Paul’s Humbly Firm Request

Henry Martinez

The word advocacy does not appear in the letter to Philemon. Interestingly, the word commonly translated as advocate (paraclete) appears a few times in John’s gospel, once in 1 John and nowhere else in the New Testament. But Paul’s letter to Philemon is a helpful example of how theology and practicality come together in a personal advocacy-like appeal. It seems lazy to consider only a few verses of Philemon since the book is so short, but the following passage provides a glimpse at Paul’s tone and strategy.

For this reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love—and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus. I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I wanted to keep him with me, so that he might be of service to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel; but I preferred to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced. (Philemon 1:8-14)

Onesimus was a slave in Philemon’s house who, for some reason, may have wronged Philemon and somehow found Paul. We can only guess if Onesimus knew of Paul’s influence or had hoped for a result other than the one Paul was willing to provide. But from this letter it is evident that Paul has chosen to come alongside Onesimus and speak out on his behalf to someone who has sway over Onesimus’ future. One of the key moves in this letter is Paul’s emphasis on the change in Onesimus’ status. The change from “useless” to “useful” may be more rhetorical than descriptive, but the change from slave to beloved brother (v.16) demands more attention.

Paul is able to call Philemon brother because of the new identity they share in Christ. His appeal is for Philemon to see his relationship with Onesimus in the same way, that is, through Christ. This of course hadn’t settled the issue of slavery or how Christians should respond to it as an institution. But his appeal works in a different way. Paul appeals to Philemon’s faith in Christ knowing that it is something that has shaped him as well as the community to which he belongs. Since this faith has influenced Philemon’s attitude, Paul is hopeful that it will influence his relationships as well. In this case, Philemon has a claim on Onesimus that Paul wants to contextualize in terms of faith in Christ. Since Christ’s self-giving love demonstrates what laying down power looks like, Paul is presenting Philemon with the opportunity to do the same with Onesimus. He is not appealing to some general ethic of looking out for the interest of someone in need (which is not a uniquely Christian idea), but Paul is asking Philemon to set aside worldly power for the sake of Christian love. At some unidentified point, the two become incompatible.

When interpreting Philemon it is difficult to ignore the passages that seem slightly passive aggressive, if not opaque. First is the fact that the letter is addressed not just to Philemon, but to the church in his home. What was Paul hoping the others would do with this? He also notes that he is bold enough to command Philemon but chooses not to. What function does this serve if not to appeal to Paul’s stature in the community? There is another subtle move. Paul has been building his case through verse 13, then backs off just for a moment to recognize Philemon’s agency in the matter by stating that he wants this to be something voluntary rather than forced. Paul is not afraid to tell Philemon what he should do but he concedes that the choice is Philemon’s. Finally, Paul tells Philemon to get the guest room ready because he is planning to visit. The request may of course be innocent, but it may also be Paul’s way of saying he is coming to see for himself how things shook out.

What does this mean for how we understand advocacy? There may be some useful tactics for us to employ. However, it probably isn’t as simple as trying to identify parallels between this letter and our contemporary context; a significant discrepancy being that we aren’t usually on equal footing with Paul regarding the leveraging ability of our advocacy efforts. It requires a special relationship to even be received like Paul. I would offer that it has something substantial to say to us about how we understand power. Whether we have the influence of Paul or not, aligning our voice (individual and collective) with another’s need, especially the most vulnerable, is part of how we express our faith in Christ. In this way it is both with humility and boldness that we write to legislators, seek to change policy, and try to build relationships with our neighbors.

To find out more about advocacy efforts and resources in the ELCA visit http://www.elca.org/Our-Work/Publicly-Engaged-Church/Advocacy.

Daily Work — Making a Difference in the Lives of Immigrants

Julie Hoff

Imagine.

You are smart and charming. You’re motivated to succeed. You’ve moved across the world, left behind your friends and family, and embraced a very different culture to start a new life, hopefully a better life, in America.

But your first year here was really tough. You lived in a homeless shelter because you couldn’t find a job or an affordable place to live. Because you are a new immigrant, you are ineligible for most forms of public assistance. Even though you’re a college graduate, it doesn’t matter in America because you weren’t educated here. Plus, it’s almost impossible to get a call back for a job interview, because no one knows how to pronounce your name, and rather than call you, employers simply move on to the next candidate.

Imagine you are Baryogar (pronounced buy-yo-gar), who came to the United States as a refugee from Liberia. In Liberia, Baryogar had jobs in human resources and bookkeeping. But when he arrived in America, Baryogar couldn’t find any job.

Baryogar and Sarah

“When I came here, I didn’t have any idea of American culture. In Africa, it is a sign of disrespect to look in someone’s face. I had to learn in America, it is the opposite. Without Daily Work’s help, I would not have learned those things and I would not have gotten a job,” Baryogar said.

Founded as a Lutheran ministry in 2000 by a collaboration of ELCA pastors in St. Paul, Minnesota, Daily Work’s mission is to assist job seekers by helping them prepare for, find and maintain work that enables them to support themselves and their families. We operate from two ELCA churches in the Twin Cities: Christ on Capitol Hill in St. Paul and Christ the King in New Brighton.

Baryogar is one of more than 750 people affected by joblessness and poverty who have come through Daily Work’s doors to get the personalized help they need to transform their lives and become contributing members of the workforce. Today, more than 60 percent of the people Daily Work serves are immigrants, most of who are from the African countries of Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Liberia.

Baryogar continues to work as a nursing assistant in the same job Daily Work helped him find in 2007. His transition to America, while challenging, also came with some advantages. For example, English is the official language in Liberia, which meant that Baryogar had significantly better English skills than many other new immigrants. Baryogar was also a refugee, which enabled him to receive some refugee support and public assistance for up to eight months following his arrival in America. (However, most immigrants to Minnesota are not eligible for these types of supports. To learn more, read hereabout how medical assistance has been cut in Minnesota.)

Typically, the immigrants Daily Work serves come to the U.S. by “winning” a diversity visa. The Diversity Immigrant Visa program is a congressionally mandated lottery program that annually makes available 55,000 permanent resident visas to natives of countries deemed to have low rates of immigration to the United States.

According to Abera, another Daily Work job seeker and visa lottery winner, it was shocking to find out how hard it is to get a job in America and provide for his family here…and in Africa. Many immigrant families expect the family member now in America to send money home to Africa to help support them.

“I came here because I heard America is the land of opportunity. Everybody wishes to come to America. Life is very hard in Africa, the income from jobs in Africa is not enough to make a life and the politics are very unstable. In order to afford to come here, my family sold their family home to pay for all the expenses for me and my wife to move here. It was a big sacrifice for them because now my mother must live in a public house,” Abera said.

Abera

Abera first came to Daily Work in mid-2012, about 18 months after moving to America. In that time, he had worked four different, temporary jobs that kept ending in lay-off. In the fall of 2012, Abera again came to Daily Work after being laid-off from another temp job. In addition to helping him put together a better resume and cover letter, his Daily Work counselor suggested that he take a 10-week job training course through another local nonprofit organization.

“Abera needed something new on his resume that demonstrated his work ethic and drive to succeed,” said Julie Hoff, Daily Work Executive Director. “We felt that taking this course would give him a bigger network, fresh information on his resume, and of course, some new skills to showcase to employers,” Hoff said.

The strategy worked! Today, Abera has a year of steady work history. He currently works two full-time jobs, one as a security officer and the other as a customer service provider at an airport. While he knows he still has a long way to go to achieve his goal to be a small business owner, Abera feels good about the progress he has made in the past year.

“This is all possible for me because of help from Daily work. Now this day is brighter for me because I can help myself and my family. Having a good work means to me that I have more options to develop my career and take care of my family, both here and in Africa,” he said, smiling.

These are just two examples of the immense challenges new, legal immigrants face when moving to the U.S. While most of the focus on immigration today is about border issues and undocumented immigrants, there are many barriers and issues that new, legal residents of the United States face, including lack of financial support following arrival, difficult immigration laws that keep families apart, and unfair employment practices that both discriminate against and take advantage of immigrants who will do anything to survive.

On top of that, new immigrants face tremendous challenges just to learn English and drive a car, obtain new education and job skills that American employers value, and simply understand and adapt to American culture. As native-born Americans, we have had 20 years or more to gain the key assets needed to obtain living wage work: English language skills, cultural competence, formal education, and driving skills. Imagine if you had to learn all these things in a matter of weeks or months and support your family at the same time.

Daily Work was founded by ELCA pastors who believe that we are called to serve others and to share our personal gifts in meaningful ways. The ELCA, its congregations, and people like you play an important role in helping new immigrants by starting and supporting programs in your communities like Daily Work; but you can also make a difference by speaking out as voices for reform. Please consider what you can do to make life better for someone new to America. To learn more about immigration reform and the challenges facing immigrants, check out the resources below.

Challenges Facing New Immigrants and Refugees

Reform Immigration for America

Fair Immigration Reform Movement

Campaign for Community Change

Julie Hoff is the Executive Director of Daily Work in St. Paul, Minnesota. Daily Work is a nonprofit organization supported, in part, by a Hunger Education grant from ELCA World Hunger.

“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.

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.

Book Review: Fresh Fruit, Broken Bodies

Henry Martinez

fresh fruit broken bodies In 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 migration Map showing major migration streams in the United States.

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?

At the Gate: A look at accompaniment in Acts 3:1-10

Henry Martinez

Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. (Acts 3:4-6)

In the follow up to his gospel, Luke goes to great lengths to show how the Holy Spirit is given to the apostles and what this gift means for their ministry and the life of the early believers. Implicit in the purpose of Acts, so it seems, is the apostles’ faithful witness to the person of Jesus and God’s gift of the Holy Spirit that enables their activity and mission. The ministry of Jesus is left in their hands. In other words, you can smell this healing story coming from a mile away. At the risk of simplifying the matter, the arc of a healing story can be understood as follows: problem—solution—proof.

The problem is realized as the scene opens on a man who is carried to church (I’m contextualizing here) by some faithful friends every day. As worshipers file past, the man at the gate collects whatever alms they can spare. The people go in to become the worshiping body, the man stays at the gate. Enter Peter and John.

After a stare from each of them (I wonder how awkward that was), the Spirit moves Peter and John to do something more than give money. If they did have silver or gold, Luke probably would have told us they gave that as well. The healing/solution works well for Luke’s purposes, but it leaves us with a question: “If we’ve been given the Holy Spirit, why can’t it be this easy for us?” Why aren’t lives healed or made new with a simple command? Why isn’t poverty solved with a job? Why isn’t more food, money, or help enough? The man walks – leaps for joy even – and praises God, but in a way he is getting ready for healing of another kind.

The final step of the healing is the proof, which we read in verse 10: “and they recognized him as the one who used to sit and ask for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple…” This confirms the healing act of the apostles, but I almost wish Luke, the author of the gospel story where the dinner host orders the servant to invite the poor, crippled, blind and lame (Luke 14:21) would have emphasized the other drama that unfolds here. Something like: “and he recognized them as the ones who passed him by at the gate of the temple as they went on to pray.”

The healing story is the introduction to another chapter not written in the book of Acts. It is a chapter that begins as the crowd disperses from Solomon’s Portico and the man walks away for the first time. Just as he has to learn what it is like to walk, he also has to confront his feelings that come from knowing what it is like to be passed by your whole life. Meanwhile, the rest of the community has to come to terms with the likelihood that their response to the man’s previous condition affects any relationship with him from here on out. The man and the community have to learn how to walk together in a new relationship, one that requires a different kind of healing, though nonetheless guided by the spirit.

In one way it looks like Peter and John just went in and fixed the man (and this isn’t Luke’s fault). But in another way we begin to see that God’s healing spirit is also needed as we stumble through the relationships we have with one another. Only by the work of the spirit are we able to recognize the barriers in our midst that before looked as innocent as gates.

Henry Martinez is an education associate with ELCA World Hunger.

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