A witness to what faith can be By Tom Krattenmaker
Mon Dec 18, 8:08 AM ET USA TODAY

PORTLAND, Ore. - Something radical is happening every Friday night where homeless people congregate downtown under the Burnside Bridge.

Car- and vanloads of Christian volunteers swoop in with sleeping bags and coats to protect their dispossessed friends against the raw, wet weather that has moved in. They dispense hot meals and set up stations for shaves and haircuts. While a few pull out guitars and strike up their Jesus-themed songs, a small number of the volunteers commit one of the more audacious acts of compassion and humility I have ever witnessed: They wash the homeless people's feet.

Four folding chairs are set up in a row, each occupied by a downtrodden human being, his or her bare feet immersed in a tub of warm water. In front of each, kneeling on a pad, a volunteer gently scrubs away. Drying and powdering follow before the recipients are sent on their way, their feet clean and dry and swathed in a fresh pair of socks.

The spirit of the season? This is it.

"I can't find the words to describe how good that felt," one beneficiary says as he moves off, smiling broadly.

The night I observed this ritual, perhaps 100 homeless women and men were on hand, as well as a similar number of volunteers, deployed by an inter-denominational evangelical organization called Bridgetown Ministries. For more than three years, the group has been performing "Night Strike," in addition to other programs aimed at serving disadvantaged youth and Portland's less fortunate. Their motto, as printed on the T-shirt worn by ministry leader Marshall Snider, captures the ministry's philosophy in five simple words: "Get out of the box."

A biblical act

Washing the feet of society's outcasts might be as far out of the box as you can get. This work has practical importance, of course; people who can't keep their feet clean and dry end up suffering extreme discomfort or worse. But there's more to it than that. What Bridgetown Ministries does on Friday nights is highly biblical.

Jesus, in the Gospel of Matthew, talks about "the least of these," as in, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for (God)." Ministry leader Snider had invoked that very passage while preparing the volunteers back at ministry headquarters earlier in the evening. "When you go out there tonight," Snider told them, "I want you to look for Jesus. You might see him in the eyes of a drunk person, a homeless person."

Feet-washing has resonance with a revealing New Testament passage. In Luke, a woman "who had lived a sinful life" washes Jesus' feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair and pours perfume on them, upsetting the self-righteous Pharisee who is hosting Jesus and who finds the woman unworthy of Jesus' company. Jesus praises the woman for her faith and forgives her sins.

Then there are the sheer logistics: Washing someone's feet is an act best performed while kneeling. Given the washer's position, and the unpleasant appearance and odor of a homeless person's feet, it's hard to imagine an act more humbling.

Looking for Jesus in the eyes of a homeless person. Contrast that with a different, and decidedly less inspiring, face of faith more often on display in the media and public square. Leaders of the Christian Right continue to scapegoat gays and lesbians and emphasize other wedge issues, with little to say publicly about the "least of these," unless they happen to be as-yet unborn. A notorious, high-profile few seize disasters such as Hurricane Katrina not to emphasize compassion but to suggest that the victims in some sense had it coming because of their sinful ways. The unfortunate tendency is hardly confined to Christianity. In Iraq, religious differences are fueling rising levels of bloodshed between Shiite and Sunni Muslims. Civilians are being killed by the hundreds - in the name of religion?

These ugly, destructive appearances of religion make it tempting to accept the arguments of atheist writers such as Sam Harris, who asserts that religious faith has become a dangerous force that must be eradicated if the world is to overcome its violent divisions and intractable problems. Harris writes in his recent book Letter to a Christian Nation that only when Christianity, Judaism and Islam are relics of the past "will we stand a chance of healing the deepest and most dangerous fractures in our world."

If Harris were attacking fundamentalism rather than the broad sweep of monotheistic religion, I'd be with him 100%. But it's hard to indict all religion when you see the way faith manifests under the Burnside Bridge. The features of hard-edged Christianity that many find repellant - condemnation, exclusivity, belligerence - are absent at Night Strike. Bridgetown Ministries and its dozens of volunteers aren't vetting the moral worthiness of the homeless people whose hair they cut, bodies they clothe and feet they wash. They know some might be drunk and some on drugs. Are they homeless because they're lazy? Do they deserve this care? The questions are utterly irrelevant from the perspective of the ministry's radical compassion. As Snider puts it, "We're just out there to love on people."

If only we could see this form of faith more often in our highly charged public arena. No doubt, the bad name borne by Christianity in some quarters is partly the fault of the media for highlighting conflict and inflammatory rhetoric and for shying away from the thousands of acts of Christian decency all around us. But most of the blame must be laid at the feet of the loudest and most visible champions of the Christian Right. Are those who project the divisive and arrogant side of religion willing to kneel down and cleanse the feet of the homeless?

What the world could be

Perhaps what happens Friday nights under the Burnside Bridge can be a reminder. While the fighting over religion drags on, let's remember that many, many people around the world - some who count themselves among the true believers, some who don't - are living up to the religious ideal. They're helping the needy, feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, even washing their feet.

My hope for Christmas is that the radical love of people such as Marshall Snider comes to be known as the true and predominant expression of religious faith - and that it infects our whole society, people religious and otherwise. Imagine the changes that might come about if that were to happen. Imagine what the world might then become.

Tom Krattenmaker, who lives in Portland, Ore., specializes in religion in public life and is a member of USA TODAY's board of contributors. He is working on a book about the Christianization of professional sports.

About thirty-three years ago Tom Harpur, at the time the religion editor for the Toronto Star (Toronto, Ontario, Canada) undertook an unusual journey. He retraced the steps of Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem. The biblical account tells the story in very succinct terms:

"In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child." (The Gospel of St. Luke 1:1-5)

Reading this account by Dr. Luke in today's travel experience is a bit like saying, "Ron and his wife, June, drove up to Tucson (Arizona) this afternoon from Phoenix."

Except we need to remember several things:

1. Joseph and Mary were not driving a vehicle capable of driving the distance between Nazareth and Bethlehem in comfort. They were, at best, riding a donkey. We are driving a comfortable vehicle.

2. Joseph and Mary would have taken over a week to walk from Nazareth to Bethlehem. When Tom Harpur retraced the steps of the holy couple, it took him about 10 days. June and I make the trip to Tucson in about one and a half hours.

3. The path from Nazareth is rocky, uneven and filled with treacherous weeds and animals. The road to Tucson is paved.

4. There were no creature comforts on the path. There were no Holiday Inns, no comfortable rest stops, no restaurants. Mary and Joseph would either have taken food along or would have tried to find food from locals along the way. We will get to Tucson before we need to worry about a meal.

5. There were dangerous people along the path who would have been lying in wait for travelers who were making the pilgrimage to Bethlehem to fulfill the requirement of Governor Quirinius order to be counted in the rolls. We travel with relative security of knowing that the road is well-policed by the AZ Department of Public Safety.

6. The path is not only uneven, it is not level. Nazareth lies in a basin. The first challenge Joseph and Mary faced was to get out of the basin - a climb of about 500 feet. As they proceeded south, on the third or fourth day of their journey, the couple would have encountered the Ascent of Lebanon, a climb of several hundred feet. Since the trail would have taken a number of ups and downs it is likely that the elevation changes would have been equivalent to over 1,000 feet. Tucson is about 1,000 feet higher in elevation than Phoenix - and we are driving on a paved road!

7. On top of all of these challenges, Mary is pregnant! She is pregnant with God's gift for the world! If the robbers and bandits along the way knew the true nature of her inner package, what harm might have come to her? As we know her babe was in more danger from kings and governors than from robbers and bandits. Maybe that is still true!

It is tempting to paint the original Christmas story in terms of our modern experience. All the sanitizing by our culture will not cover up the challenges this young couple faced in their journey to the manger!

The first Christmas was a dangerous trip to a manger in Bethlehem. I would suggest that because who was born in that manger in that First Christmas, the trip today is equally as dangerous.

(By the way, the only parallel between the trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem and the modern trip from Phoenix to Tucson is the distance: 90 miles.)

(c) 2007 Ronald Friesen

Check out this story!

As man was walking through the forest one day he thought he heard a freight train. The noise was deafening! Then he noticed deer, rabbits, foxes and other wildlife running toward him. What was this noise? Why were the animals in the forest running past him? Then he saw it - a giant forest fire was on its way toward him. He looked down and saw an ant hill. "Oh, no," he thought. These ants are all going to die! He yelled at the ants. He stomped his feet! He yelled louder! He tried everything humanly possible to get those ants to understand that they needed to scurry to safety. Then he realized the problem - he couldn't talk ant language. He couldn't get these ants to understand the danger. Then it dawned on him! He would have to become an ant if he was going to help those ants survive!

The parable is true - if God is going to get the human race to understand its dilemma and going to convince the human race how much God loves these people then God would have to become one of them. The story of the first Christmas is the story about how God decides to become one of the human race. God dresses himself in human flesh and lives on this earth. This is why God said to Joseph, the husband of Mary, the mother of Jesus, his name shall be called, "Emmanuel" which means "God with us."

This is what makes Christmas dangerous. You see, if you accept the story of a baby born in Bethlehem - a baby who grows to be an adult who says to the world "I am one with the Father and whatever the Father says I do" - then you have to decide if this is God come in the flesh.

And if you say, "Yes", then you have to decide what you are going to do with all the other things Jesus taught and did.

Be careful when you come to the manger this Christmas. It is dangerous.

2007 (c) Ronald Friesen

When people discuss their geneologies, there is an old line that goes something like this, "I wonder if there are any horse thieves in the bunch." The idea is that most people have someone in their family tree who brings some discredit to the family name. In my family tree there are several people who had some severe drinking issues over the years.

The Christmas story as it is presented on TV or in popular stories santitizes Jesus. About the only individual in the story who is made out to be the bad guy is the innkeeper. Remember - 'there was no room in the inn'? Ah, that guy - what a scrooge he was - here is a young woman who is about to deliver her first child and he turns her away!! What a scoundrel!

But the truth is Jesus' family tree contains prostitutes, adulterers, liars and others. It's right there in the geneology recorded in the first chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. The most famous lady is Rahab, the prostitute, who is said to the be great-great grandmother of King David. Of course, King David was no saint. St. Matthew notes that David was the father of Solomon, 'whose mother had been Uriah's wife'. King David set up Uriah to be killed in battle so he, King David, could have Uriah's wife, Bathsheba, as his wife! (King David had already committed adultery with her at this point.)

Here is where Christmas gets dangerous. We want to sanitize Christmas. We want the story to be clean. We need innocent heroes. We need Jesus to be better than us. We want to look up to him and see him as someone on a pedestal. We don't want a Jesus who is like us! If he is better than us, if he is perfect and innocent, we can keep him on the shelf or in the ceramic stable on the mantle.

But if his family tree is like ours - if it means that he is like us - then we have to deal with who he really is.

Maybe God did come into the world and tasted humanity in all its dregs and horrors and evils. Maybe Christmas is dangerous.

(c)2006 Ronald Friesen

One of the most famous parts of the Christmas story is what is called, "The Magnificat." The Magnificat is a the poem which Mary spoke upon hearing her cousin, Elizabeth, tell her that she, Elizabeth, is to give birth to a son.

Mary responds to this news by sharing with Elizabeth a poem which tells Elizabeth the significance of the child Mary is bearing. The name for the poem derives from the first line of the poem, 'My soul maginifies the Lord'.

The poem contains these rather unsettling lines (Luke 1:52-53):

"He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty."

The baby, Mary bears in her womb, will become the one who turns the world upside down.

The powerful are dethroned; the humble are elevated.
The hungry are feed; the rich are left empty-handed.

Of course, almost entire ministry of Jesus of Nazareth focused on the poor, the blind, the crippled, and the oppressed. Jesus said the well didn't need a physican, but those who who were 'diseased' in the eyes of the community needed his attention.

In our society, who get the press? Who is seen on the society pages? Who gets their own show on TV? The rich, the famous, the actor, the actress, the mulitimillionaire sports star of the week, the politician.

Jesus came for the little guy, for the unnoticed, for the lonely kid sitting on the curb, for the disadvantaged, the disabled, the ignored. For Jesus these are the people who matter.
In Jesus' kingdom, in the world he rules, these people are put in first place. These people displace the rich, the famous, the powerful.

If you're in the first crowd, those who get the press - be aware - you are about to lose your place!

If you're in the second crowd, those who are ignored - be aware - there is good news for you! You are about to get promoted!

2006 (c) Ronald Friesen