Community from Scratch
How one pastor is building Christian community where it doesn't come easy.
I n the shadow of inner-city crack houses, Eugene Rivers preaches a radical gospel. It's the same message he preaches to Boston politicians, gangs, and the Christian Coalition: love, radical love. Educated on the streets and at Harvard, Rivers's journey from gang member to minister began when he was confronted with his own mortality while listening to Billy Graham on the radio. Rivers, 49, now pastors Azusa Christian Community in south Boston. His work among gangs was recently a Newsweek cover story. While in Chicago for a conference on violence prevention, Rivers talked with Leadership editors Marshall Shelley and Eric Reed about establishing community in a tough environment.
What have gangs taught you about community?
They'll go somewhere to find fraternity in the midst of a crisis. The "all for one, one for all" ethic drives the gang. The loyalty, allegiance, and camaraderie that are cardinal dimensions of gang life are what they need in the church.
How has that changed the way you build community among young people?
A young woman, a sophomore at Yale, wanted me to be a father figure for her because she had never had that kind of affirmation. She knew she could not flower as a woman until she had that. The absence of fatherhood in the black community has had catastrophic consequences. So for her and for these young people, there is a yearning for parents, for fathers, who will listen, laugh, correct, and enjoy the dialogue.
Is the family, then, your picture of community?
How does that compare with other biblical models?
Not until the church engages the power of the Spirit in our life together will we be what God called us to be. Truth can be a weapon, more damaging then healing, in the hands of the unwise.
What prevents this from happening?
Truth can be a weapon, more damaging than healing, in the hands of the unwise. People have to be psychologically and spiritually ready to hear certain truths. I learned that at Harvard. I used to do a seminar on "contemporary urban issues," some heavy-duty stuff on racism in society and the role the church has played in that. For some of the kids, it was overwhelming. One Christian kid almost had an emotional breakdown. From that I learned that each pastor needs to ask, "Is the person ready to receive? Am I the person to share the insight? And what is the best way to do it?" In some cases, choosing the right vehicle is more important than the truth itself.
How do you determine if you're the right person to deliver a hard truth?
How do you develop that?
In discussions I say, "I may misunderstand this. So you've got to help me." And so you teach the virtue of vulnerability. That frees other people to be more honest, because you've created a safe space in which people can share.
Has that happened in your ministry?
At Azusa we don't care if you're Republican or Democrat. That's not the litmus test for our life together. We may have significant cultural differences, but we'll agree to disagree because the most important thing is the ethic of love. My non-negotiable bottom line is that we love one another.
That sounds good. How do you do it?
Fifteen years ago I thought ethical rigor and discipline were the imperatives, but churches are to be pastoral communities. They are to be sanctuary, hospital. In such a context, prayer heals the wounded. It's redemptive; it's therapeutic. Then when people come in from the streets, broken and in pain, the confessional community becomes a place of healing and acceptance. Here your imperfections, your flaws, are not held against you. In real community you are encouraged to believe that with God's power you can overcome and transcend your limitations. Truth can be a weapon, more damaging than healing, in the hands of the unwise. Eugene Rivers is pastor of Azusa Christian Community 411 Washington St., Boston MA 02124 www.NTLF.org Copyright © 1999 by the author or Christianity Today International/Leadership Journal. |              | |||||||||||||||||||
