Hungry, but for what?

"Hunger, that gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach,
"A constant reminder of the most cruel sign of poverty:
"Life longing to be nourished and fed.

"But where do I go when I hunger for justice?
"Is there enough food to fill the hungry heart,
"A feast where all are fed?

"Then I hear the invitation to sit down
"Around the table --
"A table with enough chairs for all.

"It is just a simple meal,
"A sacred meal of bread and wine,
"Blessed and consecrated as a sign of love.

"As one body we receive you,
"This bread that is broken and shared,
"Can break the boundaries of an unjust world.

"In the Eucharist we are formed,
"On mission we are sent to live justly."

-- Catholic Relief Services

I am writing this on Good Friday. I waited until today to write on this topic because I knew I would be experiencing a small degree of hunger today, the physical kind of hunger. Yesterday I attended Holy Thursday Mass, and so my own body and spirit are well-nourished. Today I fast, partially.

I awoke hungry and felt that gnawing ache. I ate a small meal of bread and eggs, with a few blueberries sprinkled in. I am allowed to do this, by virtue of age and a medical condition. I am fortunate to live in the United States, where, at least for now, I have access to necessities like food, water and basic medical care for as long as I have money to pay for them.

On Sunday, Easter Sunday, my family is coming for dinner. We will enjoy roasted chickens, vegetables and more. We are sharing with family. But I try to share with more than just family. I don't always do well at sharing, but I do try.

Last Saturday I spent the morning with some of my colleagues sorting frozen meats at our local food bank. It was heartbreaking to throw some of the food away, but for safety reasons, we had to. What good is food that, instead of nourishing a body, will make it ill?

We sorted about 8,000 pounds of frozen meat that morning. I was told it would be gone before week's end. People rely on this donated food to maintain their very lives. Many of them, most of them, are working poor. People who work as many hour as I do, or  more, yet cannot afford to feed their families. And that's right here in the United States, right here on the Shore where I live.

But as vital as the need for daily bread, there is a deeper hunger, one that is not so easily recognized. A hunger for God, for meaning, for love and peace. None of that can be readily found here on Earth. Yet all of it can be found here on Earth, if we but look in the right places.

Who teaches us to love? Who models the kind of love we yearn to experience? Where do we go to gain an understanding of true peace, and where does it begin?

The truth is, we yearn for things we have never experienced, never seen or heard or touched. Yet we know they exist. Some are convinced they are capable of grasping these gold rings on the carousel of life, on their own -- but can we even recognize them when we see them, much less reach out and pluck them off the tree of life?

As Catholics, we fast so that we might come to a better understanding of hunger -- not so much the physical variety, but the hunger for things this world cannot give us. We ponder how we might help others who are far away from our reach. We consider how even the greatest love we experience here on Earth -- perhaps the love of our parents, or the love we feel for our own children, or the deep and satisfying love of a spouse, the love we call friendship -- is but a pale shadow of the real thing. And we meditate on the promise that those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be filled.

No one of us can solve all the world's problems, can fill all the need or make all the sacrifices necessary. That is the realm of God alone. God could easily right every wrong, fill every need, level every mountain that stands in the way of our happiness and fulfillment, fill every valley of despair until no one would experience hunger, ever again, in any form.

But that's not what we actually need. We are struggling to learn how we can help each other, because that's what really matters. It can be friends and family, neighbors and strangers, doesn't matter. But until we learn to love one another, to share what we have with those in need -- joyfully and freely -- we will not experience that for which we hunger.

It's a hard lesson to grasp. We do the best we can.

And on Sunday, we will celebrate with great joy the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, who did  make the requisite sacrifices so that we can begin to understand what is required of us.

Imagine That!

S

At the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, he announced to his hometown synagogue that these words had been fulfilled in their hearing:

God’s Spirit is on me;

    he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor,

Sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and

    recovery of sight to the blind,

To set the burdened and battered free,

    to announce, “This is God’s year to act!”

For the last forty days, I have been reflecting how I have been called to act, as well.  How am I to preach the message--using words only when necessary--to the poor?  It's a question that has challenged me to stretch my imagination.  What more can I give?  What am I willing to sacrifice so that I can give?  Jesus gave up his life.  Am I willing to do the same?

I leave you with this poem as a reflection on what it might be like if all of us asked ourselves these questions.  Would this be God's year to act?   

Imagine the Angels of Bread

This is the year that squatters evict landlords,

gazing like admirals from the rail

of the roof deck

or levitating hands in praise

of steam in the shower;

this is the year

that shawled refugees deport judges

who stare at the floor

and their swollen feet

as files are stamped

with their destination;

this is the year that police revolvers,

stove-hot, blister the fingers

of raging cops,

and nightsticks splinter

in their palms;

this is the year

that darkskinned men

lynched a century ago

return to sip coffee quietly

with the apologizing descendants

of their executioners.

This is the year that those

who swim the border's undertow

and shiver in boxcars

are greeted with trumpets and drums

at the first railroad crossing

on the other side;

this is the year that the hands

pulling tomatoes from the vine

uproot the deed to the earth that sprouts the vine,

the hands canning tomatoes

are named in the will

that owns the bedlam of the cannery;

this is the year that the eyes

stinging from the poison that purifies toilets

awaken at last to the sight

of a rooster-loud hillside,

pilgrimage of immigrant birth;

this is the year that cockroaches

become extinct, that no doctor

finds a roach embedded

in the ear of an infant;

this is the year that the food stamps

of adolescent mothers

are auctioned like gold doubloons,

and no coin is given to buy machetes

for the next bouquet of severed heads

in coffee plantation country.

If the abolition of slave-manacles

began as a vision of hands without manacles,

then this is the year;

if the shutdown of extermination camps

began as imagination of a land

without barbed wire or the crematorium,

then this is the year;

if every rebellion begins with the idea

that conquerors on horseback

are not many-legged gods, that they too drown

if plunged in the river,

then this is the year.

So may every humiliated mouth,

teeth like desecrated headstones,

fill with the angels of bread. 

Martin Espada

Where have I experienced the darkness of injustice in my life?

If one member suffers, all suffer together...  I Cor. 12:26

How does injustice keep people in the shadows?

Soon another Feast came around and Jesus was back in Jerusalem. Near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem there was a pool, in Hebrew called Bethesda, with five alcoves. Hundreds of sick people—blind, crippled, paralyzed—were in these alcoves. One man had been an invalid there for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him stretched out by the pool and knew how long he had been there, he said, “Do you want to get well?”

The sick man said, “Sir, when the water is stirred, I don’t have anybody to put me in the pool. By the time I get there, somebody else is already in.”

How am I called to live in solidarity with my global brothers and sisters?

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?  MIcah 6:8

The Spirit of the Lord is upon you.  How will you respond?

The Spirit of the Lord is Upon Me

Keepers of Creation

"Gone are the days of the shovel and pick
"And with it the simple practice of extractives
"Replaced by big business and abuse.

"Removing the very heart of the Earth,
"The ores and minerals that leave behind
"Gaping holes, slag heaps and acid rain.

"Developing countries rich in natural resources
"Become the targets for the raping of the land
"Stealing away the very life of its people.

"Nothing green can grow here anymore
"Mining translates into increase of poverty
"And the question remains:

"Who is to blame?

-- Catholic Relief Services

Who indeed is to blame?

Can't possibly be us, could it? Why would we, who are 100 percent reliant on the Earth for our very existence, endanger it and thereby risk losing everything?

"Then God said: Let the Earth bring forth every kind of living creature: tame animals, crawling things and every kind of wild animal. And so it happened.

"God made every kind of wild animal, every kind of tame animal, and every kind of thing that crawls on the ground. God saw that it was good.

"Then God said: Let us make human beings in our image, after our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, the tame animals, all the wild animals, and all the creatures that crawl on the Earth." (Genesis 1:24-26)

And why would God entrust us with all of his creation, give us dominion over all life on Earth, and then encourage us to rape and pillage it? Answer: He did NOT expect us to do any of that. He expected us to respect and care for it just as he did when he created it. He gave the Earth to mankind and to all forms of life on Earth and expect us, as the pinnacle of his creation, to take care of it, to make sure that we were good stewards of his creation and thereby ensure that there would be plenty for future generations -- as many future generations as come into existence until the end of time.

And we are now escalating the pace at which our precious planet is dying. We couldn't be further from being careful stewards of creation. We are hastening its demise with our greed and sense of entitlement, our pursuit of profit, wealth and power.

Shame on us.

How am I called to care for God's creation? Do I reduce, reuse and recycle? 

What I am called -- what we are all called -- to do for God's creation is to take only what I need to use, and leave the rest in good condition for others who need it. I'm pretty sure I do not know a single soul who actual practices that. And our brothers and sisters in Third World countries might be said to live that way, but what would they do if they came here to live? Would they dedicate themselves to convincing the rest of us to live more frugally and gently, to stop polluting the Earth and stop using up resources that are desperately needed elsewhere? Living that way because you have no choice -- as miserable as that may be -- his not the same as making a conscious decision to conserve resources and live simply. Our Third World brethren are living better than we are, there's no question, in the sense of caring for the Earth, but given the opportunity, it seems likely many (if not virtually all) of them would change their ways.

Do I reduce, reuse and recycle? I reduce when I can, but must confess, I do not go out of my way to reduce. I do try to reuse some things, but could absolutely do better. I do some recycling, so that is becoming a habit -- we recycle newsprint, cardboard and plastic on a regular basis. We do not use a lot of glass anymore, but if we did, we would also recycle that. We could start recycling cans, and perhaps we will in 2015 begin adding that to our recycling heap.

In what ways do extractives abuse human rights and increase poverty in developing countries?

This refers to mining, in particular. And we do it in this country, too. We have based entire economies on mining operations. Take, for example, West Virginia, where coal mining has ruined much of the landscape in one of this country's most beautiful states. Not only does labor get paid woefully low wages, but the mining operations, much like today's controversial fracking operations, create pollution in the air, in water, the soil and anywhere else in the way. These pollutants threaten health, causing cancer, respiratory and other unspeakable health problems -- yes, in the name of corporate profits, but there's a larger issue: demand. Those low wages and pollutants make possible much of the lifestyle we enjoy today, including the technology that allows me to write and post this blog. Sadly, people in developing countries are also sacrificing their lives, in essence, so that we might live as we do, but they do not see any of the rewards.

In what ways does my lifestyle aid in the abuse of natural resources? 

We buy cheap clothing made in Asia and South America by low-wage earners. We eat food grown in those countries, and because we have the resources here to pay for it, we get their food in mamy instances, without realizing it or thinking much about it. And we throw away far too much of it, unthinking, uncaring.

Clothing, food, and then there's plastics, which eat up petroleum-based resources. We drive cars and ride buses and airplanes, and heat our homes and offices, all of which use oil resources.

Our parents used to tell us we should clean our plates at dinner because kids in Africa were starving. Well, they are, but unfortunately by the time it reaches our plates, our garages, our closets and offices, the damage is done.

The question is this: If demand for those things dropped, would people in those countries get to keep and use it? Or would they just lose their jobs and only source of income?

So our lifestyle here may aid in creating demand for goods that eat up the world's resources, but would reducing that demand really help any of those poor people in Third World countries? Recycling has become its own industry here. Maybe that's the problem: Everything has to become profitable to continue to exist.

How am I called to change my lifestyle?

Surely reducing demand would help somewhat. Reducing waste would have to help. Reducing reliance on technology like transportation that eats up the world's oil reserves and adds to pollution would be beneficial to all.

Should we move back toward the village concept, perhaps keeping the best of the technology we've developed but relying more on sustainable agriculture and industries and services that employ our neighbors and help sustain our own small corner of the world? Would that work, and how long would it take to get there?

We must all do our small parts, and the more of us who do, the better things will be. The only remaining question: Can we do enough in time to save the Earth? Now there's something to pray about.

"There is inherent integrity to all creation and it requires careful stewardship."

-- Catholic Social Teaching

Human Trafficking

The first time I heard about the sex slave industry was when John and I were on vacation in Vancouver BC.  Someone had left a book in our condo called The Natashas.  One evening, John picked it up and started reading.  A few hours  later I went to bed, and John was still reading. The next morning I woke up to find John asleep on the couch, the book lying on his chest.  He'd stayed up almost all night to finish the book.

Later that morning we walked over to a coffee house we liked.  We hunkered down with a couple of lattes, and I started reading it.  It was my turn to be glued to the page.  It was riveting.

Written by award-winning Canadian journalist Malarek, it reports on the recent wave of global sex trafficking since the break-up of the Soviet Union in 1991. It is a well-researched book filled with horrific examples of dehumanizing treatment of young women, some as young as twelve years old:.

• Somewhere between eight and nine hundred thousand impoverished young women are lured with promises of legitimate jobs throughout western Europe and America, only to find themselves trapped into a life of prostitution. 

• The Russian Mafia is a driving force in the sex slave industry.  But they are not the only ones to blame.  Even NATO and UN peacekeepers living in Bosnia after the war were known to be serviced by sex slaves.  Those who should be rescuing them--local police and international peacekeepers--are doing little or nothing to rescue them.

• Sex slaves are the third most lucrative commodity after guns and drugs.  

After we read that book, we couldn't get enough of books and movies on the topic. But then we realized it was time to put down the book and do something about it.

However, if you are unfamiliar with the topic, I would recommend a more recent documentary on the subject.  It's a movie called Tricked, released in 2013.  It's important because it brings the issue very close to home.  Like USA home.  When you watch it, you can't pretend the industry is just limited to the Russian mob and other crime organizations.  No, it's an American industry.  As long as we pretend prostitution is a tolerable evil or even a legitimate career choice here in the United States, we will continue to condemn the lives of many young men and women to a life of hell.  

How have you experienced the abuse of power?  What enslaves you?

Yes, I have experienced the abuse of power.  I was abused by a family member for many years both physically and sexually.  It's not something I like to talk about, but neither am I ashamed of it.

I will be forever grateful to those who helped me find freedom from what did enslave me--nightmares, flashbacks, dissociation, depression, anxiety, substance abuse, fear of intimacy, chronic pelvic pain.

Does my past still enslave me? Yes it does, the way an ache might remind you of the original war wound.

And believe me, what I went through was absolutely nothing compared to what those sold into slavery experience.

What other options are available for young women?

Since we were made of this problem, John and I have contributed regularly to International Justice Mission.  This is one of many organizations that combats human trafficking, and helps to rescue and rehabilitate victims of the sex trade.  They recognize that the cycle of poverty is largely the cause for trafficking.  They offer a number of ways to get involved, but we have found the best way for us is to contribute financially.  Our money may buy an after-care package for a survivor of sex trafficking or set up women in business so that making a desperate choice to survive is no longer necessary.

Wikipedia has a pretty good list of all the organizations out there right now doing this sort of work.  I encourage you to look through the list and see if one doesn't call to you.

What can I do to become aware of human trafficking?

The best way for me to become aware is to stay aware.  In addition to donating money to IJM, I also receive updates that tell me ways I can get involved in the fight for justice.  I'm also an IJM prayer partner.  Each week I receive an email with prayer requests for urgent needs.  I am so grateful that prayer changes things!

Why don't you listen to this song while you consider your answers to these questions?

Something Inside So Strong

I hear you knocking, but you can't come in

"Nothing tastes sweeter than the of your labor

Crops grown and cared for by your own hands
A harvest of hope for the farmer and the family she loves.

"But sometimes the harvest is bittersweet
Forcing families to migrate, to move beyond their own borders.

"It is not a new land they seek.
Who wants to be an allien or an unwelcome intruder? 
No, they seek only to make a life and a living rooted in justice."

-- Catholic Relief Services

In our country,  we like to talk about choices. We insist on our "right" to make choices for ourselves, we use the concept of "choice" to condemn people whose circumstances make us uncomfortable. We teach our children to make choices -- ideally, to make choices based on what is right and not wrong, but too often based on what will benefit themselves rather than the good of the community, and rarely, I fear, based on what is good for others who do not have the kind of choices we have. 

The very fact that we have such choices in the first place is a gift we rarely recognize as such in this winner-take-all, I've-got-mine-so-screw-you society we've created. 

We are, however, correct in recognizing the importance of choice itself. From the beginning, when God created Adam and Eve, he gave them free will -- the ability to make choices between good and evil, and guess what? It didn't take long for our first Earthly mother and father to make the wrong choice by disobeying their heavenly Father. We are, in that sense, following in the footsteps of our forebears.

Throughout Scripture, from Genesis to Exodus to the New Testament and Acts of the Apostles, we have received a consistent message: Welcome the stranger, show hospitality to all, and shake off the dust of anyone who does not extend that same welcome to you. 

Do you remember the first day at a new school or on a new job? How did you feel? Awkward? Withdrawn, trying to get a sense of whether you would be welcome, become part of the group? How did you react to a new person, once you were safely embraced by your peers? Did you seek to protect your own turf by being critical, standoffish or unpleasant, or did you go out of your way to make this new colleague or classmate welcome?

I recall some years ago when I heard a Scripture passage during Mass about strangers. I wrote a short column afterward, and I mentioned in it that if we all could only see Christ in every face we encounter, this would be a very different world. 

Little did I realize HOW different my own attitude was until I got a response from a reader that shocked me. The letter indicated that if we saw Jesus in one another, there would be rape and pillage everywhere, it would be a frightening and vicious world indeed. 

I scratched my head for weeks afterward (figuratively speaking), wondering what that person was talking about. All I could figure was that the reader thought that if we treated others gently, with respect and dignity, that we would become easy prey for those who would take advantage of us.

Perhaps that is the problem, at least in part. We are so suspicious of each other, so afraid that someone will get something they are not entitled to, perhaps that someone else will benefit from the fruits of our labors, that we cease to be human, in a sense. We want to decide who is "worthy" of our help, and make sure "those people" are properly grateful.

Even more years ago, I heard a talk radio show host talk about what "they" ought to do about welfare abuse. "Everyone who comes into a store and uses food stamps should have to go through a separate register, just for food stamp recipients, and then, before they leave, they should have to shake hands with at least one or more of us who use our own money to buy food, and thank us for providing for them." 

That was probably the last time I ever listened to talk radio. I was horrified. 

I was once one of "those people," because while I was getting the education I wrote about last week, I couldn't work, so I was using food stamps to survive. It wasn't a lifestyle for me, and I was very self-conscious about it, but I had no real choice. It helped me through that rough patch and got me back on the road to self-sufficiency, such as that is. 

We've all been that stranger, the unwelcome foreigner, the alien at some point in our lives. Maybe not to the degree that those we refer to as "undocumented," "illegal" or "migrant worker" suffer, but if you've ever felt like a fish out of water, think about how "those people" feel when they come here to escape violence, starvation or death threats, They are truly caught between a rock and a hard place: If they return to where they came from, they face continued starvation and possible death, either from deprivation or at the hands of their country's own police. If they remain here, the live in the shadows of mainstream society, never quite able to break into what America promises. 

Those are some things to think about when you encounter people who speak a  foreign language in our stories and malls. Instead of bristling, try a friendly smile or offer of assistance if the need seems obvious. They are us; we are them, but for the external circumstances into which we are born.

How has the economy affected the choices for my family?

Oh, where to begin? We've been poor during times of prosperity (which is difficult) and now we are kind of doing OK during a lengthy period when people are really suffering. It affected our lifestyle, limited our experiences, but always, always, the fact that we live in the United States (or perhaps just in a First World country) has given us an advantage over Third World denizens. We've managed to provide for the needs -- if not every want or desire -- of our children as they grew up, and we've been able to help them some as they struggle through young adulthood in a decidedly more difficult timer. 

Mostly right now, the economy has meant we work harder for longer hours at a time in our lives when we should be better positioned to begin winding down toward eventual retirement. My husband works seven days a week and is constantly on call. He works physically harder at age 64 than he did at 34. He comes home exhausted most nights, We don't really have much of a life together beyond sitting in front of the TV together a few evenings a week. As a result of his schedule and the nature of my job, I keep busy, partly to avoid the vegetating in front of the TV lifestyle as much as possible. He has not had a vacation of even a partial week in many years. We do not travel together anymore. He is too tired and burned out to get much done around the house, so many projects sit unfinished, languishing for years. All this just so we can pay the bills. 

Have I been forced to move in order to make a fair wage?

Thankfully, no, we have not been forced to move to make a fair wage. We are probably not making a fair wage by U.S. standards, but by world standards we are doing OK. We could both make more money if we left the Shore, most likely, but this is our home and we choose to stay. We are grateful to have that choice.

How can she survive when the crops do not bring a living wage in a land she calls home? 

Clearly she lacks the gift of choice that we still have in the U.S.A. She must do what she can, including leaving home, to survive and support her family if necessary. It is unconscionable that she must also endure abuse at the hands of wealthy, well-off Americans when she comes to offer her services in exchange for a living wage to send home to her family, or to support her family here in a foreign land. Surely we can do better,

How can I become more aware of economic immigration?

The only way to become more intimately aware is to get involved hands-on with immigrants. I am all too aware from a distance. I see these "others" in local Walmart stores, and sometimes at restaurants or the mall. I see them in church occasionally, especially at Easter during the Triduum when the entire parish celebrates as one. But there is relatively little mixing of "them" and "us" otherwise, and that's not benefiting any of us, really. What to do about it? That's the real question, something to think about. It can be as simple as smiling and trying to be welcoming in the brief encountersI experience, or it could be in the form of trying to convince others, perhaps in my parish, to do less separating (as in having a special Mass that's bi-lingual or all in Spanish) and more uniting (helping them learn and understand English, inviting them to be part of all the things the rest of us do as a parish?). It can be in the form of giving homeless or marginalized people back some human dignity by talking with them just as a matter of course, when opportunity arises. It's tricky, must avoid being condescending or expecting too much gratitude in return We must give with no expectations of anything in return, and we must remain humble in all that we do. 

  

Hope for the Future

One filled with prayers of joy and hope...

One overflowing with tears of an unjust world...

Who is full of joy and hope?  Who is full of tears?

The grandmother, certainly, is full of joy at the birth of her grandchild.  She is full of hope that this child's life will be different--better--than hers.

But couldn't she also be overflowing with tears?Tears of fear for this innocent, vulnerable life already suffering from the impact of injustice.  Tears of despair that things will never change.

Surely, the child is doing what children do best.  Crying because the need for food is constant, as is the need for warmth, shelter and love. It won't take long for her to understand what it means to be hungry, afraid, lonely or tired.  It won't take long for her to realize life is not fair.

But isn't the child also full of joy, smiling into the eyes of adoring parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters?  Isn't she hopeful that her needs for love and care will be met?  If not immediately, at least soon enough?  If not perfectly, at least adequately?

When will she realize that it doesn't take just a village to raise a child?  It takes the entire world.  Because, unless we reach out to her--soon enough and with adequate resources--the cycle of poverty will continue.  

And so will the tears.  

What are the hopes and dreams I have for the people I love?

The first thing that comes to mind is that I don't have hopes and dreams for other people.  I barely have them for myself.  This is a state of mind for which I have taken quite a browbeating over the years from my New Age sisters and brothers.  "You won't ever experience prosperity unless you can clearly visualize it and act as if it were already done."  

Proverbs says it more succinctly:  "Without a vision, the people perish."  

I get it.  I get that I live half my waking life in a panic.  I grab on to scriptures like this one, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope," like it was a life preserver and I am drowning.

The bottom line is, I’m not drowning.  I’m fine, and so are the people I love.  We’re living the dream, (even if it seems a little threadbare). I like to think that is why I’m not so worried about hopes and dreams for myself or others.

It frees me up to be concerned for those who don’t have the luxury to dream, who live in perpetual panic for good reason. 

How can I be a sign of Christ's love in this world?

This is not rocket science.  Christ has told us how to be a sign of his love in the world:  

“When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left. “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

“Then those ‘sheep’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’ Matt 25: 31-40

All that is left for me to do is stay awake to the opportunities.  It may be as simple as feeding my husband words of kindness, or my mother an afternoon of my time.  It may be stopping by to visit the good folks of L'Arche, who live across the street.  It may be donating old clothes to Goodwill and food to my church's food pantry. It may be sending a get well card to Sally, or cooking a few meals for Lucy while she recovers from surgery. It may be setting apart a percentage of my income for organizations that reach out to those who are caught in the cycle of poverty.

Whatever it is, it won't happen unless I choose to dream for those who cannot dream for themselves.

I'll leave it up to God to dream about me.

How can I change my lifestyle so that others may thrive and not just survive?

That's a hot topic in our household.  Driven partly by need, what with the downturn in the economy and us both being self-employed, and driven partly by a sense of justice, we have made continual adjustments over the years. 

We’ve become a one-car couple who bikes and walks whenever we can.  We buy  what we can of our food fair trade and from local sources. Our underwear is new, but that’s about it.  Most everything else we wear comes from Goodwill.  We’ve given up TV and limit our radio listening.

Lately, John and I have been exploring how to conserve water by saving our “grey water” for things like watering the plants and flushing our toilets.  But that won’t be the end of it for us.  Changing a lifestyle is an ongoing, dynamic process. It begins with a change of heart…forgetting the lie that you are poor, and that you need more things…remembering to be wealthy in all the ways that matter most.

Why don't you listen to this song while you consider your answers to these questions? 

Seek Ye First

'Teach me your ways, O Lord'

"When the school bell rings in the morning throughout the village, it announces an option for the marginalized. It proclaims a pathway out of poverty.

"Learning to navigate through the worn pages of a book, the words become an adventure, offering a journey of hope.

"But discrimination is the only word that some children learn. Access to basic education has a price.

"So does a lack of education. The cost: a human life caught in a cycle of poverty."

-- Catholic Relief Services

I knew this to be true decades ago, that education is the only reasonable path out of a lifetime of poverty. And at one time, America was a shining beacon, offering education and opportunity to all. 

Not so any longer. In my own community, right now, we have a government that sees investment in public schools as a drag on taxpayers, a squandering, if you will, of perfectly good money.

Today, a higher education -- a bachelor's degree or higher -- is increasingly out of reach for a shrinking middle class. Public school funding is being cut not just in our own community, but across the country, at every level. 

The one investment that could help lift our children and grandchildren out of a life of poverty and offer them the opportunity (those who would grasp that golden ring on the carousel of life) to not only earn more money, but to develop their potential, discover ways to better understand the world around them, to find something they are passionate about and learn how to use it to make a difference for others, to change the world. 

Yet we as a society are willing to deny young adults that opportunity? We are willing to settle for a mediocre educational foundation so that we can save money for what? 

How has education formed me into the person I am?

I was 22 years old, a single parent with a young daughter and little to no support from anyone, working at menial jobs and earning never quite enough to make ends meet. I recall applying for a government training program that would have given me some basic clerical skills and credentials. I was denied, because as the counselor informed me, I "already had a full-time job." Yes, I did -- in retail, making minimum wage. A co-worker of mine who had essentially the same job, even at the same retail establishment, also applied. She was single, living with her parents, no responsibilities, and earning the same money I was. She was given a spot in the training program. I cried in frustration. 

But finally I found another state agency that was willing to pay for me to attend a community college and earn a degree. I chose medical laboratory technology and graduated with a job at our local hospital, where I worked for seven years. 

Education had literally saved me again. 

I later went on to earn a bachelor's degree in elementary education, but worked my way through the remaining years of coursework while working at the local newspaper. I had by that time married again and was also raising two sons. 

I didn't end up becoming a teacher, except for a very brief stint, but that degree was my proof that I could accomplish whatever I wanted, within reason. It opened doors for me in the newsroom, and what I learned in both educational experiences helped me become who I am today by allowing me to prove it could be done. There was a time, between the two college stints, when I thought that if I ever won a lottery, I would establish a fund to help other single mothers earn a degree and find a new, richer and more prosperous life, just as I had. 

It didn't happen, But if I ever do win a lottery, that is definitely one of the things I would consider. 

I say consider, because unlike 30 years ago, a degree no longer is a guarantee of greater success or earnings on the job. A sad commentary on the state of our society, closing doors for people who have so much to contribute, given the chance.

How can education break the cycle of poverty for these children (see picture at top of this post, read quote next to it)?

Education can break their cycle of poverty the same way it changed my life. You see, education is more than just job training. You learn more about yourself, and you acquire skills that will help you throughout your working life. But you also widen your horizons, learn more about what is going on in other places in the world. You learn critical thinking skills, and you learn to evaluate, critically, what you hear, see and read in the news media. For these children, it would mean greater understanding of their own communities and the ability to improve their lot because of that understanding. It might be growing or establishing a business community, or it might mean agricultural skills, helping to feed their village or province. It might mean marketing what others grow, distributing produce where people who need it can buy it. It might involve creating jobs for others. Gasp--it is something that might catch fire and spread. 

In what areas do I need more information or education in order to make well-informed decisions concerning justice issues?

I would probably need in-depth examination of how Third World markets and economies work .And information about the state of education in those countries. And some understanding of how those markets/distribution networks operate. And most importantly, I would need to understand how those residents think and view the world, both their world and the entire Earth. 

And honestly, at my age and given my limited resources -- however rich those assets may look to someone who lives in a Third World country -- it is highly unlikely I could do much for them. I don't have enough money to stop working, even for a period of time, to go to Latin America, South America, India or Africa, or wherever such spare living conditions exist. I can't quit working to just go there and teach, which would be my best bet. Ideally I could go there and do what I do best, which is to write and tell their stories to the world. Help them see beyond their village and territories. 

And to love them. To learn to love them well, because until we do that, their plight seems disconnected from our own reality. When we love others, we become emotionally concerned with their well-being. We want to see them succeed, we try to help them up when they fall. We care, because we love. We love because God loved us. He loves us even when we stumble and fall, or deliberately choose wrong paths. 

But if I could, I would try to find a way to get them educated, those children and all children, so they can make limportant decisions about their own futures, help their own villages and families rise up out of poverty, start their economies moving forward, working for them. 

That could start a chain reaction. People who have been helped tend to be so grateful, they are willing, no, eager to go out and help others the same way. Not all feel that way, but enough do. 

And honestly, we could learn a lot from them, perhaps more than we can teach them. They live a simple life with few material possessions, occupying a small footprint on the Earth, living in small communities where life is intertwined, with each other and with the Earth. Those are big lessons for us who are so dependent on technology, who experience the world from a safe vantage point and increasingly do not directly engage others, instead living life as if it was a spectator sport. 

"Teach me your ways, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth." Psalms 86:11

Should We Help Refugees?

"When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong.  You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.  I AM the Lord your God."  -Lev. 19:33-4

"A refugee is someone who owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religions, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country.'" 1951 Refugee Convention

I wonder if our forefathers thought of these words from Leviticus when they landed on what we now call the United States of America.  Especially when the native inhabitants of this soil extended aid to us, when we were welcomed as strangers and sojourners without a home to call our own.

When I first moved to Chicago, I  hung out with Earth Wisdom, a community of people deeply interested in Native American spirituality and lifestyle.  We jokingly called ourselves the "WannabeeTribe," because we were all a bunch of middle-class white folks wanting to be Native American.

Our attempts were sincere, though, and well-grounded in connections with people like Ed McGaa. We hung out at Camp Ronora for vision quests and sweat lodges.  We gathered in friends' homes for drumming circles, potlucks, talking sticks and give-aways. I learned how to offer tobacco to an elder for a pipe ceremony, how to plant a garden according to the power of the four directions.  How to walk the Red Road, as much as a middle class white girl can.

One of my fondest memories of Earth Wisdom was the time Ed McGaa gave me a name during a Sweat Lodge.  My name is Tasweka Tate, which means "Dragonfly  Wind."  He chose if for me because he knew how much I loved Dragonflies.  He claimed it was my Totem.   It is especially meaningful to me, because that summer something magical happened, and it showed me the power of Native American spirituality.

I had gone biking by the lake on the Northwestern campus in Evanston.  I don't know the reason why, but dragonflies were swarming the coastline that day, literally being blown in from the lake into the trees and grasses that lined the path.  For a good fifteen minutes, I watched a sea of glimmering wings fill the air, like rainbows in flight.

Did the natives here see us as rainbows in flight, promises of peace, beauty and blessing?  Or were they frightened, finding hints of their demise in our eyes?  What an irony that the people who welcomed us as refugees became refugees, fleeing from us for their lives.

From what is it that I flee?  Where do I seek refuge?

Honestly, I'd like to flee from this topic.  The barest statistics overwhelm me:  According to the UN refugee agency, there are more than 50 million refugees, internally displaced people, and asylum-seekers in the world today.  It's jaw-dropping and heart-stopping.  How can I begin to respond?  HOW do I respond?

I take refuge in all the organizations out there who are doing refugee work.  I am very grateful for the hard work they do in helping people who are homeless and traumatized.  

I take refuge in the knowledge I am a citizen of a country not threatened by war.  It means I am living in personally peaceful times, and am free to use that time to help others in need.  It may not be a refugee from another land, but it may be someone who feels or is homeless in my own country.  

I take refuge in my parish.  I love the diversity I find at St. Eulalia's.  We're a motley crue of races, cultures, politics and sexual orientations.  I feel I experience a bit heaven on earth every time I go to mass. 

I take refuge in the Eucharist, where we are all made one in the Body of Christ, joined as one regardless of our race, creed, culture, sexual orientation,  or political position.

How does racial prejudice close the door of welcome?

Prejudice is the act of making general assumptions about a person or a community, based on limited knowledge.  It is like slamming  a door in the face of the other. 

It can have many affects.  The person who is being subject to prejudice may become defensive and experience shame, anger, sadness and withdrawal.  It also affects the person who is judging.  They miss opportunities to learn and grow.  If unwilling to learn about a different group, it can lead to harassment, abuse and violence.

Where is the hope for refugees who are left homeless?

I hope our government will repudiate the Doctrine of Discovery, which our founders used to justify destroying the nations that already existed on this soil when we arrived. Until we repent our own part in creating refugees, we will never be able to stop it happening elsewhere.  

As Jesus put it, until we remove the log in our own eyes, we will never see how to truly help others.  

As for myself?  

I hope that, when given the opportunity, I will welcome refugees as we were once welcomed. 

I hope I will see them as beautiful rainbows of Good News, bringing resources of heart, mind and culture that will help us grow the Kingdom of God here as is it is intended.

I hope I will follow the wisdom of the Dragonfly, whose gift is the ability to embrace change, transformation and adaptability.  

Finally, I hope I will remember the wisdom of Leviticus 19: 33-4.  Never forget what it feels like to be unwanted.  We don't need to be refugees to have that experience.  All of us have felt it in small ways in our lives Without these memories, we lose our capacity for empathy. Without empathy, there can be no true compassion.  

Why don't you listen to this song while you consider your answers to these questions? 

Hold On

Those feet are made for walking

These are the feet of Jesus, tired, dirty and aching.
They just completed a three-hour walk to get water for the family,
a trying journey for the most basic of necessities.

I look at my feet, and I think about the paths that I have walked
in comfortable, well-fitting shoes that keep out the dust and dirt.
Shoes that walk well-paved roads leading to life's abundance.

Nonetheless, while the paths we walk may look differently, our journey is the same ... to walk humbly with our God.
-- "One on the Journey," Catholic Relief Services

A few years ago, I read a book called "Sitting at the Feet of Rabbi Jesus" and then another by the same authors, "Walking in the Dust of Rabbie Jesus." Both books that talk about feet, and the journey we are all making to find our way with God. Feet were more important in the world Jesus inhabited as a man. Without feet, men were reduced to beggars who could only sit and ask passers-by for pennies.

In 1st century Jewish culture, sitting at the feet of a rabbi meant being a student, a devoted disciple. And walking in the dust of a rabbi meant being immersed totally as a companion on the journey. When Jesus told his apostles to shake off the dust of a town whose inhabitants rejected the message they had come to share about Jesus and God's love and mercy, he didn't mean they should just take a shower and head out. He meant they should not immerse themselves in that rejection, but instead continue on their journey, carrying out the mission he had tasked them with -- spreading the good news of his teachings to all who would be open to hearing it.

Today, we have modern medical science and engineering that has produced prosthetics and mobility devices, and laws that require employers to make accommodations for the handicapped. Instead of sitting on a street corner with a jar for coins, we try to give people whose feet or legs or hands may not function as intended an opportunity to earn a living, contribute to society and live with dignity. We try to show them respect just as we would anyone else. Not everyone embraces the opportunity, and some have more trouble than others stepping up to the challenge, but at least we don't reduce them to pitiful beggars asking for handouts in public -- although some still choose that lifestyle.

That's the good news. But it's not all good. Increasingly we see disparity in wealth, with immense concentration of wealth in the hands of relatively few people. Middle class families struggle to make ends meet, and hardworking people are just one accident or illness away from becoming those beggars who have nothing.

How are my feet the feet of Jesus that walk the paths of justice, mercy and humility?

I pay attention to the news. I think we live in a world -- an age -- when information is overwhelming and it can be difficult to sort through to glean truth and discard the rest. I live in a privileged society compared to the one lived in by the feet in the picture, no qsuestion about that. But like the middle class families I just described, we, too, are living on the edge. Balanced for now, but teetering on the brink of losing it all.

I still do what I can. Is there more I could do? No doubt. I intend to continue purging my house and trying to make sure my excess finds it way to someone who needs it. Someday perhaps I will have an opportunity to do something more hands-on, whether it be as a volunteer here at home or through an opportunity to travel and provide even more basic necessities to people who need it.

I haven't walked the walk of the man who walked three hours to get water for his family, but I have walked as a younger person in the path of need. I don't have a lot of material wealth to share, but I can do better at sharing what I do have -- compassion, companionship, and someday, more time.

How am I called to walk alongside my brothers and sisters who struggle for the basic necessities of life?

All I can do is try to be open, to recognize opportunities and when they appear, to seize them and listen, share, and embrace those brothers and sisters. The hardest part is to do so without being cynical, wondering if they are scamming me, to be thinking with part of my mind that they did something to bring on their problems. Perhaps they did. So what? We all make mistakes. Some of us are able to rise above them but not all of us manage to do so. To offer food, drink, clothing, those are things I can help with from time to time.

How do I live simply so others may simply live?

Now there is a challenge. I can live simply, and I am trying to simplify my life right now. It's a struggle unto itself. I could live a much simpler life, but how does that translate to enabling others to simply live? That's a mystery to me. We all think about what we'd do if we won the lottery, right? I've always thought I'd establish a scholarship fund to help young single mothers get an education, to help them lift themselves out of poverty and give their children a better life as a result. It's a nice dream, but let's face it, I'm not going to win a lottery.

So how does my living simply help others to simply live? It's hard to make anything happen if I'm the only one. It's only if overall demand for limited resources can be decreased in our country, and only if we then would somehow make sure that those resources were more equitably spread among the people who need it the most. It's not something I can answer right now, but only to continue praying about and hoping for clarity from God --  in time to take action and make a difference. It has to start somewhere, but it will take many voices, many sacrifices, done in a purposeful and meaningful way, for real change to take root.

Who's with me?

"... only to do right and love goodness ... to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

Health Care for All

Last night I had a dream.  In it, a friend from India told me we couldn't meet because her doctor had informed her she was "Eucalyptically Train-Stopped."

I woke up at that point. "Eucalyptically Train-Stopped," I thought.   "What ever does THAT mean??"

When I dream about plants, I always research their value both as homeopathics and as flower essences.  So I grabbed my phone, punched in "Eucalyptus Homeopathic" and waited for the results.

Very quickly, I made an amazing discovery.  This homeopathic is useful for both chronic sinusitis and the symptoms of food poisoning.

Now how in the heck did my dream not only know I was recovering from a cold AND food poisoning that week, but what homeopathic would be helpful???

A few hours later, I called Whole Foods to see if they carried that particular homeopathic.  When the answer was no, no worries.  I simply went to the website where John and I have bought other homeopathics and ordered it right then and there.  For $17.76.

Is that not a great story? Amazing? Doesn't it remind you of the age-old truth that God has always spoken to us in our dreams, guiding us in healing and wisdom?

Doesn't it also tell you I have electricity, money, access to a smart phone, a computer, Whole Foods in my neighborhood, that I can order anything I damn well please on the internet and expect speedy delivery, and that I feel totally entitled to these services?

Don't get me wrong.  I'm glad and grateful I'm getting this homeopathic.  I believe God wants me to have it,.  But I get a bit of a buzz-kill when I consider how easily it comes to me in a world where 2,000 children die every day from diarrhea, in large part due to unsafe water supplies and poor sanitation and hygiene.

Not to mention an appalling lack of Walgreens in third world countries.

How has access to health care helped me grow and develop?

I was raised by doctors.  I know about health care.  Every time I was sick, I could expect my mother to come home from the office and give me a shot of penicillin in my rump.

And you want to know how I felt about hospitals?  I thought of them as my second home.  Whether because I was hanging out in the hospital soda shop to be doted on by the shop clerk while my mother made her rounds, or I was wrapping my arms around a nurse's neck following my tonsillectomy, I always felt safe there.  It's where people went to get well when mama didn't have the right medicines at home.

I don't feel quite the same way about hospitals today, or traditional medical care.  My choice of health care is now primarily Complementary and Alternative.  I'd rather give flower essences, homeopathy, reiki, Eden Energy Medicine, nutrition, exercise and meditation a whirl first.   When and if that doesn't work,  traditional medical care will still be there.

Not that traditional care hasn't done well by me.  It saved me when I had an allergic reaction to sulfa drugs and went into anaphylactic  shock.  It helped me hear better when water was clogging my eardrums.  It helped me see better when it set a pair of nerdy-looking pointy-rimmed glasses on my nose.  It kept me from much worse when my surgery took care of an appendix on the verge of bursting.  It has restored pep and balance with a simple medication used to treat Hashimoto's disease.  It restored my sanity when well-trained doctors took the time to listen to me.

All of these benefits have enabled me to live, see, hear, learn, love and work.

What does the future hold for children caught in a cycle of poverty?

Let's not over-think the obvious, here.

It means basic needs for nutrition, clean water, education and health care will not be met.

Unless somebody does something about it.  Somebody like you and me.

How can I help provide a healthy future for all people of this world?

This is a problem where the only thing I know to do is throw money at it.  John and I have a little checking account we call our "tithe account."  Every month we put a percentage of our income in it.  At the end of the year, we donate it to International Justice Mission.  It's such a pittance, but it still helps to know we're saving someone's child from being sold into sexual slavery, and we're helping her mom start her own home-based business.

I mean, seriously. Me. I'm helping a woman in India start a business with my pittance. It makes me feel like Oprah.

It makes her glow with pride, and smile with deep relief, and thank God for me in her prayers with a gratitude you know I don't deserve. It's just a pittance, for God's sake.  A widow's mite.

Need a home for your widow's mite?  How about the Musana Community Development Organization?

Why not listen to this song while you reflect on your answers to these questions?

Those eyes, are they windows into his soul?

"These eyes have seen too much
Too much suffering and too much pain.
Everywhere there is devastation.

Looking out from behind the wall
Brick and mortar that was once a school
Longing to see the faces of family.

How could this have happened?
No warning of the impending disaster
Everything that was familiar is now destroyed

Even though separated by miles
Am I able to glimpse into his heart
And say, 'I understand ... I am with you.'"

What have those eyes seen? Surely few of us living in the United States today have seen such sights, such horror. Can we even imagine what it must be like?

When I was very young, we lived with the threat of an atomic bomb attack. Was that ever real? I have no idea. But we were told as young children that a bomb could be dropped on us. There were shelters everywhere, in school basements and public buildings. We were instructed about what we were to do to remain safe. Some families had underground bunkers stocked with food, water and other necessities.

But that attack never came. Not to us.

How is it that human eyes are so expressive? What can change in them? There is a spark, a gleam, that can be dimmed. It's hard to put into words, but fear, a haunted soul, anger, love -- they all shine through the eyes, giving us an immediate sense of connection or lack thereof.

What disasters have been unwelcome guests in my life?

The disasters in my life are what might be called "First World Problems." Ran out of money before the end of the month. Internet isn't working. Nothing good on TV tonight.

Or maybe a little worse: I recently feared I might lose my job, not because of anything I'd done wrong, but because things are changing. I survived that, but it was stressful.

Stressful? Ha! Compared to what this young boy has seen, hardly a disaster. I've faced minor illnesses, minor financial upsets (never been foreclosed on, like many Americans have endured). I still have a job, in fact, it's a better job now. We've had heating problems in the coldest part of winter this year. So we got chilly. We didn't have any frozen pipes, like many of our neighbors.

Honestly, looks like I have a lot to be grateful for. I should not complain, not at all. But I will, because I am human.

How do I stand with others amid the devastating storms?

Storms, like war, natural disasters, military coups?

I have to admit that aside from writing the occasional check to relief services or writing the occasional editorial about said relief services, not much. But storms closer to home? Yeah, I've done a few things. I have donated material goods to homeless relief efforts, and I went out with a group of friends who were trying to help the homeless in our own community to distribute donated clothing and food.

There are some who stand on street corners holding signs asking for help, but they are known not to be suffering all that much. One was followed home by someone to a middle class suburban home. Was he scamming those who were trying to help? Maybe. Or perhaps he really is down on his luck and just hasn't been put out onto the streets yet. But he's been photographed in a nightclub, drink in hand and pretty girl by his side.

Who knows? Is it better to take someone at his word?

Our city erected signs asking people not to give money to pandhandlers, because they are found all over the place near stores. Not sure it's the best way to deal with it, but whatever.

And there are so many agencies and charities and other groups who work hard to make sure help goes to those who truly need it.

How am I invited to stand in solidarity with others who suffer?

"Christ is hidden under the suffering appearance of anyone who is hungry, naked, homeless or dying." -- Mother Teresa of Calcutta

So that sounds like an invitation to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless and comfort the dying.

I guess there are many ways to accomplish that. I still admire what my friends are doiing, on their own, using social media to solicit support and donations. No cash involved, no questions asked. Just handing out clothing, blankets, hot food from a crockpot and when available, toiletries and other necessities. No questions, no background checks, honor system.

If it gets abused, the onus is on the abuser, the exploiter.

I do have a problem with panhandlers though. I don't know if it's something I need to overcome or just common sense.

I do more. I coordinate and contribute to a project started by a now-deceased friend. It's called HUGS, and it involves getting handmade scarves -- crocheted, knitted and sewn from fleece -- for children whose parent visit the Joseph House Crisis Center seeking assistance. The children are allowed to pick out a scarf and a book (donated by a different group). It's more than just giving children a colorful neckwarmer. It's supposed to also be a way to let them know there's a community out there who cares about them, who wants them to grow up strong (it's an acronym: Help Us Grow Strong.

We can be one on the journey, each contributing what we can, using our gifts and talents to help others, or at least to make their journey a little easier in some way. Small sacrifices.

There is a couple at my church who never pass by an opportunity to stop and help, never. They were late to lunch after the Rite of Election because they stopped to help a woman who looked lost, standing on a patch of ice on the sidewalk. The wife is going to be baptized at the Easter Vigil. They married after she entered the RCIA process, and for their honeymoon, they did missionary work. He is one of the kindest, most generous souls I've ever met and she is trying to learn from him. It's beautiful.

What about you, dear reader? I know I'm not resting on my laurels. I will continue to do what I can, which might be more than some, but less than others. But still one on the journey in faith through this life. Solidarity.