Some years ago I participated in a Buddhist exorcism ceremony in Northern Thailand. Participants in the course I was leading -- senior government officials from the Mekong Delta countries -- became convinced that the residential institute where we lived and learned was infested with ghosts. It didn't help that it was the time in the Buddhist calendar when departed spirits were said to revisit the place of their departure. The Thai staff mentioned that 40 people had died in a building fire on this site, and the human remains had simply been buried with what remained of the building. So, it was apparently natural that the ghosts would return here. But things got really bad when a Laos official reported that a woman crashed through his room's ceiling and lay down in his bed beside him. When he tried to embrace her, she disappeared.
"That's strange", said a Cambodian official, "I had a similar experience." A woman walked through his room's locked, solid door. She continued to walk toward his bed, even though she had no legs. She sat on the end of his bed, conversed with him briefly, and then disappeared. After the initial reports of ghosts and these two authoritative, face-to-face experiences, the Institute was in uproar and classes were almost impossible. I had been out with the class the night before and considered the amount of alcohol consumed to be a reasonable explanation -- the students were 'legless', not just the ghost. And the other noises were probably wild cats. Nevertheless, something had to be done.
And done it was. A Buddhist priest and three monks were summoned to exorcise the ghosts, and a Ministry of Foreign Affairs advisor instructed me that my participation in this ceremony was imperative for demonstrating cultural sensitivity. What this involved was kneeling before a Buddhist altar and before the priests and monks for nearly two hours while they chanted and prayed and transferred energy up and down a string attached to the altar. Officials with cameras were reveling in a PR bonanza.
While kneeling I could think of only two things -- one, the concrete floor with linoleum square tiles, and, two, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego's witness (Daniel 3:16-18). They were willing to risk death in such circumstances, and I wasn't even willing to risk offending someone.
So, why am I telling you this story? It illustrates the "Salt Principle" in Jesus' instructions to His disciples (Matt 5:13-16). We are the salt of the earth, and salt permeates. As salt, we enter into the life and culture of the people we seek to reach. I had many interesting religious conversations with officials during the course, many of whom were among "the highest in the land". Perhaps I would not have had those opportunities if I had stayed aloof? Conjecture.
Now, compare Jesus' instruction to permeate with Paul's "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8. "Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if anyone with a weak conscience sees you who have this knowledge eating in an idol's temple, won't he be emboldened to eat what has been sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge."
It is clear to me that the "Salt Principle" of Matthew 5 and the "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8 are in tension. When should we permeate, and when should we set ourselves apart? The first principle relates to our obligations to those who do not know Christ, whereas the second principle relates to our obligations to fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. When is one obligation more important than the other? Which is ultimately more important? Can we uphold both principles simultaneously?
Perhaps Jesus' prayer for His disciples, recorded in John 17, is relevant? Jesus speaks of sending his disciples into the world (v11), but states that they are "not of the world" (v14). Jesus notes that in this respect His disciples are just like Him.
And done it was. A Buddhist priest and three monks were summoned to exorcise the ghosts, and a Ministry of Foreign Affairs advisor instructed me that my participation in this ceremony was imperative for demonstrating cultural sensitivity. What this involved was kneeling before a Buddhist altar and before the priests and monks for nearly two hours while they chanted and prayed and transferred energy up and down a string attached to the altar. Officials with cameras were reveling in a PR bonanza.
While kneeling I could think of only two things -- one, the concrete floor with linoleum square tiles, and, two, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego's witness (Daniel 3:16-18). They were willing to risk death in such circumstances, and I wasn't even willing to risk offending someone.
So, why am I telling you this story? It illustrates the "Salt Principle" in Jesus' instructions to His disciples (Matt 5:13-16). We are the salt of the earth, and salt permeates. As salt, we enter into the life and culture of the people we seek to reach. I had many interesting religious conversations with officials during the course, many of whom were among "the highest in the land". Perhaps I would not have had those opportunities if I had stayed aloof? Conjecture.
Now, compare Jesus' instruction to permeate with Paul's "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8. "Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if anyone with a weak conscience sees you who have this knowledge eating in an idol's temple, won't he be emboldened to eat what has been sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge."
It is clear to me that the "Salt Principle" of Matthew 5 and the "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8 are in tension. When should we permeate, and when should we set ourselves apart? The first principle relates to our obligations to those who do not know Christ, whereas the second principle relates to our obligations to fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. When is one obligation more important than the other? Which is ultimately more important? Can we uphold both principles simultaneously?
Perhaps Jesus' prayer for His disciples, recorded in John 17, is relevant? Jesus speaks of sending his disciples into the world (v11), but states that they are "not of the world" (v14). Jesus notes that in this respect His disciples are just like Him.
Challenging.
BTW, what would you have done in this circumstance?
BTW, what would you have done in this circumstance?
© Alister L Hunt PhD
4 comments:
Glad to see you're back writing again!
And an interesting observation of the balance of a Christian life. I struggle more with the concept of 'setting apart' than I do with the concept of 'being the salt'. I personally would rather have the opportunity to permeate than to be a groupies' member in a parallel dimension.
For what it's worth. And if that is heresy, we all know God has much more to teach me. My preference is that He teach me to be effectively saltier rather than show me how to be defensively less offensive to the weak.
You may remember the recent Sabbath School story of the missionary who ate a concoction, having been given the choice to eat it or be eaten, like previous candidates, by the natives. A discussion I heard condemned the poor man, based on the fact that blood was included in the brew -- among other revolting ingredients -- and obviously it was unclean! Never mind the mind-boggling dedication to spreading the gospel that would inspire someone to swallow such disgusting stuff. All that to allow himself the chance to be "salt" in that tribe. I see a parallel with kneeling before Buddha -- sometimes we have to do things we wouldn't normally do in order to preserve our influence, to give ourselves the chance to be heard and respected. It may be rationalizing, but I believe when we're called on to make tough decisions where neither choice is appealing, or pure, maybe we do sometimes have to choose the lesser of 2 evils.
I heard a great description of what it means to be 'salt': when you eat salt, you get thirsty. So our saltiness is to make people thirsty for the Water of Life.
Interestingly, the altar was an ornate four-posted contraption with a central pewter bowl. At the end of the chanting, the priest took the candles that were attached to the posts with braiding, and he thrust them into water in the pewter bowl, extinguishing the flame. The resulting "special" water was then flicked onto each person present and into each room in the building to drive out the ghosts.
I remember when it was my turn to be sprinkled, instead of bowing with my forehead to the ground, I stayed kneeling up straight. I could see by the look on the priest's face that he was unimpressed with this impertinent foreigner. He took his little hand-broom, dipped it to the hilt, and then sloshed its contents on me from head to knee, soaking me to the skin.
Anyway, I digress. It wasn't a Buddha that I was kneeling before, but I wonder whether that would have made any difference.
What did seem to provide the most opportunities to speak of my Christian beliefs was a sign with my name on it set alongside the vegetarian dish at each mealtime. Maybe living by one's principles can provide witnessing opportunities, as long as it does not project us as superior and aloof.
One argument I heard was, if one compromises on things he knows they aren’t right, just in order to “stay in business” on spreading the gospel, then those people converted would not be real converts, since the person who brought them the gospel was compromising the gospel himself.
The ones, who are bringing the gospel to the people, are being watched with eagle’s eyes, to make sure that they are living out what they preach and on how they act.
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