Paul Hawken gave the commencement address for the University of Portland earlier this month, and it’s making the rounds. I thought it was brilliant. Here’s a link to the address.
Paul Hawken gave the commencement address for the University of Portland earlier this month, and it’s making the rounds. I thought it was brilliant. Here’s a link to the address.
Have you held a freecycle yet? The one I held in April helped pare down my belongings in advance of my move. But now the realtor says I have to make my place look like a catalog spread—spare, spare, spare. And my 1200 books? “Just keep the pretty ones,” she said. (Oh, how that hurt!)
More stuff has to go—at least into storage, if not into someone else’s hands. That means more decisions. Giving the office table to my church for its basement dinners is easy. Debating whether to keep or release the extra set of plates and flatware for 24 is tougher. And what about those old Legos?
I have one week. One week. On the other side of this intense discernment I hope to find freedom—freedom from too much stuff; freedom of moving closer to a clear sense of what’s enough, for this life stage and the next.
Anne Basye
I just finished reading Peter Singer’s new book, The Life You Can Save. The book is engaging and accessible and argues persuasively not only why we should give but also how much is reasonable for us to give.
All in all I enjoyed the book and encourage you to spend some time with it. For those of you in the Chicago area, a group will gather to discuss the book on June 11 at 7:30pm at United Lutheran Church in Oak Park (409 Greenfield Street). I invite you to join us for what promises to be a lively dialogue!
David Creech
I ran across a quote today that struck me as really strange. It was in an article about a group of atheists who are putting ads on public buses. They were unable to do so in Indianapolis, due to a “policy barring ads ‘involving or referring to political, religious, moral or environmental issues subject to public debate.'”
Which one of these is not like the others? It seems something of a well-known adage that the topics of politics and religion are to be avoided in polite conversation. And somehow I can pretty easily fit morals into that same general bucket. But environmental issues? Isn’t that on a different level of specificity than the others? I’m mean, sure, it can be a controversial topic just like religion and politics. But so can health care, education, immigration, and many other things. So what about the environment makes it something to be named alongside the old adage stand-bys in municipal policy?
Perhaps it’s because the environment and its impact on people’s lives and livelihoods has become enough of a concern for there to be public debate about it. Perhaps there’s something about Indianapolis’ environment that makes it an especially touchy subject there. But regardless of the exact reason, to have reached this level of taboo, it is clearly a problem. And that being the case, there must be a better policy than avoidance for addressing it.
I became a mother for the first time in October, 1997. Even though I knew I would love my child, I was unprepared for the completeness and intensity of my love for my son. I was also unprepared for the fact that I began to see my child in the faces and lives of other children, children known to me and children not known to me. I became a better pastor and teacher when I became a mother. I recognized the triumphs and fears in the parents and children around me. They seemed very real and very familiar.
At this same time, it was also hard for me to see pictures of and read articles about children who were hurt or were starving. I knew it happened, of course, but I did not want to see evidence that children suffered so greatly. Those children were no longer abstract children to me. They were children who were someone’s greatest treasure.
My son is now eleven, and he has a brother and a sister. I now make myself read articles and books about hunger and poverty because I know that mothers whose children are hungry, love their children just as I love mine. I feel that I have to keep track of these women and their children in order to fulfill my call to preach and teach the Gospel. It is still hard. I cannot always look at the pictures, but I know that if their stories are not known and told, nothing will change. I work every day to hold on to my hope that hunger will end and that every mother’s treasured child will have enough.
The Rev. Stacy K. Johnson
Stacy Johnson, Ph.D., is an ELCA pastor and the author the new World Hunger curriculum, Taking Root: Hunger Causes, Hunger Hopes.
1) Focus on the children’s literature. Children are captivated by stories, especially good stories read well. Some of the discussion questions in the Grades 3 – 6 Leaders’ Guide will work for young children. Stay away from too many content questions, such as What was the man’s name? What did the child do? Instead, encourage children to think about the story with questions like, Why do you think the man did that? If you had been the child in the story, what would you have done?
2) Remember that young children are quite able. It is true that young children are not able to think abstractly about an abstract concept. They can, though, think about an abstract idea, like the justice of food distribution, if it is presented in a concrete way. Several activities in the curriculum including The Peanut Game, and Hunger Footprints would work for young children.
3) Emphasize activities and projects, including Neighbor Cookies, Junk Art Sculptures, Vases from the Recycling Bin, and Upside Down and Right Side Up Birdfeeders. These projects are very workable and enjoyable for young children.
4) Proclaim the focus Bible texts. Young children are just developing a concept of the Bible. It would be good for them to realize that the Bible has a concern for justice and also has much to say about hunger and poverty in our world.
Remember… curriculum is closer to a road map than a specific set of directions. Be creative and flexible!
Stacy Johnson, Ph.D., is an ELCA pastor and the author the new World Hunger curriculum, Taking Root: Hunger Causes, Hunger Hopes. She has agreed to post a couple of times on our blog to answer questions and provide suggestions.
I got new lenses in my eyeglasses last week. I had been noticing that distant signs weren’t quite as sharp as they used to be, so I wasn’t surprised that at my annual eye exam, the doctor said my prescription had changed. It wasn’t a big difference, but enough to warrant new lenses. I’ve been through many such adjustments since junior high, when I began wearing glasses.
As I drove away with my newly improved vision, I was thinking about how amazing it is that someone figured out such a simple way to make vision possible. Without my glasses, I can see clearly only about a foot or two away. Beyond that, things get blurry. But by putting some glass in front of my eyes, voila! Such a significant problem so easily fixed. Things snap into perfect focus and I can see the individual leaves on the tree across the street. And the lettering on street signs. And, back in junior high, the chalk board at the front of the room.
At which point it occurred to me: I don’t know how I would have made it through school without glasses. Indeed, so important is vision to school that our kindergartners are required to have an eye exam as part of their enrollment in public school.
If education is a critical component in combating poverty, so too is optometry. I’m fortunate on several counts. First, I live in a country with plenty of eye doctors, and I grew up in a family that had the means to take me to see one. I also was part of an education system that had plenty of books. Being nearsighted, even without glasses I still could have read anything up close. Without glasses, school would have been harder and I surely would not have done as well. But as long as I had access to books, I could have gotten the information I couldn’t see on the board.
But what of children in places that lack both optometrists and text books? Or children who simply lack access to those things? Or children who are farsighted and can’t see their books? I don’t know the percentage of children who need vision correction, but I’m guessing it’s not insignificant. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of children in one-room schools around the world, with or without text books, often without desks or even chairs, looking at a teacher and a board at the front of the room. But how many of the children in those pictures were wearing glasses? One more obstacle I’ve never really considered.
While we were in West Virginia visiting one of the sites affected by mountain top removal, I saw the stone monument above that, though weathered and difficult to read, quotes Psalm 95:4. In this verse, the psalmist asserts, “In God’s hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are God’s also.” This monument seemed to me to be a subtle protest against the hubris of the coal companies (and the government that empowered them) who felt that they had the right to simply lay claim to the mountains and utterly deface them.
Since my trip to Appalachia, I’ve continued to grapple with the concept of land ownership. As usual, I am still trying to find a coherent way of thinking about it. In the meantime, my son has been meandering around the house singing (with gusto) “This Land is Your Land,” courtesy of his kindergarten choir. So here are some preliminary thoughts.
As noted in an earlier post, this thinking began when Bishop Dunkin of the Western Maryland-West Virginia Synod informed me and my colleagues in Church and Society that coal companies owned the land under his house. In short, if a natural resource was found under his house that a company wanted to acquire, they hold the rights, and he would be forced to move. This is the case for 75% of the land in West Virginia. This felt somehow intuitively wrong.
We also heard the testimonies of two women who were suffering from the effects of land degradation. The biggest issue was water contamination. They were asked by one of my colleagues why they did not simply up and leave. The response was something along the lines of, “My family has lived on this land for 250 years. This is my land. The coal companies should be the ones going.” (While I could sympathize to a certain degree, I also wondered to myself, What about the Native Americans before her? What about the flora and fauna before all of us? Can we really lay claim to something that existed long before us and will continue to exist long after we are gone?)
The director of the Washington advocacy office, Drew Genszler, brought the Israel-Palestine issue into this discussion of land ownership. A key component (perhaps the key component) in that conflict is defining who has the rights to the land. How many other violent conflicts around the world have rights to the land at the center?
These three stories of land ownership highlight for me some of the tensions inherent in our current conceptualization of land ownership. The two big problems for me are 1) The abuses (both to each other and to the earth) that can be justified because of a sense of ownership and 2) The conflicts that inevitably follow a claim to the land.
All of this said, some good can come from a clear definition of who has rights to the land. First, it strikes me as somehow fundamental to our sense of wellbeing to have a “place.” Perhaps it is learned, but the idea that coal companies could kick people out of their houses and off the land on a whim just doesn’t feel right. Second, in the current system, land and property rights make development possible. If someone knows that they own the land, they will make personal investments, knowing that they will be able to reap the benefits. Likewise, outsiders will be more likely to make investments, trusting that the owner of the land will be able to make good on his or (much less often) her promises, and if not, the bank or the lender will receive the collateral.
In this post that is already too long I’ve painted a picture in pretty broad strokes. I will follow up later this week with some theological musings on the topic. In the meantime I welcome your feedback and insight on the question.
David Creech