Intimate Partner Violence: A Hunger Issue

Ryan P. Cumming

There are plenty of barriers to employment in the US right now. The exporting of jobs to other nations, the shift from manufacturing to service and technology as central industries, and the rising costs of higher education are often dissected and discussed in articles and books on unemployment and poverty. But what happens when the obstacle to full employment – the kind of employment that can guarantee a sufficient, sustainable livelihood – comes not from market forces or politicians but from the actions of intimate partners?

This is precisely the case for many women, according to a significant body of research. The National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey conducted in 2010 found that nearly 30% of women in the United States are victims of intimate partner violence (IPV).[1] The survey included rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner as examples of violence, but the researchers did not measure other forms of IPV such as sexual coercion, psychological aggression, or control of reproductive or sexual health (like when a partner refuses to wear a condom.) Had they done so, it is likely that the rate of IPV would have been higher.

While people of any gender, sexuality, age, or economic status can be victims of IPV, vulnerability to violence is not the same for everyone. Women are more vulnerable than men (nearly three to one), and women residing in low-income households are more vulnerable than women in middle-income and upper-income households. In fact, women in households with an annual income less than $7500 were more than six times more likely to experience violence than women in households earning more than $50,000 per year, according to a study published in 2007. This isn’t just true of these two levels of household income, however; researchers found that as household income decreases, the rate of victimization increases, particularly for female members of the household. That said, while some groups may be statistically more vulnerable than others, IPV is not merely one more social ill that attaches to poverty. While the rates of IPV among economic classes may differ, IPV is still a reality for women, especially, of any class.

The relationship between violence and poverty for women is complex. Many women who lack the means to support themselves and their children on their own can often feel trapped in abusive relationships. Staying with an abuser may mean suffering physical, sexual, or psychological violence, but leaving may mean living without shelter, without access to food, or without other goods necessary for life. Leaving may also mean placing oneself at risk of increased violence.

Yet, being in an abusive relationship can also mean facing significant obstacles to escaping a life of poverty. In a 2004 article published in the Journal of Poverty, Lisa D. Brush found a “clear association” between vulnerability to abuse and vulnerability to poverty. While researchers are not sure how violence is related to poverty (Does violence make women more vulnerable to poverty? Does poverty make women more vulnerable to violence?), there is ample evidence to suggest that the two are related. In her study, Brush found a strong correlation between IPV and some kinds of economic challenges. Women who experienced intimate partner violence earned less money, had more difficulty paying bills, and experienced slightly higher rates of food insecurity than women who did not . Brush also found that, for some women, the violence they experienced from intimate partners was specifically related to work. This “work-related violence” included physical beatings, threats, and physical restraint from going to work. As is often the case, control, domination, and abuse weren’t limited to overt violence, however. Intimate partners also sabotaged women’s efforts to work by failing to show up for childcare, stealing cars or keys, or behaving inappropriately at the woman’s place of work.

This is not to say that women in these kinds of situations are totally helpless. Psychology professor Sherry Hamby (Sewanee, The University of the South) described a variety of common “protective” strategies in her report for the National Online Resource Center on Violence against Women. In reviewing recent research, Hamby found that women will protect themselves, children, and even pets from harm in many different ways, including contacting law enforcement, confiding in friends and family, and (even temporarily) leaving unsafe situations. Other “invisible strategies” include opening bank accounts and saving money (which can help increase the other options available to them), coaching children on how to escape from a potentially violent episode, returning to school to increase job prospects, and seeking help from therapists and advocates. Each of these strategies helps women – even when faced with economic challenges – exercise agency in situations that often threaten their well-being and freedom.

The link between IPV and economic insecurity is still real, even if researchers can’t yet document all of its complexity. One step congregations can take is to learn more. This is urgent, not only for congregations with ministries among women from low-income households, but for any congregation. While it is important to understand the complex links between vulnerability to violence and vulnerability to poverty, it’s also important to learn more and help raise awareness about the high rates of IPV among women of all economic classes. The ELCA’s Justice for Women website is a great place to start. There, you can find resources like the 2010 booklet on “Ministry with the Abused,” a joint project of the ELCA and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada. FaithTrust Institute has excellent resources, as well. And this 2013 episode of PBS’s “Religion and Ethics Newsweekly” is a great way to spark conversations about the church’s role in confronting violence against women. Later in 2014, ELCA members will also have an opportunity to participate in the development of our church’s social message on gender-based violence. The public comment period for this message will be open from mid-September to mid-November. You can read more here.

The other important step is to advocate with victims of intimate partner violence and, particularly, with women. Abusing another human being seems like a personal choice, but even our most “intimate” choices happen within social and political contexts. For women in abusive relationships, that context includes systems which minimize the reality of gender-based violence, legal structures and practices which can become obstacles to women’s agency, and economic structures that still today do not value the labor of women as highly as the labor of men. Gender-based violence is not just a behavioral issue; it is a social issue. And, research indicates, it is a hunger issue. The intersections researchers have found between violence, hunger and poverty may be complex, but they are nevertheless real and challenge all of us to learn more about what accompaniment means for people of faith in this context.

(My thanks to Mary Streufert, Ph.D, for her assistance with this post. Dr. Streufert is Director of Justice for Women project for the ELCA.)

Ryan P. Cumming, Ph.D., is Program Director of Hunger Education for ELCA World Hunger.

[1] The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention define “intimate partner violence” as “physical, sexual, or psychological harm by a current or former partner or spouse.” CDC, “Intimate Partner Violence” (2014), available athttp://www.cdc.gov/ViolencePrevention/intimatepartnerviolence/index.html?s_cid=fb_vv487. The National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey can be found at www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/nisvs/index.html.

Women’s Literacy in Liberia

Ryan P. Cumming

It’s a sad fact of history that women’s bodies become “battlefields” in situations of armed conflict. Rape, trafficking, maiming and death are among the immediate threats women face when war breaks out. But the long-term effects of conflict can be severe, too, especially when women face sexual violence during war. This is true of the women of Bong and Lofa Counties in Liberia, many of whom were victims of rape during the civil war in their country. The obstacles they face providing for themselves and their children are serious, especially when coupled with the insufficient education they can access in Liberia.

Recently, the Liberian government has tried to make strides in improving the quality of and access to education, especially for women and girls. Still, though, less than half of the adult population is literate. Recognizing the importance of literacy, the Lutheran Church in Liberia (LCL) in 2014 has started the “Young and Adult Women Basic Bilingual Literacy Project,” intended to help vulnerable women gain the skills they need to feed themselves and their children.

Remember the old saying, “Knowledge is power”? That is certainly true of the women associated with this project, some of whom “were born either before or during the heat of our civil war [and] most of whom are single mothers and solely depend on selling petite market [items] to support their children.” Despite their experiences during the long conflict – many of their children were born as a result of rape, according to the LCL – the women are “breadwinners” and vital members of their communities. Yet, their inability to read, write and count large numbers means that they are often on “the losing end” of transactions in the marketplace. Literacy means not only the ability to read and write – it can mean the difference between sustainable and unsustainable livelihood for themselves and their communities.

To support them in their efforts, the LCL will work with rural women in Liberia to teach them basic math and reading, skills that the LCL believes will not only benefit the women themselves but “have great potential to lift their communities from neglect.” Because of the skills, creativity and industry of women in these communities, the support offered by LCL’s program will have wide-reaching effects.

In addition to teaching nearly 300 women to read and write, the project will also create hundreds of educational resources, train teachers, and establish learning centers in the community. Moreover, the LCL will also teach women and girls basic skills in English, increasing their ability to participate in the marketplace and seek further education.

By listening to the needs – illiteracy, poverty, trauma – and the assets – strong women leaders, industriousness, support for education – in the communities in Liberia, the LCL will implement a program with great potential. As companions of the LCL, the ELCA has been invited to be part of this great work through the support of a grant from ELCA World Hunger. This year, Liberian women will be supported in their work by your gifts to ELCA World Hunger. Together, our communities can move from vulnerability to possibility and from possibility to sustainability. Thank you!

Ryan P. Cumming is the Program Director of Hunger Education for ELCA World Hunger. You can reach him at Ryan.Cumming@ELCA.org.

Carrying the Cross in Public

Ryan P. Cumming

protest2

Used with permission from Boston at en.wikipedia

In the summer of 2012, Junior Garcia carried a 12-foot wooden cross from his home in Texas to Washington, DC, in an attempt to share the gospel in the public square.

In February of this year, a secular group filed a lawsuit to remove a 40-foot tall cross from public land in a suburb of Washington, DC. A quick Google search will reveal lots of similar stories.

What does it mean to bear the cross in public? This is a question that has been on my mind a lot as I prepare to join other Christians in Washington, DC, for Ecumenical Advocacy Days this weekend. I sincerely doubt that many of us will show up with literal crosses on our backs. And erecting a marble/wooden/plastic cross on the National Mall doesn’t appear on my copy of the agenda. Yet, many of us will travel to Washington believing that people marked by the cross have something worthwhile to say in the public square. We will carry the cross in public, to the halls of our government.

Too often, Christians have carried the cross in public with a steady supply of nails, ready to pin down and condemn their neighbors. The public face of Christianity in America, it seems to me, is too often a posse of crucifiers, rather than a communion gathered around the crucified. To bear the cross in public does not mean fighting over monuments or carrying literal crosses, and it certainly does not mean entering political life with a readiness to put others on the cross. As Lutherans, we believe that we are marked by the cross in baptism and shaped by it for our whole lives. We are a cruciform (“cross-shaped”) people, who bear our mark in private – at home or church – and in public – as workers and citizens. And this must mean something more profound than either of the alternatives above.

To bear the cross, to enter politics and public life as one shaped by the cross, is to be marked by three qualities: humility, honesty and love.

Humility

The cross is a problem that confounded early Christians and continues to confound us. Christian history is filled with attempts to explain the cross, but the cross is nothing short of a scandal. To bear the troubling cross is to carry with us the humble awareness that we don’t have all the answers. The cross restrains those who would enter the public square with a triumphalist Christianity as much as it chastens those who believe that any human government or policy or law can ultimately solve all the world’s problems.

The first person who reveals Jesus’ true identity in the Gospel of Mark is the most unlikely of characters: “Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man was the Son of God!'” (Mark 15:39). In the Gospel of Luke, it is from a common criminal, executed with Jesus, that we hear a clear pronouncement of Jesus’ innocence and a sustaining faith in the coming Kingdom of God (Luke 23:39-43).

To be marked by the cross is also to recognize that wisdom and clear sight are gifts God grants in unlikely places, to unexpected people. Cross-shaped advocates recognize this and remain open to this wisdom wherever it arises. This means being open to dialogue and discernment with a variety of people. Being shaped by the openness that comes from humility, we know that public life is lived in common, among people with diverse gifts.

Honesty

To bear the cross is to be marked by honesty. We know as well as Isaiah did that “truth stumbles in the public square” (Is. 59:14). Yet, as cross-shaped advocates, we are called to speak the truth from a long tradition of truth-tellers, ancestors like Moses, who “spoke truth to tyrannical power” (Paul Hanson, Political Engagement as Biblical Mandate, p. 32) and Amos, who refused to be silent in the face of injustice.

Most of us know the famous story of David and Bathsheba. David saw Bathsheba bathing, desired her and so arranged for the death of her husband. After David had claimed her for his own, the prophet Nathan told him the story of a rich man who cheated a poor man out of the one small lamb that the poor man had raised (see 2 Samuel 12:1-15). “Who is this man? He deserves to die!” David exclaimed, to which Nathan, in an ironic turn, shouts, “You are the man!” Nathan holds a mirror up to David to reveal to the king his own injustice. Sent by God, Nathan dares to speak the truth when power becomes corrupt.

The cross, too, is a mirror. We see in its torturous use the oppressive power of the Roman empire. It reveals to us the depth of human sin which would lead us to kill our own savior. There is nothing joyous or triumphant here; there is simply a body broken by the political and religious power that sin corrupts. To bear the cross is to hold up a mirror to a sinful world. This means channeling Nathan and speaking the truth in the face of injustice. It means telling the stories many don’t wish to hear. Truth demands that we speak up, with and, sometimes, for those who really are “left behind”: the poor, the marginalized and the excluded.

Love

Yet, to carry the cross is also to be a loving presence within the public square. The cross reveals the depth of human sin, but it also reveals the more profound depths of God’s love. And the empty cross reveals that, in the end, it is God’s love – and not human sin – which wins out. The cross reveals a broken humanity, persons whose lives are one long via dolorosa, who cannot overcome injustice on their own. To carry the cross in public is to accompany in love those who are treated unjustly.

To be a Christian advocate for justice demands – and offers – much more than dogged pursuit of a policy or a position. Perhaps by taking up our cross as Lutherans, we can showcase a faithful citizenship that is loving, just and worth listening to.

Ryan P. Cumming, Ph.D., is the Program Director of Hunger Education for ELCA World Hunger. Ryan.Cumming@ELCA.org

“But they’re here ILLEGALLY!”

Ryan Cumming

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.

My Friend’s House and Pebbles Phillips

Ryan P. Cumming

“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 Azure3 Pebbles’ 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.

Contracts, Covenants and Charity

Ryan Cumming

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?

Review of Robert Lupton’s Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help

Ryan P. Cumming January 9, 2014

Robert D. Lupton, Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help. New York: HarperOne, 2012.

Recently, a friend who does ministry in an urban area expressed his frustration with “mission trips”. “These groups call us all the time and they want to come down and do projects that don’t help us. We try to tell them about what we’re doing and how they can help, but they don’t listen. They just want to paint walls or pick up trash. Even worse, they tell us that we’re doing it wrong.”

Toxic Charity captures this divide in writing that is perceptive and prophetic, even if not always persuasive. Lupton tells of the church in Mexico that was painted six times by six groups one summer, the gift-giving program that left the fathers of children feeling emasculated and inadequate, and the tile floor in a Cuban seminary that was inexpertly laid by novice volunteers as skilled local laborers were left without work.

Lupton’s criticisms of the billion-dollar charity industry are important, and we should listen to them. His suggestions for transforming ministries are also thought-provoking, as is the “oath for compassionate service” he describes in later chapters. Its principles, in fact, coincide with the ELCA’s method of accompaniment and are vitally important for authentic and effective service.

Because of these high points, it is easy to mutter “amen” while reading. Lupton does a great job pointing out the problems of some forms of direct service of the poor. But for a church that also does public advocacy, his book has some remarkable shortcomings.

One criticism is that Lupton moves uncritically between uplifting the capacity and creativity of the poor and degrading them as lazy and dishonest. “Most [panhandlers] are scammers,” he states (45). Most poor people in the United States “assume that their subsistence is guaranteed” and so lack any kind of work ethic, he claims (121). I won’t dignify his words with the verb “argues” because Lupton doesn’t argue his points; he simply states them. I would be concerned that statements like this, when coupled with his criticisms of charity, would motivate more people to avoid service work in the first place than to engage in the community development he suggests.

His approach to the role of government is particularly troubling, again, given the lack of evidence he marshalls to defend his claims. “As a country,” he writes, “we understand that welfare creates unhealthy dependency [and] erodes the work ethic” (22). This indictment continues in his evaluation of international aid (given to the same people who, according to his own account, have the stronger work ethic that should make such aid effective).

The difficulty here is not his rejection or support of foreign aid or welfare. There are arguments to be made on both sides of the debate. The problem is that the only apparent research Lupton draws on is Dambisa Moyo’s controversial 2009 book Dead Aid. Outside of this, Lupton appears to draw on his own experience, which I admit is extensive, but this does not make for a well-defended argument. And this is vitally necessary when making statements about both the poor and government’s relationship to them that are far from self-evident.

For example, Lupton claims that “all our efforts to eliminate poverty have succeeded only in creating a permanent underclass, dismantling their family structures, and eroding their ethic of work” (3). Such a premise neglects the arguments that such programs have been woefully underfunded since the 1970s and so may be said to have been set up to fail. There may be structural and systemic reasons why poverty remains a problem. What is more, to blame poverty-elimination efforts for the “breakdown” of the family is a leap that requires defense and explanation. Such statements are common in political rhetoric, but if they are to influence churches (as Lupton desires) there at least should be some evidence demonstrating their truth.

That said, I still cautiously recommend the book. Clearly, Lupton touches a nerve when it comes to how the “haves” respond to the “have-nots.” And the similarities between his recommendations and the ELCA’s model of accompaniment create points of entry for talking and thinking about how we live faithfully in the midst of a complex world, where even our highest ideals fall short. Perhaps it may also be an occasion for drawing out some of these complexities in ways that Lupton ignores.

If your congregation or group is looking to do service on the frontlines or planning a mission trip, I strongly recommend Lupton’s book. But if your group is dealing with public policy issues or advocacy, I would suggest also looking at Sasha Abramsky’s The American Way of Poverty: How the Other Half Still Lives (reviewed here last month) or David Beckmann and Arthur Simon’s Grace at the Table: Ending Hunger in God’s World to balance Lupton’s claims.

Martin Luther’s Top Ten Quotes about Ministry among People in Poverty

“According to this passage [Matthew 25:41-46] we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress but is obliged to assist and help him as he himself would like to be helped.”

-Whether One May Flee from a Deadly Plague (1527)

“Christians are to be taught that the one who sees a needy person and passes by, yet gives money for indulgences, does not buy papal indulgences but God’s wrath.”

-Ninety-five Theses (1517), #45

“Let us also be generous [as Abraham was], and let us open the door to poor brethren and receive them with a joyful countenance. If we are deceived now and then, well and good. In spite of this our good will is demonstrated to God, and the kind act…is not lost on Christ, in whose name we are generous. Hence just as we should not intentionally and knowingly support the idleness of slothful people, so, when we have been deceived, we should not give up this eagerness to do good to others.”

-Lecture on Genesis, Chapter 18

“Therefore, we should be guided in all our works by this one thought alone – that we may serve and benefit others in everything that is done, having nothing before our eyes except the need and advantage of the neighbor.”

-Freedom of a Christian (1520)

“But in times past, [Holy Communion] was so properly used, and the people were taught to understand this fellowship so well, that they even gathered food and material goods in the church, and there – as St. Paul writes in I Corinthians 11 – distributed among those in need.”

-The Blessed Sacrament of the Holy and True Body of Christ, and the Brotherhoods (1519)

“For this reason, true theology and recognition of God are in the crucified Christ…God can be found only in suffering and the cross.”

-Heidelberg Disputation (1518)

“Now there is no greater service of God than Christian love which helps and serves the needy, as Christ himself will judge and testify at the last day, Matthew 25.”

-Ordinance of a Common Chest, Preface (1523)

“The rule ought to be, not ‘I may sell my wares as dear as I can or will,’ but, ‘I may sell my wares as dear as I ought, or as is right and fair.’ Because your selling is an act performed toward your neighbor, it should rather be so governed by law and conscience that you do it without harm and injury to him, your concern being directed more toward doing him no injury than toward gaining profit for yourself.”

-Trade and Usury (1524)

“We do not serve others with an eye toward making them obligated to us. Nor do we distinguish between friends and enemies or anticipate their thankfulness or ingratitude.”

-Freedom of a Christian (1520)

“If your enemy needs you and you do not help him when you can it is the same as if you had stolen what belonged to him, for you owe him your help. St. Ambrose says, ‘Feed the hungry: if you do not feed him, then as far as you are concerned, you have killed him.’ ”

-Treatise on Good Works (1520), reflecting on the seventh commandment

Sacrifice

As many of us enjoy an extended holiday weekend and approach Memorial Day, the word sacrifice is a crucial part of why this weekend, this holiday, this day of remembrance is so important. I think of many people I’ve never known and will never meet fighting wars overseas, fighting for what they believe in and for the ideals upon which this country was founded. Though many do not agree with our administration’s and past administrations’ choices, one thing most people seem to agree on is the importance of showing our support to those who do battle—literally—in the name of our shared freedom and the countless ideals and privileges we sometimes take for granted while going about our busy days.

I especially think of my grandfather who was a waist gunner in World War II—a generation whose very existence called for the selflessness of sacrifice and service to the neighbor. Though we are generations removed from that period of our history, many veterans from that and wars since walk among us.

We honor all our veterans and current enlisted servicemen and servicewomen with our own sacrifice. That which we choose to do without or give to others so that a different group of people whom we may never meet can have something to eat. We give of ourselves, our worldly possessions, and whatever means we have to boldly denounce the pervasive and destructive reality of hunger and poverty affecting a billion people in God’s world.

Let us further honor those who sacrifice themselves for others and for what they believe in by sacrificing something of our own so that people with little to eat might have a chance for a better life.

–Aaron Cooper is writer-editor for ELCA World Hunger

Hunger Network Supports Brothers and Sisters in Haiti, Other Countries during Disasters

Disaster strikes. Then what? Pray, donate money, help people. Do what you can as you follow the story in the media. Haiti. Chile. Malawi. Name the disaster of the month as we approach hurricane season and are called to respond at a moment’s notice when our brothers and sisters are in need, usually around the world but sometimes in our own backyards.

Photo by Paul Jeffrey, ACT International

When devastation engulfed Haiti on January 12, organizations around the world clamored to touch down on Haitian soil let alone begin instituting any kind of aid that would respect the hurting local infrastructure and Haitian people. But the ELCA was already there, already in Haiti working with and through Lutherans to build better communities and improve lives.

ELCA World Hunger has been on the ground in Haiti for many years, providing millions of dollars and supporting many programs through local work of The Lutheran World Federation (LWF). It’s because of this work on the ground and relationships with the LWF and partner organizations like Action by Churches Together (ACT) that the ELCA is able to take your gifts and translate them quickly into food, water, clothing and shelter for people who need it now more than ever.

Gifts to ELCA World Hunger and ELCA Disaster Response are providing water. A water purification system with pipes, filters and pumps transported from freezing-cold Norway to scorching-hot Haiti is providing 10,000 homeless Haitians with clean drinking water. The ACT Alliance brought in desperately needed special water and sanitation facilities. The “water factory” is based in the Belair neighborhood of Port-au-Prince and provided the first clean water many people had access to after the earthquake.

Long before the spotlights cast themselves on the poorest country in the Western hemisphere and long after they will have faded, the ELCA has worked, is working, and will continue to work on the ground in Haiti for justice and stability.

The ELCA is present in many countries throughout the world, working through companion churches and with international partner organizations to provide the daily relief and development work that can, in a moment’s notice, support a readied infrastructure of support when disaster strikes already poverty-filled areas.

–Aaron Cooper is writer-editor for ELCA World Hunger