cold february night

It’s a cold night in February.  I’m sitting in my room, at my friend Laura’s house, under the quilt that my great-grandmother made so many years ago.  I still haven’t turned on the baseboard heater yet this winter, and probably won’t at all – now more out of stubbornness, and a desire to prove something to myself, than lack of necessity.  Sometimes the room gets down to 10 degrees celsius, according to the little thermometer that came with my iPod speakers.  Who knows why iPod speakers need to include thermometers.

Still, I’m thankful for the quilt.

I’ve been unemployed for five months now.  This is not something I confess with pride.  I came home from L’arche in September with such hopes for what my life would end up looking like, and tonight, I’m sitting in the dark cold of my bedroom, and realizing it’s not what I thought it would be.  Especially these last few months.  I look back on them and wonder what happened.  How did I end up here?

Where?  I guess that’s the question on my mind tonight.  Where am I? Where am I going, how am I getting there and most importantly, why?  I feel like all I’ve been doing is spinning my wheels.  My friends and family have noticed.  I feel stuck.

There, it’s been said.  Well.  Now that I’ve realized that, the most logical thing to do would be to stop for a moment and consider how best to get unstuck.  Continuing to spin my wheels, as any good Canadian driver would know, is only going to make the problem worse, whether it be mud or snow (though I’m not sure which it is in this metaphor).

So, I find myself asking, what do I want from life?  As I read back over the email I wrote after I made the decision to leave L’arche, this thought came to mind:

As stressful and demanding as the job was at times, I felt alive.  Maybe it’s just the season, but this winter has felt like something different.

To feel alive, these things I know:

- I want to find meaningful work.  This is a difficult task in Ontario’s current job market but not an impossible one.  It is not wishful thinking to believe that I can find work that will be life-giving.

- I want to give something to the community around me.  Volunteering at one of the many community outreach programs in Hamilton seems like the right step.  I think the city encapsulates the rawness I saw in the Maritimes, that quality of human existence we spend so much time trying to cover up.  Pursuing a Bachelors in Social Work is another step in this direction, one that I am considering.

- I want to increase the voices I have with which to express myself, specifically through music and writing.  For now this includes this blog, my journal, letter writing, playing guitar, drum circles, and singing (but mostly only when no one is listening).

- I want to increase my capacity to live at peace.  With myself, with others around me, in harmony with God and nature, and in the face of suffering and injustice.

My hope is that this post will be the beginning of a new direction for me, or perhaps, a return to a path from which I’ve been wandering.

the catalyst

There has been an incredible amount of fundraising for Haiti in the last three weeks.

Don’t get me wrong, I think all the fundraising and outpouring for Haiti is wonderful, necessary, just.

But, is anyone else slightly bothered by it?  I mean something seems just not quite right.

I don’t know if I can communicate this well, but what I’m trying to say is that Haiti was in desperate need before the earthquake, similarly so many places are now.  Yes, that has been magnified hundred fold or more by the devastation, and I’m not trying to negate this, but why does it seem to take a disaster for us to collectively notice the needs of others?

Can it be any other way?  Perhaps our society of immediate gratification and short attention spans makes it hard for us to think long term about the needs around us.  Maybe disasters like this one, the tsunami, or Hurricane Katrina, are necessary catalysts to wake us up from our slumbers.

I am not suggesting anyone stops giving to the Earthquake response and relief efforts.  I am suggesting we consider how giving, not just financially (there are countless ways to give time and energy when one’s budget is tight), can become a natural extension of our lives, both locally and globally.

a few more quotes

I can’t remember where I picked these up from, they’ve been hanging around on scraps of paper in my room, waiting for something to be said of them or done with them.  For now, I will share them here.

I am not so sure of myself and do not claim to have all the answers. In fact, I often wonder quite openly about these “answers,” and about the habit of always having them ready. The best I can do is to look for some of the questions.  – Thomas Merton

To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness… And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory. – Howard Zinn

on reading

A friend of mine emailed me and asked what I have been reading lately and as I typed my response to him, this poured out.  I found it entertaining, so I’ll post it here.  Disclaimer: it was late at night when I wrote this.  It is probably not nearly as clever as I thought.

It took a long time to get back into reading after school ended.  For so long I had to enforce a “no leisure reading till your schoolwork is done” rule.  Gladly, that is now over and I’ve been thoroughly enjoying reading again.  It took me a bit to stop reading like a student.  I mean to really savour and enjoy a book, still read it intellectually, but without feeling pressure to underline every possible quote that might support a controversial and ground-breaking thesis.  (Who am I kidding, nothing I wrote was ground-breaking.)

But yes, I’ve read quite a bit in the last few months – some Nigerian authors, a Margaret Atwood novel on totalitarian societies and feminism, more Flannery O’Connor, a few memoirs.  Now I’m working my way through The Covenant – a book about South African history.  I’ve just begun, but I hope for good things.

I think reading books is like eating.

Sometimes you just want to chow down on a Big Mac.  You know it’s gonna make you feel queasy and you’re always a little bit let down by the pleasure you think you’ll get from it, but it’s cheap and fast and greasy, even if you regret the choice afterward.

Sometimes you’re starving and just need to consume the first thing you find.  It’s in this state that old leftovers, peanut butter and jam sandwiches and that old dusty can of ravioli get consumed.  These things aren’t exquisite meals, and you’ve swallowed them down before you’ve even really tasted them.  But they do a half-decent job of satisfying the immediate need.  In fact, it would be a shame to eat anything else in this state.

But best of all is the homecooked chili – it takes time to really enjoy, and should be savoured slowly to enjoy the coming together of all the different elements.  If you chew thoughtfully you can really experience the separate ingredients as one.  You are left feeling full, nutrient-ed (yep, not a word) and thoroughly satisfied.  Even if the late-night challenge to your digestive system keeps you up.

Okay, so I’m stretching the analogy a bit here – but you know what I mean.  Sometimes you wanna read something the media flashes in your face, something quick and easy that leaves you feeling a bit dumber for it afterward.  And sometimes you just want to read whatever you can get your hands on, consuming it quickly without much thought.

But sometimes you want to read something thick and filling, that will keep you up at night and strengthen your ability to perceive, empathize.  It would be a mistake to read these books too quickly, you would miss more than half of what is being said.

Anyways…  I think all this rambling is a clear sign that I need to sleep. Or read. Or eat. I can’t tell.

My question for you is: if books were food, what would you eat for supper tonight?

a profound impact

When I was in grade eight, the rabbits at my school procreated.  This event has had a profound impact on today, January 20, 2010.

See, I asked my parents if I could have one of the baby bunnies our science teacher was giving away to good homes.  My mom thought our home was probably not a good home for a bunny.  For one, we had a large German Shepard named Petra, who would probably have terrified the poor bunny to death.  For another, my parents did not think being stuck with the responsibility of taking care of a rabbit when I hypothetically left for university four years later, would be their cup of tea.

But a pet, yes a pet, this was a good idea.  We just needed to find the right one.

So I went through a few months of wanting nearly every pet imaginable.  Fish, hamster, iguana, guinea pig, your typical standard pet shop critters.  Of course, we already had a dog, so I knew that I should stay within my limits and ask for something caged – perhaps a canary, or a turtle.

After a few months of negotiations, much to my surprise, my mom suggested that a cat might be the right pet for us.  A woman at her work was giving away kittens.  A kitten! Yes, this was the perfect pet for a thirteen year old girl.  A pet that required some responsibility on the part of her owner, yet was also independent enough to survive the decline in attentive care that inevitably settles in when a child owns an animal.  And a pet that my parents would enjoy having around and caring for should I go far away to school, like New Brunswick, for example.  Sadly, my grandmother’s fear of cats and my allergy to them stood in the way.

Imagine a child’s disappointment.  When my mom told me that we could not, after all, get the kitten, I was heart broken.  But then she offered the unimaginable.  A trip to the humane society to look at a dog.  To this day I still don’t know how I got so lucky.  I didn’t even have to beg or plead or promise anything extraordinary.  A dog was being offered to me.

The first dog we saw, Bandit, was beautiful.  An Alaskan Malamute, he stood taller than my waist on all fours and had sad gray eyes like a husky’s.  He had the fluffiest, fullest coat on any dog I had ever seen.  This dog was beauty and the beast in one.  When we found out he had been seriously abused, and had behaviour problems that were more than my family could deal with, again I felt crushed.

But the staff knew of another dog, one that was beautiful and smart and great with kids.  Her name was Xena and she hadn’t been at the shelter for very long.  She was a mutt, with German Shepard, Doberman and Husky in her mix – just like my mom’s dog Petra.  And they were right, Xena was beautiful.  She played well with my brother and I, and other dogs.  She had energy like crazy but could be obedient when there was something in it for her.  She was curious and mischievous and could wiggle her way into anyone’s heart.  We had found the right pet.

So we brought Xena home with us on March Break in 1999, called her Xena-Sasha for a few days, and very quickly, Sasha became part of our family.

This morning, I watched as each of my family members said goodbye to Sasha.  I carried her out of the van and up the steps to the vets office.  I held her as she took her last few breaths.  I cried into the fur of her neck, like I have on so many other occasions, as I tried to find the words to say my own goodbye.

All I could manage was “It’s okay, rest now.”

I love that dog.  It’s hard to believe she’s gone.

(Postscript: I expect another post will be coming soon detailing the curious and mischievous adventures of Sasha.)

remarkable

The thing is, after meeting Lisa, I started recognizing the humanness of people everywhere.

Sometimes I catch myself off guard by failing to see the homeless, the elderly, the disabled, the bad drivers, the immigrant, the cashier, the business suit, the bus driver, the mom who can’t control her child at the mall, the rebellious teenager, the snobby suburban young adult.

I’m finding I’m slowly beginning to see through the label to the person.

And people are everywhere.

I think this is what most of us are hoping for. To be seen. Validated.  Accepted.  Not as others wish us to be, but as we are.

Once you start seeing people, the thing that you discover is how remarkably fragile and, paradoxically, how remarkably resilient they all [we all] are.

bent hope

I admit it. I’ve been neglecting this blog.

I guess I hit a point in November where I was blogging so frequently, I started wondering if I was saying anything anymore.

I think it’s also because I was trying to process through some stuff that I didn’t quite have the words for.  The tangle of thoughts centers around this idea of bent hope. Have I mentioned bent hope before? I don’t even remember.  Here’s the background:

A year ago, at the beginning of the fall semester, I was on a plane with a friend from Toronto to New Brunswick, and she told me about this book.  I thought nothing of it.  People tell me about a lot of books, I rarely read them.  Being a university student, I had my own rather demanding book-list to work through.

But she lent me the book and I started to read it.  It was a collection of short stories, true stories, based on one man’s experience working on the streets of Toronto with homeless youth.  The stories captured my attention.  They seemed to give voice to the nagging ache in my chest that has encountered injustice and felt helpless, or just ignorant of a response.  I remember walking to school and feeling the rain soak through my sneakers and thinking about the boy in the book with cardboard shoes.

The book started me on a road of questioning that is still waiting, perhaps forever waiting, to be resolved.

How do we hope in the face of suffering?

This might sound crazy, or cheesy, or melodramatic, or what have you, but I’m going to say it anyways.  I think part of why the book hit me as hard as it did was because last fall, for the first time, I felt like I was facing my own, our own, mortality.   I had never known anyone who had died before.  Apart from the time my brother was hospitalized (and back then I think I was still too young to fully grasp what dying meant), I had never known anyone who really even came close to dying.  And then last year, all around me, I saw it.  Not death necessarily, but our mortality, our fragility – two deaths in my family, three serious car accidents involving friends and people I knew from high school, a friend diagnosed with cancer, a friend’s miscarriage.

I think the book hit me hard because I was already looking for a reason for our suffering.  All of this stuff seemed to be happening without apparent cause, without someone to hold accountable (by which I guess I mean someone to blame).  Stuff that seemed unjust.

I have never been very good at compartmentalizing.  So combine all that with courses in Native History, and an increasing awareness of situations in Burma and Sudan, and our recent Europe trip that included visiting a concentration camp in Germany.  I guess it all kind of gets wrapped up into this one large, overwhelming mass that screams ‘what the hell are we living for?’

This book kind of added to all of that, with stories of brokenness and fragility, and yet, traced throughout it, is this awkward, lingering idea of hope. Bent hope.  The author writes,

“fragmented glimpses of fragmented lives, where hope is anything but shiny and bright. unpolished. crushed. twisted. bent hope… but somewhere in the wrinkles of every brief account, hope continues to hum. it continues to breathe. often shallow breaths at best; even the faintest final breath, whispering one more note in the music of the soul. bent hope – inviting us all to be part of the music.”

I don’t (and he doesn’t) mean the kind of naive hope that sees a silver lining in every cloud or a rainbow after every storm. Sometimes storms come through our lives and they decimate us.  Some injustice is too evil to have a silver lining.

No, this was lyrical hope.  Hope that sometimes sounds more like lament.

Just before I stopped blogging I went down to Toronto to volunteer with Light Patrol, an outreach that was started by the author of the book.  They try to operate on the principle that what many homeless youth and adults need more than food or shelter is relationship.  Community. A chance to be more than just a face in a line with a need. (More on this later, perhaps.)

I met a girl named Lisa that night.  I could tell you what little I know about her story.  I could maybe tug at your heart strings a bit.  And although what you would feel might be similar to the initial, superficial impression I first had in meeting Lisa, what I was left with was this real deep sense of her humanness.  Despite her story (or maybe because of her story), she had maintained this… this realness, this aliveness.  This “yeah, the world is shitty sometimes, but we keep holding out for tomorrow”.  I don’t think I can even put a word to it.

Maybe the word here is hope.

But she was there.  Not another homeless person, not another face without a name or part of a socio-economic demographic, not a victim or an addict or a statistic.

Lisa.

I haven’t gone back yet.  I don’t know why.  I’ve made semi-lame excuses.  Perhaps it’s because the humanness I encountered in Lisa – the raw, edgy hopefulness she embodied – still scares me a little bit.

“Either we are all beggars, hookers, and junkies, or none of us are.” – Bent Hope, Tim Hufff.

the journey of a trafficked girl

A friend just shared an incredible video over facebook,  a powerful creative presentation on what it’s like to be a girl trafficked for prostitution.

You can learn more about the story behind the creation of this art piece here.

And if you’re looking for more information about the trafficking of women in Canada, this is an excellent resource.

I am looking forward to attending a conference in two weeks on Sex Trade and Trafficking in Toronto, learning more about what is happening and what is being done.

nonviolence, love and hope

I have become fascinated with reading the acceptance speeches of Nobel Laureates.  In the same talk by Walter mentioned in my post on The Good Life Part II, Walter quotes from Martin Luther King Jr’s acceptance speech.  As I read through King’s words, and hold the image in my mind of Nelson Mandela dancing in the documentary Amandla!, I find my heart filled with hope for Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and the people of Burma.  And for the men, women and children of Sudan.   The oft quoted words of Gandhi ring in my ears and resonate within my chest, “when I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it – always.”

Consider these words from King’s speech, delivered in 1964, while many African Americans were still facing severe persecution at the hands of racism and oppression:

Nonviolence is the answer to the crucial political and moral question of our time – the need for man to overcome oppression and violence without resorting to violence and oppression. Civilization and violence are antithetical concepts. Negroes of the United States, following the people of India, have demonstrated that nonviolence is not sterile passivity, but a powerful moral force which makes for social transformation. Sooner or later all the people of the world will have to discover a way to live together in peace, and thereby transform this pending cosmic elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. If this is to be achieved, man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.

I refuse to accept the cynical notion that nation after nation must spiral down a militaristic stairway into the hell of thermonuclear destruction. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. I believe that even amid today’s mortar bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow. I believe that wounded justice, lying prostrate on the blood-flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men. I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits. I believe that what self-centered men have torn down men other-centered can build up. I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed, and nonviolent redemptive good will proclaim the rule of the land. “And the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid.”

So I ask you, can the power of love conquer the love of power?

I plan on posting my thoughts on this question very soon.

Here’s a link to the full speech if you’re interested (the same website has a whole host of speeches worth perusing).

And here’s the clip of Nelson Mandela dancing from the documentary Amandla!:

the good life II

If you missed part one, you can read it here.

So the good life has to be more than striving for material possession and comfort.  The ‘good’ life that advertisements and shopping malls offer, the life of convenience, disposability, temporary satisfaction quickly replaced by worn out, discarded or forgotten purchases, and the notion that patriotism is linked to consumerism, should be seen for the lie that it is.

And as much as we’ve heard this time and time again, I think we’re all susceptible to it.  I know I am.  I get sucked in.  So maybe I’m repeating myself too often, but I need the constant reminder.

Perhaps by the good life, I mean the peaceful life, the fulfilled life, the meaningful life.

Shortly after I arrived at L’arche in Cape Breton, I found out that L’arches in Ontario pay substantially more to their employees.  Honestly, my first gut reaction was “why didn’t I do my research?”  I could have been doing the same work for a lot more money in places that had places to spend money (which rural Cape Breton doesn’t have a lot of).  I started imagining what I could buy if I was being paid the Ontario wage instead of the Nova Scotia one. A bike, or a kayak.  More trips to Halifax or St. Stephen.  New books and clothes and movies and music.  Maybe even a car.

But as I thought about it some more, I realized the reasons I had chosen to come to L’arche had nothing to do with money.  I had come looking for something, yes, but it wasn’t material.  I was looking for peace, for grace.  For hope.  I wanted to learn how to cultivate these things in my life and the people I was living with were showing me how on a daily basis.

This is a long, roundabout way of saying that I think part of the good life is about desiring other possessions, immaterial ones, qualities and characteristics instead of objects that we try to hide ourselves in or behind.  Maybe it sounds cheesy but when the thought hit me, it significantly changed what I was working towards, what I was working for.  We all do jobs to get a paycheck because we need to eat, pay student loans and rent or mortgages, and I understand that.  But I think my life begins to have more meaning when the things I am striving for are cultivated not bought.

Walter Thiessen (a professor at my university) talked about this idea in his talk on The Good Life, which was what sparked most of this thinking for me.  He asks what we are building towards, cultural conceptions of the good life (security, comfort, power, luxury) or godly ones (peace, grace, hope, love)? It’s worth listening to the whole thing (free online!) if you’re interested, but what I wanted to highlight most is  one of the characteristics he outlines as necessary for the good life.

He begins with this proposition:

“I think that if we don’t get a better picture of what the good life is meant to be, we will often find ourselves seeking and building lives filled with stuff, with over-consumption, with self-centered thrill seeking, with power, luxury, with laziness and ease and/or sterile and frantic efforts at safety and security, which will inevitably turn out unjust, destructive, empty and lifeless.”

So if not this, then what?

With all of this stuff aside, what are we hoping to build towards?  What will lead to quality, depth and richness?  What does a good life require?  We want a quality, rich life.  I think some people get worried that seeking the true ‘good life’ requires giving up happiness.  I think they start to picture old men like Wendall Berry and Henry David Thoreau, living isolated, lonely lives in shacks in the middle of the woods, with no one to talk to but the birds and the wind.  I think they might think that to deny the consumerism of our society is to deny having our needs and desires fulfilled.

Walter lists four qualities of the good life, all linked with the Hebrew concept of shalom, and all under the umbrella of interconnectedness.  It’s important to recognize that the good life is holistic and unified, rather than separated, individualistic and fragmented.

The first characteristic is what most caught my attention.  Harmonious relationships with people, God and creation.  This encompasses the notion of community that we all hope for but often fail to build when we get caught up in our culture’s ideals (hence the prevalence of loneliness in our society).  This desire for community is why funny little places like SSU exist.

I especially appreciate the message that harmonious relationships with people encompasses all people, not just people we easily find ourselves at peace with. We must recognize that harmony is not sameness.  A harmonious relationship then, is one that compliments both/all aspects or individuals.  (And in our postmodern context, even dissonance can be considered harmonious.)  This is not a denial of the differences that exist between us, it is an embracing of it.  I am reminded of Jean Vanier’s words, “real peace implies something deeper than polite acceptance of those who are different. It means meeting those who are different, appreciating them and their culture, and creating bonds of friendship with them.”

I also think it’s important to add one other to this notion of harmonious relationships, to live at peace with ourselves.  This is perhaps the most difficult at times.  It requires accepting one’s story, with all its struggle and pain, and joy and triumph, and being grateful for the place it has brought you to.  (But more on this in another post coming soon.)

Walter continues, listing freedom from fear, good work and good leisure as important aspects of the good life.  It’s worth listening to the talk in full for more detail about all of this.

Obviously, there is a lot more I could say about the good life.  It is a topic too broad for a few measly blog posts.  Perhaps I will pull enough thoughts together to warrant a part three, particularly tied to some ideas from Zoe Fitch’s thesis exploring quality of life compared with quantity of life, and how that relates to non-violence.

But for now I leave you with the hope of finding meaningful work and deepening relationships each day.

kiva!

After posting the list of documentaries, I decided I wanted to post about some of the social justice organizations I am learning about and trying to be involved with.  I’m going to do this as a series of posts rather than one list, because it allows for infinite additions and it’s just easier to tackle one at time.

First up: Kiva.org, loans that change lives.

If you’re still not sure what microfinance is, consider reading this. Kiva is the first website to let individuals with resources (like you and me) loan money to low income entrepreneurs in developing nations through existing microfinance organizations.

The way it works is you read through some profiles and choose a person that you want to invest in.  You lend them money (say $25) and together with other loaners, you match his or her need.  The money is disbursed through an existing microfinance organization in his or her region.  As they pay that money back (most repayment plans are 6 months to 1 year), the money you lent to them is returned to you, and you can choose to loan it to another entrepreneur, withdraw it to use for something else, or donate it to Kiva to help them cover their operating costs.  I personally like the re-loan option best.

This is why I am still supporting Kiva Gift Certificates in my quest for a buy nothing Christmas, because it allows the recipient of the gift certificate to re-loan the money again and again, a gift that keeps on giving, so to speak.

I especially like Kiva because it reminds me to look for hope in the individual.  Yes, the problem of poverty is overwhelming, but slowly, one person at a time, we can be part of changing something.

No More Christmas

I just finished watching another documentary.  This one, sent to me by my friend Margaret, is done by a group of creative performance protesters who travel across America as Rev. Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping.  Yes, some Christians are bound to be offended by this, but I think it’s become apparent that shocking messages are the only ones that get through to a culture so numbed by advertising and entertainment.

The documentary is called What Would Jesus Buy? and you can watch it free online (90 mins).  In fact I hope you do watch it, even if you just watch a half hour or so, especially before you begin your Christmas shopping this year.

My favourite line: “you don’t need to buy a gift to give a gift.”

I feel anxious and unsettled most years as the Christmas season approaches, and particularly in those first few weeks following December 25th.  This is the earliest it has ever set in for certain.  The anxiousness comes from recognizing that as much as I try to be conscious of my consumerism, I am as much a product (yes, a product) of my culture as the next person.  I am sucked in by the advertisements, the discounts and the cheap and dirty happiness that shopping offers.  Of course we all know, this happiness isn’t real.   But are we doing anything to change that?

I attended a church service last Sunday, something that I don’t do very regularly, and noticed that on my seat was a little flyer advertising a Ten Thousand Villages Sale.  I love Ten Thousand Villages.  I love supporting artisan groups from developing nations with living wages.  But I was so disturbed by the headline on the flyer: “O Come All Ye Shoppers”.

I don’t want to be part of your target market.

When I was 17, I spent a week before Christmas in Nicaragua with Operation Christmas Child (the organization that collects gift-filled shoeboxes for kids in developing nations).  I was amazed to see the plastic Santa Clauses adorning the stores in the capital city, a city where huge numbers of children will wake up on December 25th, with no gifts, maybe even no food.  Like every other day, the children at La Chureca (the city dump) will sort through garbage looking for anything they can salvage or sell.  Exposed to dirty needles, toxic smoke from burning garbage and wild dogs, not to mention whatever disease float in the water that runs off the heaps of trash into their drinking water.

How can we tell our children that Santa brings gifts to children all over the world?

We need to be reminded that Santa is a lie.

Last year I celebrated Advent for the first time.  I am still very new to the tradition and am looking forward to rediscovering it in new depth this year.  I am looking forward to enjoying family holiday traditions (and maybe even starting some new ones) with my parents and my brothers, my sister-in-law and my niece.  But I think I will have to apologize to them because I can no longer participate in the consumerism of Christmas.

In the celebration of Advent I find hope.  In Advent I find a real acknowledgment that we, humanity, are lost without a saviour.  A saviour who, I think, would have nothing to do with the man in the red suit, placed into our imaginations by Coca-Cola, who’s only role is to convince our parents (or us) to buy, buy, buy.  In the celebration of Advent, I find giving.  Giving of ourselves instead of our credit cards.  In Advent I find time for remembrance and reflection, for gratitude and my family.

I am looking forward to the season of Advent, to learning more about its celebration and traditions.  I hope you’ll let me share them with you as I learn.

(I recognize and respect that everyone has different values and opinions about what Christmas means.  I don’t mean to offend anyone or belittle anyone’s traditions, especially my own family’s.  I do hope to cause all of us to think about whether we need to spend money to show love, or to celebrate Jesus or family.)

Conversation on Darfur

I just heard about this, so I’m sorry for the last minute news.  But for those who see this in time and are interested, there’s a webcast event happening today where Save Darfur (an organization working for peace and justice in the conflict area of Western Sudan) will sit down with representatives from the White House (Scott Gration and Samantha Power) to talk about approaches for peace.  They’ll be taking questions, so join the converasation at 3:00pm EST today, by clicking here.

The following is from Causecast’s article on the event:

Recently, the Obama administration unveiled the government’s new strategy for dealing with the Sudanese government and addressing the ongoing humanitarian crisis in the Darfur region. To keep the ball rolling on a national conversation about this important topic, and to engage Darfur activists and the general public alike, the White House will be hosting a national discussion on Darfur. On November 10, government officials and nonprofit leaders will come together for Ask U.S., a nation-wide question and answer session about Sudan and the Darfur conflict.

advent conspiracy

The mall across the street from my house put up their outdoor christmas decorations this week.  Isn’t it a little early to be diving into the consumerism of December 25th?  Yes, yes, I know Christmas is about so much more than shopping, but if are highest priorities are what we put the most time, energy and money into, than I think it’s safe to say that most North Americans put more into shopping for the Christmas season than they do on any of the other stuff (family, love, peace, hope, service to others).

I was intentional when saying service to others rather than giving to others because it’s too easy to get confused and think that giving requires spending money and the acquiring of material possessions.  I think there is a better form of giving, one that requires time and energy and sometimes stretching beyond comfort levels.

This video does such a good job of saying what I mean (and is actually where I started gleaning these thoughts from):

Consumerism ≠ Meaning

If you’re looking for a great alternative to buying more material possessions for someone who already has more than they will ever need (such as myself), consider Kiva gift certificates!  (Follow the link and click Kiva Gifts, near the top of the page.)  The idea is that you give a friend or family member a gift certificate that lets them lend the money to an entrepreneur in a developing country.  The entrepreneur uses the loan to grow their small business, and when the money gets paid back (usually in 6 months – 1 year) your friend can choose to reloan it to someone else or withdraw the money and use it for something else. (I personally like the reloaning option).

And if you haven’t heard of Buy Nothing Day, take a look at this website and consider re-evaluating your Christmas shopping and gift-giving plans.  (After working at Canadian Tire over one Christmas season, I realized the amount of money we spend on decorations is completely mindboggling! Surely we can think of things our money should go to more than another box of decorations.)  Maybe you don’t want to have a complete Buy Nothing Christmas, and that’s okay, but if you can, start looking for some things that you normally would spend money on that you don’t necessarily need this to buy this year.  I’m sure everyone can find gifts to give (and to ask for) that are based in something other than material want.

tester

“if there ever were a tester movie, this is the tester movie, there has never been more of a tester movie than this tester movie.  this is not a chester movie, this is not a bester movie.  this is a tester movie. oh yeah.”

***this might not make sense to you if you do not know margaret sider personally (or her extreme obsession with photobooth).

the good life

Do I repeat myself a lot?  If I do, I think it’s because all these topics are things I am still thinking through, still trying to firmly grasp.  And this blog is a place for process.  Hopefully it can increasingly become a place for conversation.

Anyways, thanks for letting me have a little piece of cyberspace (honestly, who still uses that term?) to process these thoughts.

So, the good life.  This is something I’ve been trying to work out for a little while now and I have a lot of random threads that I think connect, so I’m just going to throw them out there and see if I can create a web of some sort.

The first thread is a frustration, as usual, with our society.  We like to strive for the comfortable life.  We somehow think that is connected to the good life. My problem with this stems from the relativity of comfort.

When I was in high school we used to play a game called President (also called janitor, also called asshole).  The best times were when the furniture was re-arranged around the room so that the President would always get to sit in the comfiest chair, the middle folks on the couch, the lower folks on kitchen chairs, and the janitor/asshole had to sit on the floor.  The couch was more comfortable than the floor or a kitchen chair, but not as comfortable as the recliner.  And of course, if whoever owned the house would just go out and buy a better, even more expensive chair, the president’s life would be better.

But would it? Is comfortability really linked to our quality of life? I suppose you could argue that on a more comfortable bed you would get a better sleep, which might make life better. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Comfortability will always be relative.  We will always be able to be more comfortable than we are now.  There will always be other people who are more comfortable than us.  Look at the convenience of his/her/their life compared to me.  I don’t have a car, I don’t own a house.  My life must not be as good as theirs, because it’s not as comfortable.

Unless we change our definition of comfort.

Yes, living in North America means we live rather comfortable lives.  We have a lot of things that make our lives more convenient (like disposable everything).  I wonder how often we stop to consider how the comfort and convenience of our lives discomforts and inconveniences the lives of others (like the kid who was exposed to sterility-inducing pesticides, paid starvation wages, and worked 14 hours a day to pick the mangoes I put in my smoothie tonight).  I’m not suggesting we all adopt extreme asceticism but I do think we (including myself) need to more frequently consider the impact of our purchases on who, where and how.

And I do think we need a new standard to measure the good life.  Otherwise the kid who sleeps on a bare dirt floor and walks ten miles to school could never possibly be happy because by our standards his life is anything but good.  But I think he would disagree.

I have more I want to add to this, particularly a reflection on Walter Thiessen’s teaching on The Good Life (a sermon I heard back in January of this year which sparked my thinking about this theme), and a reflection of quality of life verses quantity of life from Zoe Fitch’s thesis presentation in April.

So look for part two later this week.

In Response to Hope and Despair

Last night, after writing “beauty and agony”, I was reminded of this post, which I originally wrote for Margaret Anne’s postmodernism course.  It was in response to a quote M.A. posted by Thomas Merton which read,

“The only thing to be regretted without qualification is for [us] to be perfectly adapted to totalitarian society. Then [we are] indeed beyond hope. Hence we should all be sick in some way. We should all feel near to despair in some sense because this semi-despair is the normal form taken by hope in a time like ours. Hope without any tangible evidence on which to rest. Hope in spite of the sickenss that fills us. Hope married to a firm refusal to accept any palliatives or anything that cheats hope by pretending to relieve apparent despair.”

Here was my response:

March 6, 2009

In Response to Hope and Despair

Despair is something I have become more acquainted with in the last few months, beginning before Postmodernism was ever listed on my timetable, but certainly strengthened at times by the content and implications of our class discussions. I remember reflecting last semester on Annie Dillard’s analogy of an inner bell, hung inside her chest, which she describes as tolling “a long syllable, pulsing ripples up my lungs and down the gritty sap inside my bones…I felt the voiced vowel like a sigh or a note but I couldn’t catch the consonant that shaped it into sense” (266). I have become increasingly aware of my own ‘inner-bell’ as I have struggled to come to terms with a world that rarely meets my expectations for truth, beauty, or justice.

Yet after reflecting on Merton’s quote, I am forced to engage with the continuation of Dillard’s analogy. A few pages later, after watching a maple key fall from a tree, she continues with the imagery of this inner bell, saying “and the bell under my ribs rang a true note, a flourish as of blended horns, clarion, sweet, and making a long dim sense…” (273). After spending a few days visiting the L’Arche community in Cape Breton, I feel as though I have been able to return to my own community with renewed hope, and with that the possibility of acknowledging the truth, beauty and justice that encompasses our daily interactions (even as they lack definition or quantification). As Merton suggests, the ill-at-ease feeling received from a close analysis of our consumeristic society is in itself a sign for hope, because we are at least aware of a problem and at best aware of the possibilities for growth.

As an example, one of the questions raised by the postmodern ideal of multiversity is the possibility for a Universal Absolute God. I brought this question up in a recent discussion with Luke Wilson, after which we concluded that the process of searching for God is in itself cause for hope. (This all sounds vaguely reminiscent of some philosopher who said our idea of God is proof of his/her/its existence since God equals that which no other thing could be greater, and a God in reality would be greater than an idea of God.) But what I really mean to say is that I am learning to find hope in the questions, in the ache, in the despair – to be okay with being unsettled and restless because there is a lot about which we should be unsettled and restless. And as Dillard illustrates, the same bell that tolls our despair can also ring when encountered by truth, beauty, or justice, present in the world if sometimes only in those who feel sickened by their absence.

Post-script: all that being said, I am not only saddened by our world.  I am also amazed, in awe. Yes, sometimes in the same breath.  Consider for example the incredible number of NGO’s and non-profit organizations that currently exist.  I started thinking about this after writing the first post that kicked off this blog, reflecting on We Day 2009.  The number of NGO’s and non-profits is both incredibly sad, because it points to the fact that there is such great injustice which needs to be overcome, and incredibly hopeful, because it shows there are huge numbers of people who are willing to put their time, money and energy into doing something about all that injustice.

As a sidenote, I sometimes wonder if the hundreds of little non-profits would be more effective if they pooled their resources and joined together under one banner, for one cause.  But I think movements always begin as grassroots initiatives, and though we might not be able to throw all the metaphorical starfish into the sea, at least we can save just one.  And I think if you imagine all the good (despite some of the damage) that is being done by all the people fighting for justice all around the world, you are left with a powerful image of hope that rings true deep inside your chest.

beauty and agony

Before you read this, you should watch this video.  Don’t just watch it, listen to the words.

(If you are a fan of Dave Matthews Band and you haven’t heard their new album, what are you waiting for? And if you aren’t a fan, it’s about time you should be.  But as usual, this post isn’t about that.)

Joel Mason said something during his alumni induction speech at St. Stephen’s University, Class of 2009 Convocation ceremony that has stayed with me ever since.

“As you already know, the world is wide and full of beauty and agony.”

It’s true that we all know this.  We all experience joy and pain, sometimes in the same breath. But I wonder if we all know this.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I think I’m only beginning to grasp the depth of its meaning (and I doubt I’m at the stage where I can truly communicate it).

I took a course in first year called Theological Reflections on Suffering, and to be honest, despite the excellent teaching and reading materials, I came out of the class with no answer to the question of why we suffer.  And that really deeply bothered me, and it still does sometimes.  Because I am so saddened/angered/grieved by what I see as a lot of mindless suffering in our society and in the world.  Perhaps my ideals are just too high.

But I think I am starting to understand, at least in part, what Joel was communicating.  The world is wide and full of beauty and agony.

I think they walk hand in hand, beauty and agony.

It’s only when you are able to see one that you can see the other.  If it weren’t for beauty, I would not be disturbed by agony.  If I didn’t believe justice, peace, hope were possible for humanity, I would not be grieved by their absence.  And the reverse must also be true, if it were not for the pain we experience, how could we experience beauty.

Kahlil Gibran (early twentieth century poet) wrote:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.  And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.  And how else can it be?  The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.  Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?  And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?  When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.  When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.  Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”  But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

I know a few people have been trying to tell me this for a long time, but I think it’s the kind of lesson that gradually sinks in over time.

And I think Joel is right, we already know this.  Deep inside, we understand this.  We just need to learn to be more aware of it.  And I think that takes ‘living awake.’  Some practical types might not like that phrase but I’ve grown accustomed to it.  To me, it represents being present to the moment and aware of ourselves, our surroundings, and other people.  It’s so easy to hit auto-pilot and start to coast.  But to truly see beauty and agony all around us, we must wake up. (But more on this in another post.)

In the end, we are broken.  But this is what makes us beautiful.  This is what gives us hope.

Soren Kierkegaard read my mind.

I read this quote tonight.  It’s from Soren Kierkegaard, but I think he might have stolen it from me:

One sticks one’s finger into the soil to tell by the smell in what land one is: I stick my finger in existence—it smells of nothing.
Where am I?
Who am I?
How came I here?
What is this thing called the world?
What does this world mean?
Who is it that has lured me into the world?
Why was I not consulted, why not made acquainted with its manners and customs instead of throwing me into the ranks, as if I had been bought by a kidnapper, a dealer in souls?
How did I obtain an interest in this big enterprise they call reality?
Why should I have an interest in it?
Is it not a voluntary concern?
And if I am to be compelled to take part in it, where is the director?
I should like to make a remark to him.

Source: Repetition, 1843

venting two beefs with the media

Just a few small snippets of my opinions about recent news events.

the fort hood shooting

I don’t have any comments on this tragedy, other than to say this: I just read this article and I’m frustrated by one woman’s comment, “I cannot comprehend that the enemy was among us.”  Here is my problem, I agree that anyone who shoots 30 odd people becomes someone’s enemy, but when you use a definitive phrase like “the enemy” I think it raises certain connotations, considering the suspect is Muslim, which may very well be unfair assumptions.  The truth is we don’t know his circumstances or his reasons well enough to group him in with a category like “the enemy”.  And my frustration with this goes further because I don’t think anyone can really say that there is one, definitive enemy of anything, be it a person, a country, a religion. But moving on.

h1n1 clinics

There was an article in the Hamilton Spectator today that voiced frustration because the city of Hamilton withheld information from the media regarding the number of confirmed cases of h1n1.  Someone claimed this was because they did not want to create fear with the possibility of vaccine shortages.  I have a couple concerns about this.

First, if the media controls our information, do they control us?  I certainly believe that media attention has contributed to the fear people have about this virus.  But how much responsibility should we shift to their shoulders?  I think the fear that has been created is largely credited to the fact that we are an over-medicated, hyper-sensitive culture.   It’s not often news-worthy to report how many people die of the common strain of influenza each year, yet more people die from it (or so I am told by the nurses I’ve been working with at flu clinics this week).

Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of reasons why someone should get the vaccine, particularly those who are in the high priority groups (as in the only ones who should be getting it anyways).  This includes medical staff (nurses, doctors, etc.) people with existing medical conditions, pregnant mothers, kids under five, anyone in daily contact with infants less than six months old and anyone with a compromised immune system.

But I’m sorry, I don’t understand what the rest of the public is so worried about.  Sure, the pharmaceutical companies are happy to let the fear swell because it means more money in their pocket.  And that being said, nobody seems to understand that vaccine shortages are not permanent, it’s true some clinics might run short, but they’re constantly making and shipping more, so again, unless someone is high priority, there is NO need to rush out for the shot tomorrow, or in my opinion, at all.

Personally, I don’t get why people who aren’t high risk, want it at all.  I just don’t get it.  (And to clarify, high risk does not mean someone more likely to catch it, it means someone more likely to not recover from it – with the exception of medical staff who are only high priority because they are more likely to transfer it to people who might not recover.)  The media loves to focus on the cases of people who die from the virus, and I am truly sorry for those families, but there are many many more cases that are mild.  All I’m trying to say is this, they have the priority groups for a reason, why are people not respecting this (and yes, there are lots of people who are not respecting this)?  Is it because they care more about covering their own back than they do about a person who is a higher risk (and should therefore, be vaccinated first), or is it because the media has everyone in such a tizzy that they truly think they will die without the vaccine?

But then again, I don’t understand why people take cough syrup for the common cold.  So what do I know?  (And by the way, I think people take cough syrup because our society cares more about productivity than all else .)

All I am saying is I think the flu clinics are another example of a society that is over-medicated.  And another example of how the media often creates fear.

documentaries!

This post is another list, again in no particular order.  I watch a lot of movies.  I especially like finding good documentaries.  Here are some of the ones I’ve found:

1) Home

This one is free to watch online!  The beginning is similar to Planet Earth, beautiful sweeping landscapes and a look at the evolution of creation, particularly how plant forms came to trap the Sun’s energy – then looks at what humans have done with that energy and how we are affecting the earth.  It might seem like a “we’re all doomed to destroy ourselves’ film, but it ends with great hope.  Well worth watching, even if you’re not usually one to chain yourself to a tree or protest the clubbing of baby seals.

2) Business of Being Born

You can rent this one online from the website (click the title above) or it’s available on amazon.  The film looks at the process of birthing in the USA, specifically how its changed over time with C-sections and medications becoming more prevalent.  (I was particularly outraged by the shocking use of Pitocin, a drug used to speed up labour in nearly all hospital births in the USA.)  It explores the use of midwives and doulas as an alternative to give pregnant women more power over their own birthing process.  It might sound like it’s for the feminists, but trust me – you want to see this if you or your partner are giving birth any time soon.

3) Myths for Profit

Myths for Profit explores three myths that shape Canada’s identity: 1) Canada is a peacekeeping nation, 2) Canada’s military purpose is defence, and 3) Canada’s aid is helping people around the world.  Controversial, yes?

I haven’t seen this one yet, but I’m hoping to get a copy soon!  Ever since my Canadian Literature course in third year of university, I’ve been wondering about this question: what evidence is there to support this notion that Canada is a peacekeeping nation?  How is violence connected to that ‘peace’?

Also, it’s nice to see a Canadian documentary compared to all the American ones I watch.

4) A Force More Powerful

From the website: “exploring one of the 20th century’s most important but least-understood stories – how nonviolent power has overcome oppression and authoritarian rule all over the world.”  For those who think that peace only comes from weapons and oppression, this documentary will get you thinking about the effectiveness of non-violent resistance.  According to the film, fifty of the last sixty-seven overthrown dictatorships have employed strategic non-violent resistance.  The free study guide is a good alternative if you can’t get a copy of the film.

If you’re still interested in a quick overview of the history of non-violence after watching the documentary or reading the study guide, I recommend Mark Kurlansky’s Non-Violence: The History of a Dangerous Idea.

5) Burma VJ

This was free for awhile on The Passionate Eye (another great source for documentaries), but it has been removed now.  The Burma VJ website has a list of screenings in the UK and the US, but it might be harder to find it in Canada.  Still, it’s worth doing some digging to find.

Do you remember hearing about 400,000 monks in Burma protesting the oppressive military regime (now being called the Saffron Revolution)?  The documentary is filmed entirely by underground Burmese video-journalists (VJ) who risked their lives to record the Saffron Revolution in September 2007 and smuggle the footage out of Burma so the world would know.  It is because of these guys that you heard anything about it at all.

6) Amandla!

Amandla is the Zulu word for power, a word that was often used like a battle cry by the resistors of apartheid in South Africa.  The documentary explores the influence of freedom music during the struggle and provides a great lesson in history for those who might not be familiar with the story of apartheid.  It sounds cheesy, but I guarantee you’ll be on your feet dancing by the end of the movie.

This was great to watch following Burma VJ because it reminded me of Gandhi’s words, “that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won.”  I was not old enough to remember Mandela’s release from prison and election to power, which ended the struggle against apartheid, but as I watched the footage of him dancing and greeting people after his release I started imagining the day when we will see Aung San Suu Kyi do the same in Burma.   I truly believe that day will come.

6) The High Cost of Low Prices

If you’ve never heard (or just never believed) that Walmart is an unjust corporation, you should watch this documentary.  It explores how Walmart can afford to sell you that package of pencils for 50 cents or that clock radio for $5.  I’m not going to go into details about this one, but please consider watching it before you consider shopping at Walmart again.

7) Story of Stuff

Another one free online! This is a short (20 minutes), simple exploration of the cycle of extraction, production, distribution, consumption and disposal that happens to everything we buy.  Annie Leonard does a superb job pointing out the flaws in our current system.  Consider this:

After World War II, an American retailing expert named Victor Lebow proclaimed:

“Our enormously productive economy demands that we make consumption our way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfaction, our ego satisfaction, in consumption.  We need things consumed, burned up, worn out, replaced, and discarded at ever-increasing rate.”

We didn’t end up where we are today by accident.  Over-consumption has been intentionally built into our societies.  So now we must ask ourselves how this can be changed.

Also worth mentioning: PBS Frontline and TED: Ideas Worth Spreading.  PBS Frontline posts all of their documentaries free online, dating back to the 1980’s.  You can find a documentary on just about any topic, well worth perusing.  TED posts short videos about innovative ideas, again on just about anything.  Enjoy!

Thanks to Jer for this: The Canadian National Film Board also has some good (free) full-feature films/documentaries, and http://fora.tv/ has interesting perspectives on all angles by a bunch of different speakers – some good, fairly recent ones by Muhammad Yunus and Noam Chomsky.

Do you know of other great ones?  Post them in the comments or email me and I might add them to the list!

a list

This post is simply a list.

A list of all the themes that are floating in and through my mind and heart that I want to some day get around to writing about.  I post it here for two reasons: so that you will anxiously await the arrival of my thoughts on these themes, and so that I will remember that I want to write about them when I feel like I have nothing to say. (Yes, it happens, not often, but it does.) Hopefully separating them into unique ideas will keep me from rambling about all of them in one long, ever-tangenting post.

In no particular order:

- rootedness, home, family

- a broader definition of justice (in response to Jer’s talk on Living Justly)

- possessions, materialism and the cultivation of patience, hope, etc.

- the answer(s) to the ultimate question

- rhythm verses routine

- how to tell a story

- choice and who we become

- where I currently stand on the religion I was raised in.

I think that’s it. For now.

quoted

Two extra tidbits offered to me by two wise friends:

“It is only in letting go of expectations that you can really embrace what life is offering.” – Shelley

“To advance is to face adversity hopefully.” – Gregg

an extension of grace

Whoa, lots of posts, all in a row.  I have a lot of time to think these days, and a lot of things to think about.

My friend Nicola is in Thailand right now.  She’s been blogging about her experiences and asking some tough questions similar to some of the stuff I’ve been thinking through about hope, which is great because its only through conversation that we are able to probe deeper into these mysterious concepts that elude simple explanation.

So a post she wrote called ‘Surprised by Grace’ got me thinking tonight.  The last essay I wrote for my university degree (just a few weeks ago) was on grace and redemption in the works of Flannery O’Connor.  And the ideas I explored in that essay have sort of been floating around in the back of my mind for awhile, lacking articulation and personal implication.

The essay concluded with these thoughts:

Though we fill our shelves with self-help books and spend millions of dollars on counsellors and therapy to try to understand our own suffering, it is not enough.  O’Connor is saying it’s not enough.  There is not enough of anything, nor could there be, for us to be truly happy and free of suffering.  At the end of the day, like every one of O’Connor’s characters, we need to cry out to a god and say I’m suffering.

In this way, faith has moved from being belief in a set of tenants or dogma to belief in our own humanness and fragility.

Now, I’m sure there will be those who disagree (and please do through commenting or email or conversation), but let me try to explain myself.  I do not think this shift in how we (or perhaps just I) view faith is a negative thing in any sense.  It allows me to throw my hands in the air and say “I don’t know.”  Maybe even “we can’t ever really know.”  And by ‘know’, I mean with the exact, scientific certainty we know so many things about our human experience.  (And yet here too, there are flaws.  When I was a kid Pluto was a planet, now science tells me otherwise).

And in admitting we don’t, can’t, won’t ever have all the answers, we are free to finally say “I am broken.”  Free to accept our humanness and fragility and the fact that we can’t really seem to fix it on our own.

May I digress for a moment?  I’m sure some of you caught the above use of ‘a god’ as opposed to ‘God,’ and this was not without reason.   Many Christians would argue that what we ultimately need is to cry out to ‘God’.  And they might be right.  (This is a question I admittedly am still asking myself.)  But my point is that we are all crying out to some god or another, whether or not they be healthy, helpful choices in all cases.  I am not speaking about religion here, I am speaking about the multitude of ways that we seek to sooth our own pain – shopping, alcohol, mind-numbing entertainment, casual sex, etc. etc. etc.  We consume and consume and consume with false hope that x will somehow alleviate our feelings of emptiness and loneliness.  But maybe that’s what O’Connor is trying to show us.  As a devout Catholic she would certainly argue that apart from God, nothing will offer the redemption we seek.

In fact, God may be the only answer to our humanness, by which I mean our brokenness.  (But which God, or in what form, oh dear…)

The important thing for O’Connor, and what I think I am slowly beginning to understand, is that grace that is somehow ‘earned’ is no grace at all.  And when we begin to believe we understand how and to whom God chooses to extend grace, we miss the boat entirely.

Sure, no one would try to argue that God would extent grace to the hurting, the poor, the lonely, right?

Would God extend grace to the perpetrator of injustice?  To the human trafficker?  O’Connor says yes.  Not yes, if he repented.  Not yes, if he changed his ways.  Not yes, if and only if, he somehow earned it.  O’Connor just says yes.  But I am still on the fence.  Because I think it is easier to believe in a God who is ‘on my side’, who punishes the evil [people] and rewards the good [people].

I came across this verse the other day, Matt. 3:12, “His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”  I was brought up in a church culture that told me that the correct interpretation of that verse meant that some people would go to heaven when they die and some people would go to hell.

But I think we are all a little bit evil and a little bit good.  Maybe some of us exercise one more often than the other.  But we all have capacities for both within ourselves.  And maybe its not evil people that God wants to ‘burn up’, but the evil in us all.  Afterall, the wheat and the chaff are both parts of the same plant.

I think that is a better view of justice.  One that, rather than be driven by hatred of ‘evil people’ and despair at what we have managed to destroy, chooses to be driven by hope in humanity and our potential for good.  And I am reminded once again of Gandhi’s words:

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it–always.”

NaNoWriMo

Between finding a job, volunteering, researching various justice issues, checking facebook and sleeping, I’ve decided to write a novel.

Well, maybe.

I heard about this thing called NaNoWriMo last year as it was happening, and promptly forgot all about it until a friend just mentioned it again the other day.  It happens to start again on Sunday.  This Sunday.

The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November.  From scratch.

I like writing, though I’ve only ever written one piece of fiction in my entire life, a flash fiction piece for a postmodernism course last term.  But I really enjoyed the process.

Let’s be clear, the point of NaNoWriMo is NOT to create a masterpiece.  I’m not even aiming for something that could be considered good.  Or even tolerable.  The point is to force myself to start, and to continue when I realize what I am writing is, in fact, complete crap.  Because we all have our list of “somedays” and writing a novel has been on mine.

I’m not doing it for anyone other than myself, which takes the pressure of trying to write a good novel.  I’m doing it to explore the artistic process, to try to put into fiction, into story, some of the themes of hope and brokenness and meaning that I have been pondering over for so long.  To see what comes of it, to fill my time with something other than facebook and re-runs of Mad About You.

So far I have nothing.  I can’t technically begin writing until Sunday, but I can develop plot, characters, theme etc.  I kind of like the idea of starting from complete scratch on Nov 1st though.

Who knows.  We’ll see what happens.

Any other would-be novelists out there want to join me?

An action for justice.

My good friend Dan just sent me this email with VALUABLE info on how Canadians can do something small regarding human trafficking in Canada.  Be part of justice.  Read this. Find your senator.  Contact him or her.  Please.

“All it takes for evil to triumph is that good men [and women] do nothing.”

Do something.

The email from Dan:

A current action point on the human trafficking issue within the Canadian politics realm:

Right now, there is no minimum sentence for trafficking minors in Canada. So in recent cases people have been getting sentences of around 2-3 years or less for human trafficking.

Joy Smith, an MP from Manitoba, recently introduced a private members bill (C-268) which establishes a minimum term of 5 years for trafficking a minor.

The good news is that it passed through the House of Commons (not many private member’s bills ever get through this stage – so this is great!). And right now it is going through the 2nd reading in the Senate, then it will go to committee and then come back for a final vote. Then it can be given royal ascent and be passed into law.

***The point is, you need to contact your Senators and let them know that you want Bill C-268 to pass!

While on the Hill this summer, I learned that personal emails and letters get noticed more as opposed to form emails/letters/post cards. Really just say who you are, where you’re from, what you want them to support and why. If you’re feeling really motivated you could call up their offices; you’ll just get an assistant, but they do tend to pass this stuff along, especially when it’s concerning a Bill that the Senator is dealing with right now.

–> You can contact your senators here (Senators represent provinces, so you can contact all the ones in your province).

If you want to send letters (no postage necessary) you send them to:
[Name of Senator], The Senate of Canada, Ottawa ON, K1A 0A4

Hope you have a couple minutes to send a few emails!
-Dan

where justice and hope meet

So if you know me at all, you know that these two words are often on my tongue, usually followed somewhere with a question mark.   I continue to wrestle with the questions of justice and hope.  What is justice?  How are we involved in justice, and injustice?  How can we hope for justice in a world that seems inherently driven by greed, fear and complacency?  How can we continue to cultivate hope against overwhelming odds?  Really, I could go on and on.

I just got home from having coffee with two new friends, Jay and Michelle (www.hopeforthesold.com).  First, its refreshing to find that there are other people out there in the world worth knowing.  After university, when everyone scattered across the nation (or more accurately, everyone moved to Vancouver) and I came home to find most of my old friends are now in other places, I started wondering whether I would be spending a whole lot of time thinking through stuff on my own.  Which is tough for a person who processes best through discussion, such as myself.  Hence the need for this blog.  But clearly, this is a tangent.  Suffice it to say there are people out there, even in this area of Ontario, worth knowing.  And I’m gonna find them.

So Jay and Michelle are back recently from a cross-country road trip which took them from one place to another researching, interviewing and filming footage for a documentary they are putting out on human trafficking.

Say what?  Human trafficking – which I learned is the third (or maybe second now) largest industry in the world.  Next to weapons and drugs.  The buying and selling of human lives.

But I thought slavery had been abolished in the 1800s.  International Justice Mission (www.ijm.org) states:

Today, millions of lives around the world are in the grip of injustice.

More children, women and men are held in slavery right now than over the course of the entire trans-Atlantic slave trade: Millions toil in bondage, their work and even their bodies the property of an owner.

Trafficking in humans generates profits in excess of 12 billion dollars a year for those who, by force and deception, sell human lives into slavery and sexual bondage. More than 2 million children are trapped in forced prostitution.

Did you catch that?  More people are enslaved TODAY than the combined number of slaves bought and sold during the trans-Atlantic slave trade.  More women and children are trapped in forced prostitution than the number of Africans who were forced to work on cotton plantations in the South.

And this isn’t just a third world problem.  The largest ‘consumers’ of sex tourism are North American men.   The domestic trafficking of aboriginal women in CANADA for the purpose of sexual exploitation is still rampant.

So what can we do?  Where do justice and hope meet?  I think it’s in a number of places – to begin awareness, advocacy and education.  Awareness of injustice must be forced into the minds of the public if we are going to see anyone stand up and demand change.  Jay and Michelle reiterated again and again that as long as there exists a demand for it, human traffickers will continue to supply.

And the demand will continue to exist as long as we remain ignorant and complacent to reality.  Remember that quote from Edmund Burke? “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men [and women] do nothing.”

So what can we do?  I think what I am really starting to understand is that justice and hope meet in the individual.  The individual who refuses to turn a blind eye to systematic injustice.  Because the individual has power to do something.  Maybe not everything, but something. Because justice begins in small places, in small ways.

And justice and hope meet in the individual who is changed because of that one individual.  Maybe that person is someone who will now advocate on behalf of the victims of sexual exploitation.  Or maybe that person is someone who will get involved at a street level, working with women involved in the sex trade, whether by force or by ‘choice’, offering them hope and maybe even a way out.

And maybe that street worker won’t be able to save everyone, but maybe he or she will be able to give hope to one individual, to help one girl see her own worth, and to find a way out.  One individual.

I think that is a good place to begin.

If you’re looking for more info and ways to get involved, go here: http://humantrafficking.change.org/.

For an in depth look at domestic trafficking of women in Canada, go here:

http://www.cncew.ca/Publications/MicrosoftWord-CNCEW_Trafficking_Discussion_SJS.pdf

Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

The difficult question is where to begin.

I’ve been home for about a month and a half now.  Roughly three weeks ago I completed the last course of my B.A. degree.  Though I have submitted dozens of applications for positions with various social justice organizations, I still don’t have a job.  I feel like I’m drifting in an ocean of possibility with little direction or means of propulsion.

I’ve been told a lot in the last little while, through a variety of voices, that justice begins in small places and small ways.  What is required is focus, then determination and grace.  How do I begin to focus when I feel pulled in so many directions?  I spoke with a lawyer who works with International Justice Mission (www.ijm.ca) recently who advised me that I should choose one country to which my heart is pulled, and then submerge myself in the study of that culture – language, history, literature, social issues, politics.  By this method, we become experts at one thing, instead of dabbling in a variety.  Perhaps this is what keeps us from becoming overwhelmed – to take on the world’s injustice is so great a task, and with resources stretched so thin, how can we expect to affect change?  No, instead, we choose to till the small piece of the earth which can yield life-sustaining fruit.

The difficult question is where to begin.

justice

I volunteered today at a conference called World Concerns Day, an event for junior high and high school kids in this area where various presenters and exhibitors talked about human rights, different social justice issues, and most importantly, how students could be involved.  My role was simple, setting up chairs, directing people to the right classrooms, greeting speakers as they arrived.  Ah, but the benefits of being around people who are currently doing what I someday hope do be doing more of – advocating for justice, and best of all, empowering youth.  Because, as we have all heard before, kids are the future, and if anyone has the chance to change the world it is them.

Wait, that may very well be true, but it’s also you and me.  You and I don’t get off as easy as saying it’s the future generation that will change the world.  If you know me, you know this is something I have been seriously questioning in the last little while – can we make a difference?

I know I still don’t have an answer, and I’ve been reminded by a few people that there really aren’t easy answers.  I think my greatest struggle in finding peace in life is to accept that.  Because I want to solve the problems, and figure things out, and come up with the solution, so I can sleep at night.  So at the end of the day, all the packages are tied with pretty ribbons and the cobwebs are swept out of all the corners (ah, if only I could actually apply such thinking to my cleaning habits).  But this is a tangent.

So there isn’t an easy answer, but I do have some thoughts.

The first is this: I talk and read and write a lot about ’social justice’, but I’ve never really challenged myself to define the term.  Social – that’s easy, you and me and every other person on this planet.  True many have offered the “think global, act local” slogan recently. And I agree wholeheartedly.  Except when people think that doing something about global issues isn’t a local thing.  But here again is another tangent, perhaps one I can return to in a future post.

Justice – that one is a bit stickier, and though I’ve taken a course on the philosophy of justice and read a lot about it, I’m not sure I could easily sum it up for you.

But I heard it defined today in a way that grabbed my attention and will most likely hold it for awhile: justice is the right use of power.  Seems simple right, and yet deep.  And I’m sure my philosophy friends could tear this definition apart or say it’s missing this or that or whatever, but for me, for now, it works.  It works really well.  Because the thing is that this definition can easily be changed to say that injustice is the wrong use of power.  The misuse of power.  The abuse of power.

But here’s the better reason for liking this definition: it calls us to be accountable for our power.  Because justice is not just in the hands of NGO’s, international organizations, governments or activists.   It really truly is in our hands, because we really truly do have power.  We have voices, we have resources, we have influence.  And when you combine that with something to say, well, maybe enough people can use enough power in the RIGHT way to see justice here.  Now.

And more, when we turn a blindeye to injustice, we are failing to use our power correctly.  We are misusing our power.  We are not excericising the right use of power.  We are not only ignoring injustice, we are perpetrating it.  17th cenutry Irish political philosopher Edmund Burke wrote, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men [and women] do nothing.”  Justice is the right use of power.  Maybe all that is necessary for the triumph of good is that good men and women do something.  Anything.

And here’s where I hope this blog will be something.  I plan on continuing to reflect on life and the things I was writing about this summer – rootedness, home, forgiveness, nature, living in the moment - but this blog will probably bring up justice a lot.  Links to documentaries.  Poetry and song that inspires action.  Links to petitions.  Blurbs on different organizations and what they are doing.  And me trying to wrestle through the issues of hope and justice.  Because I’m starting to think you can’t have one without the other.  But more on that in the next post.

Most of all I hope this blog is a place to begin conversation.  Because that’s how ideas are spread.  That’s how we empower each other to exercise the right use of power.  So, tell me what you think.