The Edge of the Inside
Matthew 4:12 Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee.
4:13 He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali,
4:14 so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
4:15 "Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles
4:16 the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned."
A couple of Sundays ago, the lectionary brought us to the gospel of Matthew and something that I may have been guilty of missing. In the week leading up to our Sunday gathering I was studying about the text and caught a historical piece that I may have heard but never seemed to matter much. We see that Jesus left from Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali. Thankfully the lectionary this did the heavy lifting for me and included, as one of its texts, the portion of Isaiah that Matthew is referencing. I think I usually hear the names in these stories and have a general sense of their location but I don’t think much about their history or even their geographic significance. You see, this region lies to the north and Jerusalem far to the south. It couldn’t really be further from Jerusalem in many different ways. It is referred to as Galilee of the nations or Galilee of the Gentiles. This is not the land of the practicing Jew but is made up of many on the religious outside. In addition, those from this region would have a true historical sense of loss. When the kingdom was being invaded this is the region that would have been attacked, enslaved and killed first. There is nothing that will show you how far you are from the true center of power than to be distant from Jerusalem as you are seeing your land and people destroyed. So when Jesus says “the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light”, I think the people from this region really get it. Their families come from the region of the shadow of death. What’s significant to me is that this is where Jesus starts from. I have been to the church planting conferences, read the books, heard the podcasts. This is not church planting as much of the western world has known it. Even if you happen to plant on the outskirts, morally and geographically, you do it only with the power and blessing of those on the inside. But, you see, Jesus doesn’t do that. He doesn’t kiss the ring first and receive the blessing of the religious elite. He just sets up shop on the edge of the inside.
Richard Rohr has some interesting things to say about this space that he calls “the edge of the inside”.
“The edge of things is a liminal space—a very sacred place where guardian angels are especially available and needed. The edge is a holy place or, as the Celts called it, “a thin place” and you have to be taught how to live there. To take your position on the spiritual edge of things is to learn how to move safely in and out, back and forth, across and return. It is a prophetic position, not a rebellious or antisocial one. When you live on the edge of anything, with respect and honor
(and this is crucial!), you are in a very auspicious and advantageous position. You are free from its central seductions, but also free to hear its core message in very new and creative ways. When you are at the center of something, you usually confuse the essentials with the non-essentials, and get tied down by trivia, loyalty tests, and job security. Not much truth can happen there.”
Jesus avoids the impulse to be centralized in the religious epicenter of the time. He knew that with the power the system could afford he would be bogged down by the very challenges he received on the road during his ministry. Considering that Jesus’ ministry was one that would lead to the inclusion of Gentiles, he had to be in a location that would spiritually, physically and theologically allow him the freedom to pass back and forth from the inside to the outside. That space can not be the center of all things religious.
It is a difficult space to inhabit. You often find yourself challenged and rejected by those who may consider themselves to be outsiders, which is ok because you begin to understand the hurt that comes along with being told you are outside. You also feel the sting of being told yourself that you are something other than a “believer”. You are called a rabble-rouser, a complainer or everyone’s favorite, a heretic. Yet, this is the space that Jesus occupied. Why do we find our church structures and religious gatherings, shaped in complete opposite ways? The institution of church often is centralizing power. The churches who send missionaries, plant churches and determine acceptable orthodoxy, are often those at the very center of the religious system. People who are “saved” on the edge of the inside are brought closer to the center where they can be reprogrammed and repackaged to be sent out again. Continuing the cycle of spiritual cloning. You can’t learn from those outside of yourself in that kind of system. There’s no room for it and it has the risk of infecting the whole system. What I think we forget though is that Jesus does eventually head into the eye of the storm but it isn’t to bring his followers with him. He enters into the epicenter of the religious institution, the seat of Roman occupation and power to expose it for what it is.
The challenge, for me, of being on the edge of the inside is remembering that you actually have to be on the inside to more effectively protest the institution. Jesus knows the institutions and even respects them for what they have given us. For the most part I can identify with that. I grew up in the institution, learned the verses, know the traditions and the order of worship but I am having a hard time staying on the inside. There is a constant dance of owning the heritage and celebrating it for what it has given me but also calling the church to something greater. I respect my elders even as I find myself being disappointed in their new allegiances with political power. In the end, I may still walk into the center of the church and feel the only path forward is to burn it all down but, I’ll still get licked by its flames and weep over its demise. If I only hurtle criticisms from a distance, then who am I to claim a desire to co-labor in the rebuilding? I guess I’ll have to keep learning this dance that is, being on the edge of the inside.