Mark Scandrette

Several years ago during a discussion in one of our Learning Labs, Sarah told us that she grew up in a very “conservative” family. I found this description interesting because I knew that her father had divorced and remarried several times and, in her words, subsisted  “on martinis and cigars.” What she meant is that her father had “conservative” political and economic views and enjoyed AM talk radio and conspiracy theories. This was very different than the kind of “conservative” in the family where I grew up.  My parents were morally “conservative,”  deeply religious and largely apolitical. They cared about global poverty and justice, personal piety and most of all, having a personal relationship with Jesus. Sarah and I used the same word to describe two very different realities.  If our parents ever met they would probably struggle to find much in common.

At a recent dinner party with good friends the conversation abruptly shifted when one of us used a derogatory label to describe someone from their family. The person had been misunderstood and hurt by a person they described as a “Southern Redneck.” I believe that the ways we often use language to describe other people are largely unhelpful. Most people don’t easily fit into the labels that are used to describe them. I know “liberal” people who are deeply committed to fidelity in marriage and “conservative” people who have repeatedly committed adultery. I know “traditional” people who care for the poor and oppressed and “progressives” who talk about compassion but don’t show it by their actions. I know “Christians” who live in fear and hardly pray and agnostics who pray earnestly every day.  The labels we use conjure up images and prejudices in each other’s minds prepare us to react to people in ways that aren’t true to who they really are.

From my vantage point, the “culture wars” raging in America seem to be fueled by a lack of empathy or understanding for people who are different than us. We don’t all have to agree, but we can learn to conduct our discourse in a ways that are respectful and personal. I might not like the views of a politician or agree with the tenants of a certain religion, but I can learn to speak about people that in a way that is fair and generous.

One of the challenges of my role and location is navigating between many different communities and cultures that don’t necessarily understand one another. I often find myself acting as translator– explaining the experiences of my gay friends to someone opposed to certain legislation– or dispelling misconceptions of Evangelical Christians to a “mainline” or secular person. In some of the groups I work with I am dangerously “progressive,” while among other groups I am considered the token orthodox or “evangelical” Christian. Yet I am often surprised by what I have in common with a conservative Rabbi, a Zen Buddhist, an atheistic naturalist, a gay priest or a zealous Southern Baptist seminary student.

The fact is, no one is as simple as what our first impressions may be.  My neighbor Jeanine is a prime example of this. Jeanine is a lawyer. She is also a native Texan– who grew up in a devoutly observant Jewish household, but currently practices Zen meditation. She is also a lesbian, a vegetarian, an urban bohemian and the mother of an adorable one year old daughter.  Jeanine loves to mountain bike and surf, speaks fluent Spanish, and talks to her mom everyday on the phone. She is a unique and intriguing person that is beyond the sum of her biographical particulars.

When we do react to each other out of our stereotypes, we fail to love one another in the way that God loves each of us. People are people. The example of Christ calls us to see one another with eyes of hope and possibility, curiosity and tenderness– because we are not alone. We belong to one another and to the one who made us.

Some friends have started a magazine. Check it out here:

Last week I stopped off for lunch with my old friend and mentor, Dieter Zander. I first met Dieter 12 years ago when he was speaking at a Willow Creek Conference at Bethel Seminary in Minneapolis– and I was instantly smitten by his articulate gentleness and urbane creativity– qualities I had rarely encountered in the Christian leaders I had met. Dieter spoke of generational and societal shifts and the importance of chasing down the connection between the ancient ways of Jesus and the dynamics of a rapidly changing culture. Lisa and I walked out of his session stunned and convinced we had heard from God. In a small courtyard we quietly committed the next 15 years of our lives to wrestling with what had just been jawakened in us. Through a series of curious twists and serendipitous events, Dieter, Val and their children ended up moving to San Francisco two years after we did, and together with a few others we founded ReIMAGINE in the year 2000.

Last year Dieter had a sudden stroke that left him significantly disabled with a speech impediment and some physical paralysis. Known and loved for his ability to teach and inspire, with an exceptional gift for making people aware of God’s presence through music, this stroke, as you may well imagine, has been simply devastating.

“What does the second half of life look like when so much of what you have known and been identified with has taken from you? And how do I comfort a friend who has suffered and lost so much?”

I pondered these questions as I drove up to Dieter’s home. When he got into my car to go to lunch he turned to me and said, “Mark. Talk slow. We go slow. Talking with me will be relaxing– we take our time O.K?” I took this as a gentle chastisement for my hurry and wordiness– and as an invitation to be present and still.

I reflected to Dieter that I am now the age that he was when we met– and that I spend a lot of my time with people much like I once was–young, ambitious and idealistic. Over the years my respect and appreciation for Dieter has grown as I move through the various passages of adulthood.

We sit across from one another at a local brewpub, talking slowly, sometimes eating in awkward silence and with eyes full of tears. Even with his limited capacity for speech Dieter finds ways to convey his love, concerns and affirmation. I’ve come here today to pay my respects to a mentor, to receive his wisdom about the struggles and seasons of life, and maybe to offer some encouragement and comfort. “Mark, I’m in the winter, ” he says, “The spring. The summer. They were new and exciting. The fall was still colorful– even when you feel the chill of winter coming. But the winter, here it is dark and cold. You are in the fall, headed towards winter, where I am. We don’t know when or if spring and summer will come again.” I tentatively ask Dieter how he is learning to make sense of the unfolding story of his life. “It would take a long time for me to explain,” he says, “Its hard to talk about. Maybe you and I will go on a retreat someday and I will tell you. For now I will say– I know that God loves me more than I ever knew before– and that my family and my friends are so important– and I love the small things– the food and drink, sunshine, sleep, and walking with my dog. To love and be loved is what really matters to me now. It took me along time to learn this.”

On our way back from lunch Dieter asks me to stop by Costco so he can pick up some photo prints– a new way he has discovered to capture the beauty he finds in God’s world and the faces of people. Back in the car he flips through the small stack of pictures with great delight. And they are simple and lovely scenes. At great cost, Dieter and Val are teaching me, and many others, how to embrace hope in the seasons and sufferings of life.

was a real success, a great gathering of people from the Lower Haight neighborhood, Seven and ReIMAGINE around food, friendship, poetry and music. Someone snapped this photo of me:

My friend Andrew McLeod will be speaking on his book, Holy Cooperation: Building Graceful Economies Sunday evening December 14 at 8 P.M. hosted by Church of the Sojourners located at 1129 Florida, between 23rd and 24th.

Andrew McLeod is a cooperative development consultant who works with the California Center for Cooperative Development (Davis, Calif.) and the Northwest Cooperative Development Center (Olympia, Wash.). He is now a candidate for the Masters in Management – Cooperatives and Credit Unions from the Sobey Business School at St. Mary’s University in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

He has been involved in the cooperative movement since 1992. His interests include democratic processes, the intersection of cooperative economics and religion, community-based food production and distribution, international models for power-sharing, and cooperative disaster recovery techniques. His past work includes serving on the organizing committees for several conferences on the regional and national levels, as well as providing pro bono consulting to groups in area still recovering from Hurricane Katrina.

Andrew is the author of Holy Cooperation!: Building Graceful Economies, a book that explores cooperative elements of Christianity. He recently presented a paper on common cooperative tendencies found in Judaism, Christianity and Islam, at the International Cooperative Alliance Research Conference in Riva del Garda, Italy. He has also written several published articles and maintains a blog at www.coopgeek.wordpress.com.

Andrew attends a church called Flood that is exploring how we can share our resources, and planning to convert some of our lawn into food production.