When I was in seminary, then-academic Dean M. Douglas Meeks described a discussion he had as a Ph.D. candidate in Germany as taking place in the best theological tradition, in a bar with a lot of beer. One of the great theological books, far too often talked about and far too little read, is Martin Luther's Table Talk. It is this that is, I think, Meeks' reference point. Luther was a great lover of brewed malt and hops. Drink would loosen his tongue a great deal. Like all great and powerful men and women throughout history, he had his sycophants and hangers-on, and they would jot down this or that quip or epigram on beer napkins, table cloths, whatever was handy; the results, published as Table Talk, is occasionally hilarious, always insightful, and gives a rare glimpse of an early-16th century, pre-modern man of letters.
One thing my wife and I have mused about, on and off over the years of her ministry, is the reaction of a local congregation to actually putting Jesus' ministry in to practice. Not the whole "preaching to the masses" stuff; more like "Jesus was accused of hanging out with drunkards and prostitutes" stuff. Well, it seems there are some Christians, in Chicago at any rate, who are at least willing to risk the first part.
I have no opinion on the journalistic merits of the story as presented in the GetReligion.com piece. I do find it interesting, though, to consider the surprise reporters voice on the thought of ministry taking place in such a setting. Imagine! Taking the Good News to a bar! We Americans, for far too long, have associated liquor with vice (and there are good reasons for this, to be sure), rather than as a social lubricant, a way to open people up. Jesus was certainly not afraid to imbibe, or to ensure that others did, as well. He also was not concerned with the moral approbation of the self-appointed moral scolds of his place and time; he took his message of Divine love to those who needed to hear it. That's also why the kind of small-mindedness that reacts with a knee-jerk "tut-tutting" at bad language makes me smile; imagine, if you will, the kind of talk Jesus most likely encountered as he sat around talking with caravan drivers, prostitutes (both the legal and less-than-legal variety), and social outcasts of his time. Do you think Jesus got upset over the occasional first-century equivalent of the "f-bomb"?
Even as various denominations and church agencies struggle with ways of being relevant, of taking ministry in new directions and to underserved populations, the notion of sitting around a bar, with a pitcher of beer to loosen tongues and open minds, seems quite far-fetched. So does the idea of sitting and talking with working girls. Yet, in a very real and literal way, to do so would be to imitate Christ far more radically than sitting around and talking about how bad some people are, and how good other people are. Jesus wasn't concerned about whether people were good or not; he was far more concerned with the fact that far too may people were abandoned by society because they were deemed "bad". This is an example we need to follow.
