From Volume 10, Number 4, Spring 2004

Go into the City:
Healing Wounded History
Part 2

 In our previous issue we explored the source of the wounding that afflicts the whole human order as explained in the story of the fall of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3. There was one idea in that article that merits a closer look. In examining the effects of the Fall of humankind as told in the 3rd chapter of Genesis, the fracturing of the network of relationships at the heart of creation, the earlier article declared: “As we look upon the story in Genesis through this lens, the full breadth of the fracture begins to show itself. Even the concept of ‘total depravity,’ never a part of Celtic Christian spirituality, makes a sort of sense - not as the utter ruin of the imago dei, but the declaration that there is no part of existence that has escaped wounding by sin.” These wounds build upon each other with the passing of time. Each succeeding generation has the opportunity to heal these wounds, but more often we simply add to them, fixing ourselves in repetitive patterns of destruction and condemning the next generation to suffer the consequences. This series on “Healing Wounded History” looks at how the chains that bind us to the wounds of the past may be broken. It examines four areas of wounded history: the life of the community (the city), the life of the people group (the tribe or nation), the life of the individual and the life of the land on which we live.

First we’ll take a brief look at the healing of wounded communities. The Rev. Russ Parker, one of the founders of the St. Aidan Trust in the UK, has written an excellent book on the subject, Healing Wounded History, and for a deeper exploration I commend this work to you. For my purposes we’ll concentrate on how we can identify the woundings of our city or community and how we go about the healing work, the ministry of reconciliation that is ours in Christ Jesus (2 Corinthians 5).

The development of agriculture early in human history meant that we began to settle in one place, build permanent abodes, and develop a culture that was unique to that place. The character of the founders of a community and the purposes for which the community was founded form a substantial part of that community’s character, and of the wounds it carries from generation to generation. Russ Parker speaks of his home city of Liverpool as a city unloved and unwanted. It was a center of slave trade in Britain and a home for unwanted refugees – the Irish in the 19th century and Asian immigrants in the 20th. I currently work in a city that was founded in the utopian optimism of a reform-minded American in the late 19th century. The virtues and the vices of the founders of this settlement still resonate in the character of the town.

How then, do we hear the story of our own city or village? First, we must research the story. Why was it founded? Why was it founded where it was founded? Why was it founded when it was founded? What have been its moments of blessing or of shame? Second, we must walk our city. It is not enough to drive quickly through the places of hope, ambition, fear or despair. The community is best seen on foot. On foot you can see what has been abandoned, where the areas of vitality are, what parts of your city are loved and unloved As you walk, pray over the places as well, listen to what God has to say about these areas. Finally, observe. Who is moving into your community – and out. Listen to the debates in business and government. In short – listen to the story of your city.

Once the story of your city is told, you will know what to celebrate and where you need to repent. Repent? What if you are new to the city? What if you are a victim of the woundedness of the city? Where does repentance come into this?

There is another principle of healing wounded history in Parker’s book to which we need to attend. Parker terms this principle “representational confession.” Drawing on the examples of Daniel and Nehemiah we see those who identified with their community and confessed to God the failures of that community to live into God’s purposes. Not all can take the role of confessor. First there must be a connection between the person and the community. Daniel and Nehemiah were Jews, confessing the sins of the people of the covenant. A resident of the mid-west, with no connection to the east, cannot stand in the place of New York City. Second, there must be access to the one offended by the sin, to God himself. Through the intercession of Christ, a Christian has access to the Throne of Grace.

But when all such conditions are met, of what use is this practice in healing the wounds of a community? It is, in the end, only the beginning, but a necessary beginning nonetheless. It opens the door to harder work, to addressing the divisions in the community. To undertake this work requires a commitment to involvement in the life of the community. To undertake this work also moves us to call other Christians into the work.

Finally, where does all this connect with Celtic Christianity? There is no evidence of such practice in the writings of the Celtic saints. However, the focus of our work in Celtic Christianity is not the replication of a “perfect” church. The Celtic churches were far from perfect. And the conditions that gave birth to Celtic Christianity do not exist in our times. However, the Celtic Christians did understand the power of community life and the spiritual relationship between God’s people and the land and communities in which they dwell. It is ultimately the ministry of reconciliation to which all Christians are called. And the understanding of spiritual principles which we learn from the lives of the Celtic saints compel us to this work.