A Moral Obligation

I am dismayed. I read the headlines and my heart breaks. The treatment of refugee children at our borders is nothing short of appalling. They are children, for goodness sake. Or maybe I should not be polite and exclaim what is truly on my heart: "they are children, for Christ's sake." Literally - for Christ's sake. Children caught up in systems of violence not of their making. Children who have survived trauma -- of the  journey alone -- that most of us cannot even begin to imagine. Children, vulnerable, fleeing for their lives, seeking asylum.

And what do they find at our border and in communities where they may find temporary shelter? Angry taunts, not open arms. Violent protests, not a compassionate embrace. Signs that read "not in my back yard," and "return to sender."  Really?  We are not talking about nuclear waste here. We are not talking about commodities. We are talking about children. I am dismayed. What is wrong with us?

What ever happened to "give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free?"

I grew up on a farm near small towns in the Midwest. I was taught -- by my parents and by my grandparents, by my church, by my school that this is what America is all about. I was taught that this is what makes America great -- not economies or military might, but that those facing the horrors of other parts of the world would find shelter and a new beginning here. Because America is different. We embrace those whom the rest of the world casts away. Really? What has happened to us as a people? What has become of the soul of our nation?

When I was in junior high -- that's what we called it back then -- the world faced the refugee crisis of the boat people, displaced Vietnamese fleeing for their lives. My small town welcomed a young family -- a mom, dad, and twin baby girls. We befriended them. We gave them a place to land until they could reconnect with family elsewhere in our country. They spoke no English. We spoke no Vietnamese, but it didn't matter. For a time, we dwelt together. They were Christ for us, and I hope and pray that we were Christ for them. In our small town, they found a place of safety, community, love, compassion, and we found friends.We sat together. We ate together. We played with the children.  We breathed the same air and walked the same streets. And it was good.

What has happened between then and now?

I fully understand that the issues which have brought these children to our borders are complex, with no simple solutions. But I also fully understand that our response to these children must not be up for debate. We are called to respond with compassion. We are called to see Christ and be Christ. In the immediate, it really is that simple.

After all, the call of God comes to us in many ways. Sometimes it comes through words. Sometimes it comes through circumstance. Often, it comes when we least expect it and in ways that we do not desire, but God calls still the same.

I fully believe God is calling us know -- as individuals, as communities, as churches -- I would even say as a nation. God is calling us to be for these children what God desires that we be.

And if the language of faith does not work for you, then simple morality beckons you to respond. Children -- vulnerable children are at our doorstep. We are facing a humanitarian crisis, and we have a basic moral obligation to help. It really is that simple.

30 Pieces of Clothing

For several years now, I have primarily thrift shopped for my clothes. It began as an occasional foray into thrifting, but has become a regular practice. Retail shopping for clothing, especially, is a challenge for me. I look at prices. I read labels. I imagine the sweat shops from which so much of our "cheap" American clothing comes, and I just can't do it, at least not very often.

Thriftng and consignment store shopping has made me keenly aware of so much that I previously ignored. It has made me think about the disposable nature of so much of our lives, and how relatively easy it is to alter one's habits, save money, and feel a little better about one's choices.  I certainly don't expect that it is a practice for everyone, but for me, it is a good discipline. I would even say a spiritual practice.

Thrifting, however, has a downside as well. Because items in thrift stores are less expensive, it is easy to buy more. Why settle for one pair of black shorts when I could have three? Oh, I may not wear that top very often, but it's only a few dollars, so what difference does it make? Hmmm. Not really the outcomes I was anticipating.

So, I'm taking on a new challenge -- the 30 pieces of clothing challenge. What would it be like to live, for 6 months, with only 30 pieces of clothing, excluding undergarments?

But I need your help. What should the 30 pieces of clothing be? Remember, I live in a climate of changing seasons, and over a 6 month period, temps could range from -20 degrees to 90 plus.  Also remember, I'm clergry, and in the work that I do, there are some days that I might need two different clergy shirts.

So, 2 clergy shirts and 28 more pieces of clothing. Help me out. What should they be? And you decide: are things like winter coats and fall jackets included in the 30?

I'll let you know how it goes!

Orange is the New Black, by Piper Kerman

Orange is the New Black is a memoir of a period of experience (not a lifespan) and a commentary through that experience on the American criminal justice system. Relying on the assurance that what she relays about her own incarceration is truthful to her memory, Kerman embraces the authority of first person voice to tell a story that is personal, though not singular, a story that challenges the narratives of power and invites the reader to read beyond the words on the page to question the ramifications and implications toward which those words point.  Is there any room for restoration in our system? How close is our system of corrections to revenge?  Is our system about justice or about retribution?

 

Kerman’s writing reflects the uniqueness of her own intersectional identities: she is a white, educated, middle class woman, temporarily incarcerated, with means and resources to not only survive her limited sentence, but to move beyond it once her time is served. While Orange is certainly her story, Kerman’s writing gives voice to countless others who have no voice, and in such a way, through its telling, the personal becomes political.

 

A moving narrative that portrays the interwoven complexity of choices, consequences, circumstance, and identity, Orange is a worthwhile read for any who seek to find a place in their story for their past, and for those who wonder if the telling of one’s story really can make a difference.

Kerman, Piper. Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison, Spiegel & Grau (March 8, 2011).

Following Atticus, by Tom Ryan

Following Atticus invites the reader into a story of self-discovery and personal transformation that grows out of an unlikely relationship between a man and his dog.  So much more than “a dog story,” Following Atticus draws the reader into an exploration of the geography of the soul that probes the connections between the choices we make for ourselves, the context in which we live, and the spirit with which we encounter life. Emotional and evocative, Ryan’s writing chronicles an inward journey through which, immersed in and challenged by the natural world, he meets himself by becoming more than he has been in the past.

 

Somewhat confessional in posture, Following Atticus artfully integrates memories and spatial descriptions so that the reader is not simply a passive observer of Ryan’s journey, but a companion along the way.

 

For anyone facing a crossroads – intentionally or unintentionally – of past and future, Following Atticus highlights the possibilities inherent in change, without romanticizing or glamorizing its challenges. It, therefore, is a thought-provoking read for any facing the climb of literal or metaphorical mountains.

Ryan, Tom. Following Atticus: Forty-eight High Peaks, One Little Dog, and an Extraordinary Friendship, William Morrow Paperbacks (August 7, 2012).

 

Becoming Odyssa, by Jennifer Pharr Davis

"Becoming Odyssa" is a pilgrimage memoir that probes the interwoven relationship between the trail, the hike, memory, the self, becoming, and God. It explores both the physical and spiritual journey of one young woman as she sets out to hike the Appalachian Trail out of a sense of calling to do so, and after the 2,175 mile journey finds that she is more certain of herself than she has ever been. She confronts her fears, wrestles with solitude, identity, and community, and grows into an acute awareness of her own experiences of the presence of God. In the process, she finds her way home – not to a physical place, but to a place of truly knowing herself and feeling at home with who she is.


Written in such a way that the reader joins with Jennifer’s steps, it unfolds not as a travelogue but as an inward journey that both parallels and grows out of the outward journey. The reader travels through a new physical landscape and into a new spiritual topic with each successive chapter.


For the reader who desires to explore the relationship between the physical and spiritual trials and triumphs of a pilgrimage-on-foot, Becoming Odyssa is an excellent read. However, the value of this book is not limited to those who will spend several months on an actual, physical journey: it also is an excellent resource for any who long for a story that will provide a means for reflection upon such topics as love, truth, home, generosity, and perseverance.


Pharr Davis, Jennifer. Becoming Odyssa: Epic Adventures on the Appalachian Trail, Beaufort Books, 2010.