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Neither Jew Nor Greek, Biker Nor Runner,
Christianity's Spirit of Reconciliation
Acts 10: 44-48
I recently discovered there are two of me. What a shock it was when both of me discovered the other.
It dawned on me the other day that when I ride my bike on the Town Lake hike and bike trail, I'm a biker, and when I run, I'm a runner. Now this sounds so obvious it seems ridiculous. But hear me out. When I ride my bike on the Town Lake trail, I have a biker identity, biker consciousness, biker mind, biker practices, biker friends, and biker enemies. When I run on the trail, the exact same thing happens, except I have a runner identity, runner consciousness, runner mind, runner practices, runner friends, and runner enemies.
Hence my schizophrenia. I have two mutually exclusive worldviews, two totally different ways of interpreting the world and acting in it. The revelation that I was duel-minded shocked my Zen sensibilities. Equally shocking was the revelation that each one of my separate identities, biker and runner, inhabited the world of the other, and that they were not friends but enemies.
Let me explain.
I have a mountain bike, and I love riding my mountain bike on the Town Lake trail. My bike is essentially a propeller. I provide the power bars and the Gatorade, and it propels me down the path as I fast as I can go. My approach to riding on the trail is this: ride as fast as you can all the time.
There are a few other rules to the trail that I've picked up as I've biked it and observed other bikers. People, things, and circumstances will slow you down, so develop the skills you need to overcome these obstacles. The skills include sudden bursts of speed, quick turning, and a sense of timing. People with headphones and small dogs on long leashes pose the greatest threat to you. People walking side-by-side, three or four across, pushing SUV jogger strollers shouldn't be there at all. If possible, send them the message--you're blocking the path, move!--by riding directly at them. If they're paying attention, they'll move. Disregard the nasty looks they give you.
As a biker, I know that runners come with different abilities. The ones to watch out for are the fast, strong and alert ones. They think the path is theirs and that if you're not running on it you don't belong, so get off. Runners expect you to move out of their way. Some will defend the path with their bodies, and throw an elbow at you while passing. On occasion, you encounter a runner who's running right at you, and communicating to you with his eyes: get out of my way! When this happens, use your instincts to determine whether or not you'll be the one to move. There are no rules for this situation. It's strictly a test of wills.
When it comes to runners, always hold your ground, and claim the right of way. Remember, the trail does not belong to runners. It is ours. It's a bike trail.
Running.
It's only recently that I've begun riding a bike with any seriousness. But I've been a runner for over half my life, and I love running on the Town Lake trail. My approach to running is this: get into a nice relaxed pace and run as far as you can every time you run.
Relaxing, while staying alert, is one key element of a good run. Feeling strong and avoiding injuries are two others. The fewer the obstacles you encounter, the more you can relax into your groove and the better your run. The Town Lake trail is ideal because you can run the entire 10-mile distance without ever having to stop and cross a busy street or intersection. The Town Lake trail is virtually obstacle free.
Virtually. But not completely.
Obstacles include people with headphones and small dogs on long leashes, and people walking side-by-side, three or four across, pushing SUV jogger strollers.
Your biggest obstacle and your most dangerous threat is the biker. Bikers are demons from hell. Fast bikers on mountain bikes are particularly evil. They dart about aggressively like sharks, blood lust etched on their faces, kicking up waves of dust. Bikers are pirates, illegally boarding our running trail and seizing it from us. Every inch of crushed stone they press under their tires is stolen treasure.
Because they're faster and sitting on metal they try to snatch the right of way every time. Never move out of a biker's way. They do not have the right of way. They should not even be on the path. It's a runner's path. If you get into close quarters with a biker, jab with your elbows. If a biker's on your side of the path passing someone, run right at the biker. Send the message: get out of my way! In this test of wills, don't back down. Control the path. Leave bikers no room to maneuver. Slow them down to a crawl.
Well, there you have it. A glimpse into my two selves--my biker self and runner self.
First let me say that in a tongue and cheek kind of way, I've reduced the joy of biking and running on the Town Lake trail to one element: ruthless self-interest. I did it to make a point, to highlight in exaggerated form two very different worldviews and two very different sets of self-interest that come into direct conflict with each other.
The biker and the runner each have their own consciousness, their own way of looking at the world, their own way of acting in the world, their own perspective on the natural order as God created it--the way things are supposed to be, the way people are supposed to behave, the division between right and wrong, good and evil, who belongs and who doesn't.
The problem is this: each one does not belong in the other's world. Bikers don't belong in the runner's world and runners don't belong in the biker's world. Each one violates the other's natural order. Each is the evil other--the one that must somehow be controlled, or better yet, made to disappear. Each feels the world would be set right if the other were gone.
You can imagine what a shock it was to my two identities when each one discovered the other's existence. For several days, I couldn't bike or run on Town Lake without offending somebody.
Thank God though, both of me are Christians. Taking seriously the Christian spirituality of reconciliation, justice and peace-making, the two sides of me began talking to one other. They began listening to one another's perspectives and concerns, their hopes and dreams. They sought to understand how each one viewed the trail, and why each one acted the way he did when on it. They began breaking down stereotypes and realizing for the first time that perhaps the other one wasn't evil. Perhaps each could find common ground with the other.
As a result of this dialogue, and the growing appreciation for the reality of the other, I've undergone a profound transformation in my Town Lake trail etiquette. When riding my bike now, I find myself occasionally granting runners the right of way. When running, I will from time to time move a bit to the side of the trail to allow a biker to pass.
I wouldn't go so far as to say a complete reconciliation has come about. However, neither one of me believes anymore that peace and justice can be achieved only if the other disappears. We have learned to share the path.
I share all this with you because this is what I thought of when I read this morning's passage from Acts the Apostles. While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles.
Even on the Gentiles. They were astounded.
Why were the circumcised believers astounded that even the uncircumcised Gentiles would receive the Holy Spirit? They were astounded because the Jews and Gentiles were a bit like the biker and runner on the Town Lake trail. I don't want to stretch the analogy too far, but let's just say the two didn't really mix all that much. Each had their own worldview, their own natural order they ascribed to, their own self-interests they pursued, and their own opinion of each other, which wasn't always favorable.
Christianity, as a faith community, emerged through the drawing together and reconciliation of people who did not always get along with each other. One could argue that the true spiritual essence, the true spiritual practice of Christianity is reconciliation--healing wounds that separate people, facilitating an understanding of the needs and perspectives of the other, finding common ground through which new communities and identities can be created.
The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Galatians, describes how Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit bring together Jews and Greeks, males and females, slaves and free, and gives them all a new identity--Christian. In other words, God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit bring together opposites, heal and reconcile their troubled relationships, and create whole new relationships and identities built on love and understanding.
This is Christianity's heritage, identity, and mission in the world. It's our heritage, identity, and mission in the world. Reconciliation. Reconciling our own split personalities and divided loyalties. Reconciling our selves with one another. Reconciling our selves with the homeless kids on our porch. Seeking reconciliation between people who are hurting and being hurt, who are killing and being killed, here in Austin and around the world.
This is who we are, this is what we do.
The day all relationships are reconciled, the day the wolf and lamb feed together, is the day we'll have true peace on earth.
And the day I compete in my first biking/running biathlon is the day you'll know I've achieved true inner peace.
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