeshed in the often chaotic lives and overwhelming needs of their neighbors, including organizing a successful lawsuit against the building’s negligent owner. Rather than go overseas as originally intended, however, Dan chose to remain among these neighbors he learned to relate to as family, participating in the shaping of this community of mission-minded Christians into the multiethnic, socioeconomically diverse New Hope Covenant Church, of which he is the present acting pastor. Given the lessons he’s learned helping to birth this new model of church from such unformed beginnings, Dan recognizes some of the challenges faced by evangelical leaders and communities in light of radically changing social and cultural conditions. As a response, he presently focuses much of his energies on leadership development and formation as interim chair of The Mosaic Center of the Pacific Southwest Conference of the Evangelical Covenant Church.
Dr. Joan Jie-eun Jeung prays during a Sunday service at New Hope Covenant Church. Photo © 2010 Lacy Atkins / San Francisco Chronicle
In our conversation, Dan and I discuss how the complexities of our increasingly religiously and culturally pluralist “post-Christian” world challenge evangelical theology and spirituality to adopt more holistic perspectives. In contexts where a basic Judeo-Christian framework can no longer be assumed, the good news of salvation must be expressed through a living witness of rooted commitment, living side by side with the poor and marginalized and sharing their struggles. This in turn requires processes of formation that impart a deeper understanding of social, historical, and economic issues across cultures, and practices that can integrate this learning within one’s own self-awareness and spiritual development. How am I connected to the exploitation of migrant farm workers? How has the church been implicated in racist attitudes and practices, and how must I repent and change in response? What presumptions and privileges must I divest myself of in order to live in solidarity with the poor? How do the Bible narratives reflect God’s ongoing concern with structural injustice and oppression, and where am I situated in that story? An adequate formation for contexts like that encountered in Oak Park must prepare leaders to ask and respond to these kinds of questions, for themselves and their congregants.
Another element that makes Dan’s perspective unique is his Catholic upbringing in a Franciscan parish. And while he now serves as an evangelical pastor, in his own words he never “protested” his Catholic origins; rather, he has sought to integrate in his own life and ministry the values and strengths of both worlds. Hence, he’s right at home among evangelicals now eagerly learning from “Catholic” figures such as Ignatius of Loyola, Francis of Assisi, Benedict of Nursia, Antony the Great and the early desert abbas and ammas. As well, in thinking about new models for evangelical churches that incorporate the kind of changes we discuss, Dan looks to the Catholic orders and their ability to diversify and incorporate people in varying lifestyles and degrees of intensity of commitment, such as the three Franciscan orders: Order of Friars (celibate men), Order of Saint Clare (celibate women), and the Third Order (inclusive of lay people, married and otherwise). His larger hope? That this integrative impulse and drawing on the whole Christian tradition helps facilitate the healing and unification of the Body of Christ, the Church.
My heartfelt gratitude to all in the New Hope community who welcomed me, fed me, gave me a bed or couch upon which to lay my head, played games with me, drank, laughed, prayed, shared enlightening conversations, and all-in-all made me feel right at home.
Into/Outro music “He Prabhu” by Fr. Cyprian Consiglio, OSB Cam., and John Pennington, from Compassionate and Wise.
Thanks to Julian for his insightful and appreciative description of New Hope, and with real ecumenical sensitivity. Julian writes: “And the most curious aspect of these shifts, from my perspective, is that they’re prodding evangelicals, especially young evangelicals, to mine the riches of the pre-Reformation tradition.” For some of us that might not be so terribly curious, since most Protestants acknowledge that the pre-reform Christian churches were not bereft of Christ’s presence and inspiration, he fulfilling his promise: I am with you always, till the end of the age.” And for our part, as more “traditional monastic” communities explore their ongoing journeys, they can be energized by the vitality and ministries of evangelical communities like New Hope, also in their real commitment to social justice and helping those in need. One fascinating aspect of history is that Christian communal monasticism was birthed forth way back in the early fourth century through Christian communal social ministry! The young Pachomius, “father of communal monasticism” an unwilling conscript of the army, was held in an Egyptian prison distant from his home when he was astonished by the generous charity of Christians who came to the prison to provide bread and food to the captives. He wondered: Why on earth do they bother? They don’t know us, we are not related, not even of their village here. Pachomius learned that they were Christians, moved by Christian charity; and so he consequently became a Christian, and went on to conceive and launch a form of monastic life not eremitical but communal, based on the Apostolic community’s koinonia, of mutual love and service, as are Evangelical communities. The two forms of Christian community share so much, most especially Christ and the Gospel, and can share much more, it seems to me.
Robert
Thanks, Robert. Correct me if I’m wrong, though, but didn’t Pachomius first try his hand doing “social ministry” with a local church, and then came to the realization that what made monks distinctive was that they DIDN’T engage in such activities? Hence, he withdrew into the desert. Of course, this wasn’t his new idea but one already floating in the ethos of the time. This is why I’ve thought of Pachomius as one who drew a line in the sand, so to speak, affirming that (as a rule) a monk is one who is not “socially engaged,” as we might say today. Of course, the on-the-ground reality was much less clear, but the emerging at least regional definition of a monk seems to take as its point of departure a literal, physical withdrawal from the affairs of the world. This is integral to Cassian’s understanding, as well. Still, it’s curious how monasticism in the West today, including Buddhist monasticism, tends toward greater social engagement, and New Hope, while not part of the “new monasticism” movement per se, reflects this trajectory.
Thanks for yours. I was leaning on words by Fr. Columba Stewart, O.S.B. (who sends you greetings!) who was just here giving us four conferences, and he was referring to the first moment of conversion of Pachomius–that moment carrying him into Christianity as inspired by the group of charitable Christians visiting him and the others in prison with food, etc. This also noted in the “Bohairic Life of Pachomius” (p. 27 of the “Pachomian Koinonia” volume I”. And Fr. Columba stressed that that same kind of charity and mutual service Pachomius then wanted lived within his numerous monasteries. To what extent the “separation from the world” theme was central to Pachomian monasticism, I just don’t know. You may well be right. But he continued to invoke that early experience very positively to the monks.
Our own Camaldoli (about to enjoy its 1000th anniversary) was built quite intentionally on a roadway connecting two main cities, and was a center for pilgrims, and a major hospital and pharmacy for people in the surrounding area, I was taught. And we also heard of earlier Benedictine schools, hospices, outreach to the poor etc. But again I’m not an expert here.
Rushing off to Eucharist,
Robert
Yes, I recognize that the Benedictine and Camaldolese houses, et al, became hubs of social services in time. I was thinking specifically of the Egyptian 4th century context. I just remember being taken aback a bit when I read of what prompted Pachomius’ own decision to enter the desert (though granted the specific details elude me now). In any case, the message was clear: monks and social ministry don’t mix (though relations in the monastery are ordered around mutual charity, including hospitality to visitors). Of course, this doesn’t apply in all times and places.
I was actually quite impressed with Rob Bell’s efforts at “prodding evangelicals to mine the riches of the pre-Reformation tradition” in Love Wins. I’d recommend it if you haven’t read it – an easy read but really solid theologically.
Thanks for the suggestion, Julia. Coming from you, I’ll take it to heart. Of course, this is the book at the center of a firestorm of controversy over, as far as I can tell, whether God wills the mass of humanity to hell or not. I’ve read only some of the commentary on the book, and my impression has been that his basic theses wouldn’t be terribly controversial in Catholic circles. In fact, he seems to be in the lineage of Julian of Norwich, who insisted that there’s no wrath in God, that Jesus came to quench our wrath not God’s, that love was his meaning, and that in the end, in a manner we can’t comprehend, all shall be made well. In a nutshell, love wins.
Hi Julian.
Nice to hear about your experience at the New Hope Church. In my world, love also wins.
I attended a Christmas concert last Saturday, that combined choirs of three local Christian churches, and was very much “gospel” or “evangelical” in spirit. Attending and participating were people of various ages, races, color, cultures, and religious traditions including Buddhist. A real coming together and celebrating as one in the spirit. One of the pastors made the comment that we do well to celebrate our commonality, rather than focus on our differences. I say ” amen, brother!”
Wishing you all the best, Laurene