blessed are...

[my blog post was featured on the MCC Latin American Advocacy blog! Same post, but with some fancy artwork. Interesting blog too]

Blessed are those who mourn,
   for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
   for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
   for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
   for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
   for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
   for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
   for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Sometimes there are no other words to express all the feelings that well up inside me. And even at times, these words that have been passed down to generation after generation of believers still feel insufficient.

It has been a long week...and one with a lot of questions. Why does God allow terrible things to happen? Why do God-fearing, God-following people suffer and those who don't follow Christ not seem to suffer at all? How can I provide comfort to people who understand the reality of injustice much more than I ever can?

How can we as Christians who talk and talk and talk about justice make any kind of change in a dangerous and violent society where people are too afraid to speak out?

This week took a shocking turn for my church family in Santa Rosa when one of our brothers was brutally killed after preaching at another church a few minutes outside of town. This man was a well-respected member of our church, always humble and caring, always with a smile and a joking word. He was also a mentor within the youth group and will be greatly missed as a father-figure for many kids, not just his own.

Although it has not been easy, it has been a privilege to be part of this church community and share in their pain this week. To walk along side them and share in the grieving process has taught me a lot already and continues to stretch me in my relationships with friends and in my faith.

When faced with situations of injustice and pain, my first reaction is often one of anger and frustration. Then I think, "ok, but what are we going to DO about it?" Taking action feels like the only correct response, and if I'm not actively pursuing something, then I'm not doing enough. But perhaps we need a change in our thinking. To allow ourselves the freedom to be still for a moment (or two), to mourn, weep, question, beat our chest and dwell in the tragedy and pain. 

It was only in reading the thoughts of others that I was able to allow myself this space for lament and mourning:

The antiquated notion of lamentation points us in a direction opposite to our contemporary impulses. We are conditioned to respond to a problem...by identifying a course of action and mustering as much resolve as possible in an effort to make a positive difference. The standard operating principles – which have their place – include effort, productive change and hope. Lamentation derails that. It provides a sacred space in which to expose our shadiest feelings. 

I need this. I can’t carry all [of this] with me. 

Lamentation is a space in which we do not need to hide or minimize these normally frowned-upon sentiments...In lament, we walk straight into the darkness, the valley of shadows, and stay there as long as necessary. 

Nancy Duff, a professor at Princeton Theological Seminary and an advocate of reviving lamentation, writes that usually “we are taught that true faith in God mitigates such intense feelings” as the ones we might express in lament. Similarly, theologian Walter Brueggemann notes the common and, in his view, unfortunate belief that good Christians do not “acknowledge and embrace negativity.” 

But the biblical lamenters – who wrote a full third of the Psalms – make an art out of our impropriety. They express desire for harsh vengeance (“Happy shall they be who take [the Babylonians’] little ones and dash them against the rock.” Ps 137:9); they make brazen accusations against God (“You [God] have renounced the covenant with your servant.” Ps 89:39); and they cry out in utter despair (“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” Ps 13:1). This is not how I was taught to pray in Sunday School. 

Lamentation even allows us to give up. Duff says it “allows us to rely on God and the community to carry forth hope on our behalf when we ourselves have no hope in us.”

 I know that my community here is NOT without hope and have already seen a vibrant strength in the midst of tragedy...but I am asking my broader community to carry forth the hope on our behalf, because sometimes even our most resilient faith can be hard to find.

[quoted text from Will Braun. full article here]

message to gringos

I picked up a book from the MCC office a few weeks ago titled “Don’t be afraid, Gringo.” It is a personal narrative of Elvia Alvarado, a Honduran woman who has dedicated her life to helping people in the rural areas of Honduras organize and fight for justice, mostly relating to land reform. She openly shares about the injustices of life for the rural poor and the terrible meddling of the United States in Honduras, sparked by the Contra struggle against the “communist” Sandinista government of Nicaragua in the 80’s.

This book is a fascinating read. Not only does it give an honest view of life in the campo (countryside) of Honduras, but shares one women’s astute perspective of government, politics, corruption and the economic disparity that exists in this country.

When I started the book, I was a little disappointed because it was based on interviews done in the early 80’s, and most of the data is also from that decade (when the book was published). I figured it would seem out of date and irrelevant to the Honduran context today. However, I quickly noticed that most of the stories that Elvia tells could be lifted right from the pages of today’s Honduran newspaper. The inequality between rich and poor, the corruption among government, military and police forces, and ultimately the siphoning of Honduras’ wealth into the hands of the few are all issues that still face the Honduran people today. Going into the more rural areas for my work with ACDIM makes me wonder “Has anything really changed in the last 25 years?” and then, tragically “How has nothing changed in all this time? Why are Hondurans still fighting for the same rights, the same rule of law and the same equality that Elvia struggled for in the early 80’s?

With so much foreign involvement in such a small country, it is depressing and frustrating to consider how little change there has been, especially for the rural campesino population. In this region alone there are development organizations in (seemingly) every community. Hondurans are used to foreigners coming in for a time, making promises, but never really seeing many results. A quote from the book that really impacted me:

Elvia, speaking about Honduran campesinos:
“We don’t need the U.S. money. We never get to see any of it anyway. What do you think that money goes for? To the foreign bank accounts of the rich, to line the pockets of our corrupt politicians, to give the military more power to repress the poor.
It’s the rich who need the U.S. aid, not the poor. We’ve lived for years with only our beans and tortillas, and we’ll go on living with our beans and tortillas. If the U.S. stopped sending money, it would be the rich who’d hurt, not us. They’re the ones who live off the dollars.”

It is a constant struggle to live here as a development worker for a foreign development organization and consider why things are not changing for those living in poverty…and why is what I’m doing any different than what Elvia speaks out against? And the problem is I don’t really have any answers.

I believe so much in the potential Honduras has to be a more equitable country, and I pray often that it could be a peaceful country, free from the extreme level of violence that exists currently. I know in my heart that no amount of microfinance programs to create small businesses will bring families out of poverty without more systemic change in the structures and practices of government. There will be no end to the drug war and gang violence until the corruption among law enforcement is mitigated. The fear that keeps people from speaking out against injustice gives the wealthy ruling class incredible power to keep doing “business as usual.” And it has to change.

“It’s hard to think of change taking place in Central America without there first being changes in the United States…So you Americans who really want to help the poor have to change your own government first. You Americans who want to see an end to hunger and poverty have to take a stand. You have to fight just like we’re fighting—even harder. You have to be ready to be jailed, to be abused, to be repressed. And you have to have the character, the courage, the morale, and the spirit to confront whatever comes your way.

If you say, “oh the United States is so big and powerful, there’s nothing we can do to change it,” then why bother talking about solidarity? If you think like that, you start to feel insignificant and your spirit dies. That’s very dangerous. For as long as we keep our spirits high, we continue to struggle…You also have to be clear about your objectives, about why you’re struggling. You can’t struggle just because someone else tells you it’s a good idea. No, you’ve got to feel the struggle. You’ve got to be completely convinced that what you’re struggling for is just

 …You have to begin educating people, telling them the truth about what’s happening in the world. Because if the press in the United States is anything like it is in Honduras, the people aren’t well informed. You have to teach them what’s really happening in the United States, what your government is really doing. And once you’ve educated people, then get them organized.

…we’re not asking for food or clothing or money. We want you with us in the struggle. We want you to educate your people. We want you to organize your people. We want you to denounce what your government is doing in Central America. From those of you who feel the pain of the poor, who feel the pain of the murdered, the disappeared, the tortured, we need more than sympathy. We need you to join the struggle.”
~Elvia Alvarado