I was walking down the canned vegetable aisle at my local grocery a few nights ago, looking for crushed tomatoes when a rather juvenile and mischievous thought entered my mind: the idea for an epic prank. WHAT IF, I wondered, some anarchist-types descended on this very aisle and began systematically removing every label from every can, then piled them into a massive heap of ambiguous metallic cylinders? It would create quite a headache for somebody like me who depends on labels to make sure I’m picking up crushed tomatoes instead of kidney beans, not to mention the financial loss the store would have to take. Those flimsy, glued-on colorful paper wrappers are just as important as the content – assuming, of course, that the two match up.
The labels we use for people and institutions are far more tricky a proposition. Since the Good Lord didn’t see fit to equip us with metaphysical can openers to pry into the deep recesses of each others’ souls, we rely on perception – and perception tends to be far less reliable than a can opener. We wear lenses that skew reality with the shape of our prejudices, insecurities and personal histories. It’s very difficult, especially in today’s world of 140-character reporting and 30-second sound bytes, to dwell with another person beyond the surface noises and get a clear picture of what might reside within. Yet even with an intimate portrait of another human being, the reality is that we remain mysteries to each other and to ourselves. So we resort to labeling, which serves a functional necessity but should carry its’ own warning: DO NOT TRUST THIS LABEL.
Jesus certainly didn’t trust the labels his society placed on the people with whom he came into contact. Words like leper, tax collector, adulterer, even nice labels like “good teacher” or “rich young ruler” didn’t blind him to something deeper and more resonant – their very humanity, the substance of their being as children of God. Jesus was able to look upon people with total compassion because he looked past the label and into the soul.
In the last several months, I have personally gone through some drastic re-labeling. Once a member of the professional clergy, the paper was removed and several colorful combinations have taken its’ place: graphic artist, entrepreneur, theologian, networker, activist, author, and yes, even barista. The process has taught me the fragility and temporality of these labels – they belong to consumers of our identity. This season has also taught me to cultivate a deeper awareness of the true stuff of who I am, behind the label and under the lid.
For the Renew Project, there has likely been some head-scratching and speculation about what we are to become in the coming months and years. Some are at the ready with paper and glue, ready to label us. Whether we are an Organic Church, or a society of disgruntled Gen-X deconstructionist postmoderns, or New Age, or Missional or Apostate is anyone’s guess, and each will likely carry some water to one extent or another. What’s important to remember is the nature of labels, their basic limitations, and the importance of following Jesus in the art of seeing beyond them as we begin to take shape and become aware of ourselves, each other and the Spirit at work among us.
The call came out of the blue. An old friend whom I hadn’t seen in years wanted to meet up with me to talk about our new experiment in grassroots Jesus-discipleship. We met in Temescal, on Telegraph Avenue – ground zero, the neighborhood we hope to move our family into and begin the life-rhythms that will eventually become the substance of our spiritual work: cultivating families, food, work and play together. My friend already knew the neighborhood – it was the space between two medical facilities he was scheduled to visit.
