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Central African Republic: Companion Church Distributes Food and Clothing

Megan Brandsrud

​Beneficiaries of Food and Clothing Distribution in CAR

March 3, 2014

Violence and security continue to be concerns for our brothers and sisters in the Central African Republic (CAR). Of the country’s 4.6 million people, approximately 2.5 are in need of assistance, according to a recent report from the United Nations.

On Feb. 8 and 9, members of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of the Central African Republic (EELRCA) distributed rice, vegetable oil and clothing to 10,202 people impacted by violence in the country. With funds from Lutheran Disaster Response – International and Mission Afrika, a total of 50 tons of rice, 4,890 liters of vegetable oil and 41 packages of gently-used clothing were distributed from the EELRCA head office and the main mosque in the Haoussa neighborhood of Bouar.

The food distribution was a long process of purchasing the food, measuring out rations, and delivering the food under the risks of security and personal safety. However, the EELRCA is committed to serving and assisting people in CAR, despite the obstacles. Amidst the crisis, the church is still living and acting as the church as the Gospel continues to be proclaimed through word and deed.

After listening to the joys of the beneficiaries, Rev. André Golike of the EELRCA said, “When you live and share in people’s lives, you know them and understand what they need. Others give us soy, which is not something we eat very often. Our partner [the ELCA] gave us rice and clothing. This is what we eat. Many people have lost everything. Now they have clothes to wear.”

People of the region continue to show up at the church head office seeking assistance, as the church is looked to as a great source of support during this crisis. We will continue to pray for peace as we walk with our brothers and sisters in the Central African Republic and provide assistance to those who remain impacted by the on-going violence.

The EELRCA provided food and clothing to 10,202 individuals:

  • 2,984 children ages 0-5 years
  • 3,727 children ages 6-15 years
  • 3,491 adults
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Living Earth Reflections: Choosing Your Fast

Mary Minette, ELCA Director of Environmental Advocacy

February 2014

 

“Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?”

Isaiah 58:6-7

During the first week of the meeting of the parties to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change in Warsaw last November, a delegate from the Philippines announced that he would be fasting for the duration of the meeting to call attention to the needs of those most vulnerable to climate change. This included the people of his own country, which had just been hit by the strongest typhoon ever recorded, causing massive losses of life and livelihood. Yeb Sano’s fast caught the attention of many of the people of faith attending the meeting — fasting is a practice that people of faith understand and connect to — and a number of the young adults who were part of The Lutheran World Federation’s delegation decided to join in the fast. Their gesture of support for the Philippines spread to others in the building, and by the time I arrived for the meeting’s second week, those who were fasting could be recognized by the red fabric dots they wore on their lapels as they hurried to plenary sessions and workshops.

 

Following the close of the meeting, the Lutheran World Federation delegates and others decided to continue their fast, selecting one day to fast each month until the next UN meeting in Lima, Peru, in December 2014. Their hope is that people will join the fast and tell friends and family that they are doing it to call attention to the need for global action and commitment to combat climate change. The UN process is working toward a new global agreement that would be signed in 2015 and take effect in 2020.

 

As I noted in my reflection post-Warsaw, what our neighbors need most from each of us is solidarity. They need our commitment to act and to urge our leaders to act to reduce emissions of carbon dioxide and other gases that are causing climate change. Fasting is a practice with deep roots in many religious traditions. However, an outside observer may not easily connect a fast from food with the very real difficulties faced by communities suffering from climate change, although food security and hunger are significant consequences of changing weather patterns.

 

A fast from food shows solidarity with those suffering from a changing climate, but doesn’t address the root causes of climate change. A fast from activities that contribute to carbon pollution highlights the fossil fuels that are at the heart of the problem and sends a strong message about the urgent need for individual and collective action. It also helps to name the responsibility that each of us bears for a global problem. But a carbon fast is challenging in ways that a food fast is not: refraining from eating for a day or a week is possible, but it is impossible to completely eliminate activities that involve using energy from fossil fuels. In recent years, a number of faith organizations have sponsored carbon fasts for Lent, with guides on what to give up (or stop doing) and why, but none of them suggests that completely cutting carbon emissions is a practical thing to do, or even a possibility.

 

So both types of fasting are flawed, but both are helpful tools for calling attention to the issue of climate change.

 

Which fast will you choose?

Sign up for daily emails during Lent to support your fast from the Massachusetts Conference of the United Church of Christhere.

Do you have questions or want to learn more about ELCA Advocacy? Visit our ELCA Advocacy News and Updates page or contact us at washingtonoffice@elca.org.

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“But they’re here ILLEGALLY!”

Ryan Cumming

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tombstone1
 

Well THAT epitaph is sure to get a lot of rubbings.  Perhaps in the right cemetery, it might be a perfect fit.  After all, there is something to be said about following the law.  Indeed, in great measure, the safety and security of a community depends less on the ability to efficiently deter lawbreakers – or to swiftly punish them – than on the hope that the majority of citizens won’t break the law in the first place.

Lutherans historically have appreciated the important role of civil laws.  At a minimum, the law – and the powers that exist to enforce it – help us go about our daily lives in relative security.  Martin Luther was famously supportive of obedience to civil laws and to the ruling authorities in his day.  When the peasants rebelled against the landed gentry in Germany, Luther referred to them as animals, writing that they should be killed like “mad dogs” (which brings up a whole other question of animal cruelty – see the colorfully titled “Against the Robbing and Murdering Hordes of Peasants,” 1525).  Of course, the Lutheran deference to civil laws and authority has led to other problems.  One of the more dangerous memories of Lutheran history is the use of this obedience to undergird support for Hitler and the Nazi Party in Germany.  (Truth be told, Luther’s prevalent anti-Semitism didn’t help much, either.)

Still, the Lutheran notion that civil law is a gift from God meant to help us live lives in security and safety is an important one.  It keeps Lutherans in a unique middle ground, between those who believe that being faithful means abandoning their identity as citizens of a country and those who believe that faithful citizenship means making sure all the laws of the land reflect their own religious beliefs.  This is at the heart of that pesky “two kingdoms” stuff we Lutherans keep touting.  God enables us to be citizens so we can exercise responsibility, live out our faith and serve our neighbors free of the chaos and fear of anarchy.

Lutheran citizens are neither expatriates nor demagogues.  We don’t have to choose between abandoning our country and dominating our country in order to live in it faithfully.  The law, for Lutherans, serves an important function, one which we support and one in which we are engaged.

So, why is my epitaph above still lacking a bit of luster?  Why is it that I want to leave a mark on this world that goes a bit deeper than just being “a law-abiding citizen”?

Lutherans appreciate the law; we value it; ideally, we follow it (and, obviously, here we’re talking about civil laws, not the Law of God.  That’s a topic for a different day.)  But, we also recognize that the law isn’t good in itself.  It’s good because of the purpose that God intends for it.

Laws, and the authorities that enforce them, are good because they keep us safe, they help organize our lives, and they help us live meaningfully and responsibly as members of a human community.  They have a deeper purpose than merely commanding our obedience.  We see this in how we talk about laws, in general.  We don’t merely want enforceable laws; we want just laws.  We don’t want laws that merely keep us safe; we want fair laws.  We don’t want laws that merely constrain our lives; we want laws that enrich our lives.  And we lift up these same qualities in ourselves and our leaders.  In the 2009 Social Policy Resolution on immigration reform, the ELCA outlined this pretty clearly: “Governing authorities are to seek justice, foster peace, protect people, and support their well-being.”  There is something more profound that we want for ourselves and for our community than merely obedience.

 tombstone2

Aha!  Now THERE’S an epitaph I can live with! (Umm…)

So often we get focused on obedience to the law without plunging deeper into the values that we, as law-making and law-abiding citizens, are supposed to pursue through this obedience.  The rhetoric surrounding the immigration debate in the US is, tragically, a good example of this.

“We do not owe people who broke our laws to come into the country.” (Rep. Michelle Bachmann, R-MN)

“These illegal aliens are criminals and we need to treat them as such.” (Rep. Paul Broun, R-GA)

Outside the hallowed halls of government, how many of us haven’t heard some version of this sentiment: “But they’re here illegally!  They’re criminals!  They broke the law!”  In the debate, we’ve lost touch with the notion that there is more to citizenship than obedience, and more to laws than merely restrictions.  Good laws – like good citizens – reflect our deepest feelings about justice, fairness, and the common good.  Good laws, like good citizens, enable and enrich life.

To what extent do current immigration laws do this?  To what extent to they reflect – and form – a society that is just, where life is enhanced by opportunity and community?  To what extent do they measure up to the vision Americans have of our nation, and how do they reflect the vision God intended for human laws and human societies?

As Rev. Stephen Bouman, the executive director of the Congregational and Synodical Mission Unit of the ELCA pointed out recently, over 24,000 unaccompanied minors crossed the border between Mexico and the United States in 2013.  They risked starvation and violence to make the passage here, only to be incarcerated by the US when caught.  It is no secret what led them to take this modern-day journey through the wilderness to a land of promise: violence, abject poverty, desperation.

Those who are not caught, incarcerated, or deported often find that the “promised land” is not without its own challenges.  Of the estimated 11 million living in the US illegally, nearly 4 million are living in poverty.  Even those immigrants who are living here legally still find themselves relegated to jobs, especially in food production and food service, that do not pay a living wage (See Bread for the World’s 2014 Hunger Report).  It seems that even being “obedient” is not enough to feed one’s family.​

Our tradition gives us a way of talking about immigration and the obstacles immigrants face.  Citizenship, for Lutherans, is about more than following laws and paying taxes.  It is about contributing to a community that reflects God’s good plans for human life.  While never perfect, life within a political community now is supposed to give us a glimpse “through a glass darkly” of the perfect reign that we will experience in the Kingdom of God.  This doesn’t mean campaigning for Christianization of the country.  But it also doesn’t mean leaving laws behind, as if we are unconcerned.  It does mean lifting up leaders and policies that serve the common good by enhancing our lives and by creating a community in which all who desire it can go beyond mere obedience and live meaningful lives as faithful citizens.

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Why the book of Ruth is not a love story: A study of Ruth 2:1-16

Henry Martinez

I used to think the book of Ruth was a love story. First there is the love Ruth shows Naomi:

“Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die—there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!” Ruth 1:16-17

This display of devotion rivals the sentiments of most romantic poems (the good ones at least). And then there is the love between Boaz and Ruth, wrapping it up nicely and providing a colorful backstory for some essential branches in King David’s family tree. But calling the book of Ruth a love story or dramatized genealogy runs the risk of evading a crucial issue of our time. At its heart the book of Ruth is a story of immigration.

We don’t know the reasons for Ruth’s decision to throw her lot in with Naomi. No one is surprised by Naomi’s choice to go back to her homeland, or by Orpah’s choice to go back to her family after her husband dies. But Ruth’s decision to leave the security of her family and homeland to pursue an unpromising future with a fellow widow could only be called foolishness or faith. She is commonly referred to as Ruth the Moabite, which leads us to think her nationality would have been an issue. She takes to gleaning in the fields as a way of ensuring she can feed herself and her mother-in-law. She’s earning no wage for her labor; at most she hopes to glean enough grains for a meal. She catches the attention of Boaz, who learns of her story (at least part of it) from the labor overseer. Thankfully for her, she chose the right field to glean from.

​Boaz assures her that she will find protection in his field, safe from the rebuke she presumably would have received from the other field workers or overseers. He also gives her permission to drink from the water they have drawn. She asks what she, a foreigner, has done to earn such favor. Boaz responds:

‘All that you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband has been fully told me, and how you left your father and mother and your native land and came to a people that you did not know before. May the Lord reward you for your deeds, and may you have a full reward from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge!’ Then she said, ‘May I continue to find favor in your sight, my lord, for you have comforted me and spoken kindly to your servant, even though I am not one of your servants.’ (2:9, 15-16)

Rather than see her as a foreigner and respond in a way which protects his economic interests and preserves the rights of the locals, Boaz extols Ruth’s character. He hears her story and sees her sacrifice and devotion ahead of whatever hindrance her nationality or ethnicity may have presented. Even though the Torah teaches that the poor and foreigners should be allowed to glean in the fields (Leviticus 19:9-10), this does not mean there is universal acceptance of this (especially when Moabites are involved). There are other stories in scripture where anti-Moabite prejudice is allowed (Genesis 19, Numbers 25, Ezra 9). Boaz doesn’t seem to have anything to gain by extending this hospitality to Ruth, but his care for her in spite of the conflicting social custom signifies a deep regard for the vulnerable that offers us a witness worth considering as we reflect on immigration today.

The attitude toward immigrants in the US often ranges from indifference to hostility. A welcome acceptance appears to be rare. Regardless of their story or character, it is more likely that we would welcome them in our fields than our communities. The story of Ruth reminds us that social customs may conflict with our understanding and practice of hospitality. No, God doesn’t explicitly tell Boaz to consider Ruth, but God uses the unfolding events and kindness of Boaz to show us how redemption and care of neighbors can work. Knowing someone’s story makes a difference. Rather than see her as merely a Moabite, Boaz sees Ruth as a person of faith and character, with dignity.  Her story can help us explore our own hospitality, and the extent to which we acknowledge its boundaries and our acceptance of social norms.

For more on the importance of examining perceptions of immigrants and welcoming the stranger, see two great articles by Carmelo Santos and Bishop Wayne N. Miller (Metro Chicago synod) in the December issue of the Journal of Lutheran Ethics. ​

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South Sudan: Providing Relief to People Displaced by Violence

Megan Brandsrud

​Dzaipi Reception Centre, Adjumani 22 January 2014. Photo by Mai Gad, DCA,LWF,ACT

Feb. 12, 2014

For several months, there has been tension within the South Sudanese ruling party, the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM). When President Salva Kiir, an ethnic Dinka, dismissed his vice president, Riek Machar, an ethnic Nuer, tensions increased and evolved from a power struggle into an ethnic clash. In the evening of Dec. 15, 2013, heavy armed fighting broke out. There have been reports of mass killings and other human rights violations.

 

More than 868,000 South Sudanese have fled their homes since the violence started. While neighboring countries have opened their borders to receive refugees, resources are running thin. We are a church that is committed to peace and justice, and Lutheran Disaster Response – International has committed more than $700,000 to support those who have been affected by this crisis. Working through our local partners, we will respond in:

 

South Sudan

Working with Lutheran World Federation (LWF), we will be assisting 20,000 IDPs in Fangak and will begin to support IDPs in Benui. We will also continue to provide assistance to 90,000 refugees across five camps. Assistance includes distributing non-food items and providing protection.

 

Uganda

Uganda has accepted many South Sudanese refugees (85 percent being women and children), and the transit centers are full. The severe overcrowding means new arrivals must sleep outside, which leaves them unprotected and at risk of disease and dehydration. We are working with LWF to ramp up water, sanitation and hygiene services.

 

Kenya

South Sudanese refugees have been arriving daily at Kakuma camp since early January. Two-thirds of the arrivals are children, and 20 percent of them are unaccompanied and separated. We will work with LWF to provide child protection and education programs. LWF partners will also help expand the water system at Kakuma.

 

Ethiopia

Ethiopia has seen the largest surge in newly-arrived refugees. Through LWF, we will provide potable drinking water and improve sanitation facilities and hygiene services to refugees in Lietchor and Tongo refugee camps.

 

Chad:

Through LWF, we will be working with the World Food Program (WFP) to respond to the influx of people and distribute food to the newly arrived refugees and those sheltering in transit centers.

 

We are committed to walking with our brothers and sisters affected by this crisis, and we will continue to pray for peace. Your gifts will help us continue to care for the most vulnerable.

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Book Review: Fresh Fruit, Broken Bodies

Henry Martinez

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fresh fruit broken bodiesIn Fresh Fruit, Broken Bodies, Holmes attempts to better understand the “social and symbolic context of suffering among migrant laborers” (29). The book begins with a personal account of a dangerous border crossing, then records his work alongside a particular group of Triqui people (an indigenous group in what is now the Mexican state of Oaxaca) through harvest fields in Washington, California and back to Oaxaca. His explorations progress with the hope that his observations will help change public opinion, practices and policies (29). ​

The book chronicles Holmes’ journey to understand how the poor suffer, often reading like a sociologist’s annotated field notes. The first-hand interviews and narrative presentation serve two purposes. First, and most obviously, these give the reader a glimpse into the lives of his Triqui companions. Secondly, the author relies heavily on the interviews and narrative to transition to topics that are contextually essential to the issue, but require further analysis beyond the scope of the book (e.g. neoliberal capitalism, North American Free Trade Agreement). As a result the narrative, combined with critical reflection and knowledge of social science research, advances Holmes’ case and signals the need for some additional context.

In the third chapter the author gives a vivid depiction of farm work. His insights not only give the reader a glimpse at some of the issues affecting these laborers, but also explain the segregation of labor, one of the social structures he wants us to challenge. The fourth chapter studies the issue of embodied violence and examines how racism is naturalized (a term the author uses frequently) in the industry. The fifth chapter looks at the health care available to the farm workers, both their access and opportunities in Mexico and the United States. The sixth chapter is devoted to the “public gaze” regarding the farm workers, where the author surveys the systematic effects.

In his analysis Holmes avoids simplistic arguments. Instead, he strives to draw attention to the systematic ways in which populations are marginalized or written off completely. One critical step he acknowledges is combating normalization- seeing the plight of migrant workers (a term which the author interrogates thoroughly) as an unfortunate but inevitable part of the social order. He finds this sort of indifference destructive, and an impediment when working toward respect, and common humanity as far as seeking a solution regarding migration and the U.S.-Mexican border (156). These sorts of conclusions sometimes leave the reader wondering how to work for systematic change, and the author offers a couple anecdotes of how he sees this done.

Since Holmes works, lives, and travels with the Triqui people he is reporting about, his methods of research could be criticized for a lack of objectivity. One would expect a certain degree of empathy, if not bias, would develop when spending a substantial amount of time building relationships with a particular group. On the other hand, the position he assumes makes his claims and analysis tough to dismiss (as he seeks perspective from grower and picker, medical care practitioner and patient). In the end he is able to achieve a unique ethnographic account that fully supports his analysis. Whether or not that analysis is sufficient for his critics is another matter.

Throughout the book I kept wondering whether or not his analysis would be convincing for someone who disagrees with his conclusions. We get the sense that he interviews people who disagree with him, but Holmes doesn’t go into detail about how the conversations took shape or conclude. Of course a lot depends on where the disagreement lies, but overall his case could benefit from a more thorough policy review (i.e. NAFTA and migration). The reader would do well to look into supplement articles and papers from the Economic Policy Institute or other related publications: NAFTA in the New Millennium, (eds. Chambers and Smith) and “NAFTA and Migration.” I have had only a cursory review of these sources and merely recommend them as examples without endorsement of their findings.

​This book would be well suited for those interested in issues of race relations and/or work among migrant populations, specifically farm laborers (a population which often exists under the radar in many communities). A common refrain throughout the book is the need to challenge structures that devalue humanity. By identifying the unabashed racism that exists in this system, Holmes is calling us to recognize complicity and work to change it wherever we can.

farm laborer migrationMap showing major migration streams in the United States.

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My Friend’s House and Pebbles Phillips

Ryan P. Cumming

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“If you hold your hand out clenched, you can’t give or receive.  But if your hand is open, you can give and receive.”  Pebbles Phillips, a vocalist and musician who has performed with top acts, lives by this motto.  As a single mother, she not only takes care of her daughter but also helps her daughter’s father, her neighbors and people she meets in food lines.  Pebbles teaches her daughter to be grateful for what they have, even though both of them depend on food pantries and government assistance to keep food on the table.

Pebbles and Azure3Pebbles’ daughter receives SNAP benefits each month, but Pebbles herself does not because she receives a small amount of Social Security which “barely pays rent.”  Getting benefits for her daughter is a burdensome process that requires “a lot of patience.”  Still, she says, “I have to do it.”  Without help from other family members, her daughter depends on SNAP to eat, though even with the meager benefit she receives, both Pebbles and her daughter were going hungry by the last week of each month.  SNAP helped a lot, but it didn’t keep them from going hungry.

To make it through the month Pebbles “never misses the food line,” sometimes waiting three to four hours in line to receive fresh food for herself and her daughter.  Finding My Friend’s House, a ministry supported by ELCA World Hunger, was a “blessing.”  In line there, she joined folks who would sleep on the porch or arrive in the wee hours of the morning to get food.  When her daughter’s benefits were reduced November 1, 2013, she relied even more on My Friend’s House and other food programs.

Still, Pebbles makes the best of her situation.  “Even if all we have is beans and potatoes, we make it into a feast.”  Together she and her daughter served other folks at My Friend’s House dinner on Thanksgiving Day.  Her positive attitude helps Pebbles face the grim reality of food insecurity: the laborious process of applying for and maintaining benefits, the long lines at food pantries, the anger and frustration of some of her friends and neighbors in similar situations, the uncertainty of having heat or power each month, and the pressing fear that SNAP, Section 8, Social Security or other programs might be threatened by cuts.  Her family depends on the assistance they receive from both the church and the state.  Without both, Pebbles and her daughter will join the millions of Americans who go hungry in a land of plenty.   With them, Pebbles and her daughter not only feed themselves but are also able to contribute to their community in many ways.

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New Jersey: Lutheran Disaster Response Affiliate Hosts a “Hand in Hand” Sandy Service Day

Megan Brandsrud

​HandinHandGarden

On Jan. 20, Martin Luther King, Jr.’s National Day of Service, Lutheran Social Ministries of New Jersey (LSMNJ) organized more than 50 volunteers who offered a helping hand to the many people in the area still dealing with impacts from Superstorm Sandy. Volunteers, ranging in age from 7 to 65 years old, hauled debris, prepared the community garden at the Visitation Relief Center in Brick, N.J., helped insulate pipes in a home impacted by the storm, tore out damaged flooring at an American Legion Hall, and assisted in several other projects.

Every month, LSMNJ Disaster Response organizes a “Hand in Hand” Sandy Service Day in coordination with area long-term recovery groups and other partnering recovery organizations.

Assistant Disaster Recovery Coordinator Alex Elefante is impressed by the selflessness of the volunteers that show up at the monthly events. “They amaze me each time,” Elefante says. “The positive impact they have on the lives of those still affected by Superstorm Sandy, even if for a little while, is tremendous.

The next “Hand in Hand” Sandy Service Day will be Feb. 15. To sign up or learn more about the volunteer event, visitwww.lsmnj.org.

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Central African Republic – Running from Violence

Megan Brandsrud

​January 27, 2014

CAR refugee camp

Approximately 2.2 million people in the Central African Republic are in need of humanitarian assistance due to insecurity and intense violence occurring in the country. The United Nations estimates that 935,000 of these people have been forced from their homes due to the severity of fighting in their area. Some of these people have found refuge in various locations, such as churches, and some of these people are living in the bush, running from fighting groups as they attack nearby villages.

 

For Fredd and his family, the violence in their area started on a late Friday morning. As the violence continued that night, he and his family decided to move into the bush away from the village to spend the night in a friend’s field about 10 kilometers away. As they traveled, they came across several other people who were also fleeing.

 

“A Muslim man came and told us that someone had informed the Seleka that all those who lived on the east side of the village were Christian and those to the west were Muslim, so the Seleka were planning to move into the east and search for people even in the bush,” Fredd says. “We decided to walk under the cover of darkness through the bush to the west side of town.”

 

Fredd and his family continued to walk to the next village since they could hear heavy gunfire from behind them. Within the group, there were several children, including three babies all under five months old. “The older children, including my eight-year-old daughter, all walked, while we carried the smaller ones,” Fredd says.

 

After walking through the next day and night, they decided to stop for a half hour to rest. Fredd’s wife then caught a high fever and she couldn’t walk. “We wrapped her in thick cloth, but she was still trembling very hard and complaining of cold,” Fredd says. “We knew she had malaria.”

 

Fredd started to worry about what would happen to his wife if she died. Would he be able to bury her, or would he have to leave her body behind and follow the rest of the group? The group made a small fire and put her feet by it and prayed. After a couple of hours, Fredd’s wife felt better and she could walk again.

 

“This was a miracle for me,” Fredd says. “She had been treated with prayer and a small fire. We walked for 12 days and finally made it to the clinic. Had it not been for the Muslim man, I believe this story would be different. I might not be telling this story.”

 

The Seleka rebel group is a largely Muslim alliance that seized the capital in March 2013. The group is now referred to as ex-Seleka rebels because the alliance has officially, but not actively nor effectively, disbanded. A mostly-Christian alliance, known as the anti-Balaka, formed in response to the Seleka rebel group and has also played a large role in attacks in the country. While both of these groups tend to be labeled by their religious affiliation, the fighting in the Central African Republic is not bound by the lines of religious war. The conflict in the country is a result of political power and economic grievances. Fredd’s story illustrates the understanding that peace cannot be achieved alone—an inter-faith response is needed.

 

Lutheran Disaster Response – International is working with Lutheran World Federation and our companion church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of the Central African Republic (EELRCA), to provide food assistance to IDPs in the CAR. We are also working with our companion church to play a role in peace-building and reconciliation between Muslim and Christian communities in the country.

 

Your gifts allow us to continue to address the needs of the most vulnerable and walk with our brothers and sisters toward peace.

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Contracts, Covenants and Charity

Ryan Cumming

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Much ink has been spilled critiquing the difference between the simplistic act of donating to the poor and the more complex ministry of accompanying those in poverty.  On the one hand, it seems a good thing to put coins in a panhandler’s cup, or donate toys to a gift drive, or pack meals to be shipped overseas.  In fact, all of this has a long history within the religious tradition of almsgiving.   On the other hand, a whole cadre of activists and advocates have called these acts paternalistic and tried to pull (or push) well-intentioned Christians into a ministry that is marked by interpersonal relationships rather than one-sided giving of time or treasure.

Bishop Wayne Miller (Metro Chicago Synod) attempted this in 2011, when he described a continuum of ways that the church encounters the poor.  At one end is pity, which essentially views people in poverty as objects of sympathy or derision.  At the other end is identification, in which we identify so closely with people in poverty that we experience their suffering as our own and seek to end it.  Somewhere in the middle, we move from mere pity or charity to the beginnings of actual relationships with people in poverty, a move Bishop Miller urges the church to make.

But, really, who has time or energy for that?  When our good intentions have brought us to the crossroads of service, we seem left with two choices: charity or relationships.  Too often, Bishop Miller and Robert Lupton (whose Toxic Charity wasreviewed here earlier this month) remind us, we choose the former, since we don’t have the time or desire to form a relationship.

I will press Bishop Miller a bit here, though I agree with him otherwise.  A relationship isn’t formed somewhere near the middle of the continuum; every interaction with the neighbor forms a relationship.  The question isn’t, “Should I put money in the panhandler’s cup, or should I form a relationship with her?”  The question is, “What kind of relationship am I forming in this action?  How will this act shape how I view my neighbor and how my neighbor views me?”  The point to consider here is not whether to form a relationship but what quality of relationship the church is forming in its service.

That the church is in the business of forming authentic relationships with people in poverty and working to end their suffering is central to who we are as people of God.  There are those who disagree, claiming that active service and advocacy make the church too worldly, that the church should teach the word and sacraments and focus only on spiritual matters.

To put it bluntly, they are wrong.  The Law, the prophets and the Gospel reveal that there is no greater evidence of alienation from God than unrepentant alienation from the neighbor.  The two cannot be separated.

Many Lutherans are familiar with Martin Luther’s famous paradox in Freedom of the Christian: Christians are perfectly free, subject to none; Christians are perfect servants, subject to all.  Understanding this contradiction requires understanding what salvation means for Lutherans.  We believe that sin, in its most basic form, means being “curved inward,” so focused on our own needs and our own goodness that we can’t be there for other people.  By grace, God has justified us; we don’t need to be so insular.  We are “curved outward” by God’s saving action, freed to be there for the neighbor.

After all the theology, soteriology, Christology, harmatiology, and so on – after all those lofty doctrines and tenets, one thing is left: the neighbor.  We are saved for the sake of the neighbor.  Or, more appropriately, we are reconciled to God that we may be reconciled to the neighbor.  To be in relationship with God is to be in relationship with the neighbor.  To serve God is to serve the neighbor.  We take joy in God by taking joy in the neighbor.  We express hope in God by sharing in hope with the neighbor.  We commune with God by communing with the neighbor.  We neglect one relationship only at the cost of the other.

We learn what it means to be in relationships by looking closely at God’s relationship with us.  The most basic shape this takes is the form of the covenant.  Christian ethicist Stewart Herman contrasts covenants with contracts, another powerful image of human relationship.  He notes that in a contract, we demand certain kinds of behavior from other people and leave room for penalties if the contract is violated.  Once the contract term is ended, both parties walk away, hopefully satisfied.  A contract is marked by calculated trust, protection against risk and impermanence.

A covenant, on the other hand, goes far beyond demanding specific behaviors.  In a covenant, the hope is that each party learns to value the other.  Rather than being forced or compelled to fulfill a contract, in a covenant, each party takes the risk of trusting the other and becomes vulnerable to the other.  Rather than ending with a term, both covenant partners move toward a future of togetherness in which the relationship doesn’t end but is deepened and fulfilled.

God doesn’t force Israel to be faithful; God moves among the Israelites, accompanying them despite their unfaithfulness, and invites them to be part of this relationship.  The people are called not merely to follow the Law but to “love God.”  God doesn’t merely do things for them; God loves them and claims them (Jeremiah 30:22), in a move that Bishop Miller’s “identification” recalls.  More than this, according to Herman, God and Israel are vulnerable to each other.  God needs Israel to fulfill God’s plan; Israel needs God to bring the plan to full flower.  They depend on one another.

So much charity seems like a contract.  Those with resources share them with the expectation that those who receive charity will be deserving and grateful.  One party receives resources, the other receives the rewarding feeling of having done some good.  Not only is this often based on distrust (“How do we know they are really poor and not scammers?” so many ask), but in some ways it depends on there being a steady supply of people in poverty to serve as contract partners.  Otherwise, how would people with resources feel the satisfaction of charity?

Seeing ministry as a covenant, though, means moving toward a future together.  It means taking a risk, not only that we might be “scammed” – that’s the small risk – but that we might be called to change how we see the world and how we live within it.  It means recognizing our vulnerability to each other.  It means people with resources seeing themselves as equally needy and recognizing that God meets those needs through the neighbor.  It means moving together toward a new future, one in which the suffering of poverty is ended and not merely “addressed.”

Above all else, it means recognizing that God has called us and claimed us for the sake of our relationship with one another.  In a shared world of interdependence, we will be in relationship with each other.  What has been given to us is to determine whether that relationship is a mutual, life-affirming covenant or a one-sided, termed contract.  To which are we called as people of faith?

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