Turning Over Tables or Turning the Other Cheek

The subversive power of presence in a politically aggressive world.

Photo by Erin Deuel - taken in Meat Camp, North Carolina

We’ve all been there…as a witness or a participant. A political or theological conversation moves from congenial to combative. Harsh words are exchanged, and each party takes aim with insults and injuring accusations. Friends sometimes depart as enemies, and family members are shunned.

Often times, the warring parties justify their words and actions by invoking a well-known story from the New Testament. “Well, didn’t Jesus turn over the tables in the temple?”  Isn’t indignation and rage righteous sometimes? Emulating the “strongman” Savior, relational destructiveness is rationalized by the perceived rightness of the cause.

I have mixed feelings about this application of Jesus’s actions. It requires quite a bit of self-confidence to assert that your own cause is as just as Jesus’s. Jesus, after all, had the power to both heal and raise the dead (feats I’ve never even attempted). My guess is that his wisdom to know whether that level of disruption was warranted superseded any human wisdom.

In every mention of this story (Matthew 21:12, Mark 11:15, and John 2:15), Jesus seems to be forcefully interrupting a practice of religious oppression. The tables Jesus turned over in the temple were money stands where greedy merchants were exploiting the spiritual aspirations of the poor and foreigners, marginalized seekers who were made to feel unworthy by a broken and rigorous religious system.

How often do we trade in currencies of self-righteousness and self-aggrandizement? There is a unique form of corruption that comes with puffed up assumptions about our own piety. Jesus will always come through with a whip and stern words when holiness descends to haughtiness, and when we exploit others through the economy of artificial zeal and feigned faithfulness.

I worry sometimes that our political opinions are less driven by a conviction to protect our neighbor’s rights and are more about a desire to protect our own sense of right-ness. Yes, Jesus calls us to radical acts on behalf of the poor, the sick, the grieved. Sin is to be confronted.

But Jesus’s radical way also invites us to love our enemies as well as our neighbors. If our enemy asks us to go one mile, we are to go two. If he wants our shirt, we should give him our coat as well (Matthew 5:40-41).

Perhaps most perplexingly, in this same sermon, Jesus tell us that “if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also” (verse 39). Is this the same man who turned over the money tables in the temple?

The good folks at the Bible Project note that a slap to the right cheek was a backhanded blow, and in the ancient world would have been understood as an insult to honor rather than an act of serious physical injury. It was a public form of aggression, in which the assailant asserted dominance over the person slapped, for a backhand slap was something you did to someone of lower rank than you. In an honor/shame society, this offense would have been severe.

To turn the other cheek, then, would have offered the aggressor the opportunity to re-evaluate you, to slap you with an open palm as you would (in the ancient world) an equal. In this way, turning the other cheek would have been an act not merely of submission, but of subversion. It would have been a gentle form of resistance, asserting your presence and inviting the aggressor to look you in the eye, and reassess you. It would have forced both parties, at least for a moment, to re-evaluate the other’s humanity.

When we are offended by someone’s thoughts, ideas, or opinions of us, we have a choice. We can hit them back (literally or figuratively) with our own opinions and aggression. Or we can run away, hiding behind the “block” button and the digital walls of disembodied online discourse. In isolation, we nurse narratives of victimhood and helplessness. There, our festering feelings about our enemy’s lack of intellect, empathy, or worth can infect the entirety of our communal life.  

The other option, of course, is to remain present, to persevere in discourse. We can stay, remain calm and civil, continue to offer our perspective and learn from the other person. This is, of course, risky to some degree. There is certainly a place for removing yourself from a harmful situation, for showing intolerance to hate. But I wonder - if we were more willing for our prides to be wounded, how many relationships might remain intact? If we had a disposition of compassion even towards those whose opinions make us cringe, might our communities expand, and our hearts open a bit?

Presence is its own form of power. I can’t help but notice that Jesus sits down at more tables than he flips over. He sits and eats with sinners and outcasts. He parties with tax collectors and political zealots, and breaks bread with the poor and rich alike, the religious elites and the religious exiles.

I think a lot about ways to emulate this form of presence. At our church here in Boone, we host a series of discussion oriented meals called Table Talks. Over take-out soups, sandwiches and salads, we talk about “hot-button” issues of our day, inviting Christ into our dialogue. Our hope is that if we, as a church, can “argue well,” then we might offer a powerful witness to a watching world that too often argues very, very badly.

We have a major election in three weeks, and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s a particularly contentious one. Most of us have strong feelings about it, are passionate about the issues most important to us, and are likely frustrated by our friends and family who don’t see things the way we do.

That’s ok! Having a difference of opinion is a privileged offered to us by American democracy.

But the next time my personal opinions descend into destructive discourse…the next time I am tempted to justify my rage and vitriol by fancying myself an angry Jesus in a corrupt temple, I am going to picture instead a resolutely relational Jesus, seated at a table the night before his own death at the hands of his enemies. A betrayer to his left, a denier on his right, Jesus remained present and offered a life-changing meal: bread and wine meant to represent his own body and blood. Every time we eat of this meal, we are to remember Christ’s sacrifice and radical, subversive presence.

Photo by Kevin Schmid on Unsplash

And now for some provisions…

The East Boone Listening Room is back in business here in Boone, though the October event has been canceled due to ongoing flood recovery. To open the season (just before Helene hit), a bunch of us gathered for an evening of songwriters in the round, and I was privileged to hear from Hickory based duo Morning Bath. Julianna and Brandon Berg’s music can be found under Brandon’s name here on Spotify. This sweet song they sang that night has been in my head ever since, especially because it speaks to that disorientation we feel when seasons change and relationships are broken. Oh, that we would never be strangers at each other’s tables!

“summer's over fall has ended

winter's here there's no pretending

camellia blooms are brown and bending

our brittle love could not be mended

I knew you well, elbow and ankle

but now our story's just a fable

strangers setting separate tables

remember me well if you're able”

Speaking of bringing people to the table, I’m so excited for the release of Kendall Vanderslice’s new book Bake and Pray: Liturgies and Recipes for Baking Bread as a Spiritual Practice. From the back cover: “From God’s provision of manna in the wilderness to Jesus’ miraculous multiplication of loaves, bread functions throughout Scripture as a sign of God’s presence and provision.”

Kendall is a good friend who practices what she preaches, setting tables of communion for people from all kinds of backgrounds and persuasions. This book is truly gorgeous, for the experienced baker and novice alike.

And for those of you still wanting to offer provisions for Western North Carolina as we continue to recovery from Hurricane Helene, here are a few ideas on ways to support small businesses and cultural centers that have been hit hard:

Lansing, North Carolina is a little town just north of Boone that has recently experienced a community, cultural, and retail renaissance of sorts with so many fun shops, eateries, and art spaces opening up. Downtown Lansing was hit hard by the flood, with most businesses taking in nearly a foot of water.

• Amy Anne Apparel is my favorite little clothing store in the entire world, selling gorgeous embroidered clothing and floral skirts and dresses. They’ve lost all their inventory both for the brick and mortar location and online shop, as well as their embroidery machine and specialty printers. Their fundraising page is up and running.

• My new friend Lindsey at The Squirrel and the Nut shop in Lansing prides herself in community sustainability and offers a variety of vintage antiques and local artisan crafts at her store. She is dealing with half a foot of mud in her shop right now, but you can help her rebuild by going to her fundraising page here.

• The Old Orchard Creek General Store is one of my favorite places to sit with coffee and write, read, and research. It is a hub of community life in Lansing, hosting concerts and art events. The store had to be totally gutted, so help them out by chipping in towards the effort at their fundraising page.

Local artisans and craft makers have been especially hard hit as many fall festivals (where a huge chunk of annual sales occur) have been cancelled and tourism has been on pause. I’d love for you to support some of my friends who really need to make up for some of these sales losses:

• Amy Lowery of Tiny Hands Pottery is a lovely human who crafts unique pieces (including mugs, wine goblets, and clay jewelry that are modern, simple, and timeless. She’s even created these beautiful heart earrings as a benefit piece to help support other local artists.

• FireLight Book and Candle in Blowing Rock is my favorite little indie bookshop, and their hand-crafted soy candles are my favorite gift to buy friends and family. Order online today and get free shipping.

• Faith Mountain Farms is a bee farm and granola bakery that lost dozens of hives and sustained lots of water damage to the farm. Honey supplies might not last long, but you can order their granola and protein balls online as a gift (or to enjoy yourself!)

And finally, I’d love for you to support the historic Altapass Apple Orchard. They sustained much damage, lost their apples to the storm, and are closed for the season. This place is near and dear to my heart, as apples are a central feature of traditional Appalachian foodways and culture. This orchard seeks to preserve the old ways with the site not only serving as an heirloom orchard but also a heritage music venue and educational center. Click here to learn how you can financially support their recovery efforts. (earmark your donation for hurricane recovery by including the words “hurricane recovery” in the comments section of the online form).