When push comes to shove.

Monday, July 5, 2010:

 Tonight has challenged me unexpectedly, and I think I need a continuation of my last post: all are invited to come and feast in the Kingdom of God.

I’ve been really struggling with what to do with begging.  The Roma (Gypsy) population in Eastern Europe is totally discriminated against.  It’s horrible.  As a result, they do constitute the majority (if not all) of the people I’ve seen begging here.  It’s especially common for them to send their children out to follow you around and beg for money: dirty, bedraggled kids, who stand there with hands outstretched muttering, “Please… please, money,” and looking utterly pathetic.  I just want to hug them and talk to them, but I don’t know the language.  I don’t give them money.  It tears at me.

On the way to Sarajevo from Banja Luka we stopped at the Bosnian equivalent of a tourist trap—this little town with a ton of food vendors, etc., right by this lovely little stream.  Needless to say, our group of Americans quickly attracted a couple little kids, who approached me with hands outstretched and the now-familiar question.  One girl asked, “What’s your name?” and I responded and asked for hers.  Esmerelda, she said.  I saw her again and again in the 30 minutes we were there.  I never gave her anything.  Two little boys came up to us as we were getting ice cream and asked for money—Melanie and I let them choose a flavor and bought them ice cream cones instead.  But still.  I didn’t really give them anything.

Every time!  I cannot meet a person begging and not be torn apart inside—and yet I ignore them every time!  Of course, I rationalize and wrestle; I know all the reasons not to give monetary handouts.  I know it’s not an effective long-term solution.  I know it sometimes just allows child abuse.  I mean, I remember one day in Cambodia actually seeing the kids run from our bus back to their dads, who were just lounging in the shade watching and angrily greeted their kids’ empty hands.  I was furious at that moment.  But I also remember, in Cambodia, walking past three beggars as we left the killing fields, and then getting on our shiny tourist bus and driving away from two examples of humanity in need.  Only one of those examples was already dead.

But even though I know the reasons not to just hand people money, I can’t help but read my Bible and feel like when Jesus says things like what he says in Luke 6:27-38 (go look it up, right now, seriously), he means it. 

So what does that mean for the Roma woman who tried to rob me tonight?  (A group of us were walking back to the hostel when suddenly I felt something, so I turned around and saw two women right behind me; I saw one of them whip her hand out of my backpack, leaving the pocket dangling wide open.  I had only put pens in that pocket, but still, I was rattled.)  I just zipped my bag up, grabbed on to it, and walked on.  I should have stopped.  I should have said I loved her.

All are invited to feast in the Kingdom of God.  Including those of us, like me, who are too wrapped up in our own security to love people who desperately need it.

Luke 6:27-38

“But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also.  If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic.  Give to everyone who asks of you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.  Do to others as you would have them do to you.

If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?  Even ‘sinners’ love those who love them.  And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you?  Even ‘sinners’ do that.  And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you?  Even ‘sinners’ lend to ‘sinners,’ expecting to be repaid in full.  But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.  Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons and daughters of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.  Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

Do not judge, and you will not be judged.  Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.  Forgive, and you will be forgiven.  Give, and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Christianity and immigration.

At the end of the school year, a group of students in my dorm organized a rally in protest of the immigration bill in Arizona, calling for comprehensive reform of a system that is broken, discriminatory, and unjust. Below is the rough draft of an article we are submitting to the Banner, a publication of the Christian Reformed Church.

CHRISTIAN ACTIVISM

"God defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt." (Deuteronomy 10:18-19)

Christians must be concerned about immigration.

Recently-passed immigration legislation in Arizona, and the proposal of similar bills in other states, should have Christians around the United States concerned. Many critics fear the bill will increase racial profiling and discrimination but fail to address the deepest failures of America's broken immigration system. In May, in recognition of the embedded problems in all of America's immigration law (not just Arizona), a group of students from Calvin College organized a rally to call attention to the embedded structural inequalities, human rights abuses, and destruction of families and communities that current immigration law perpetuates.

The Church seems to shy away from politics. But as authors like Rodney Clapp and Stanley Hauerwas remind us, the Church is political. It involves a specific vision of the way things ought to be--"shalom"--and communicates normative beliefs about life in this world. The Christian faith has never been about other-worldliness or pie-in-the-sky spirituality. Jesus' very incarnation bears witness to the importance of this world in the Kingdom of God.

But too often, involvement in this world has tarnished the church, dragging us into rabid party loyalties, political mudslinging, and idolatrous commitment to single-issue platforms. Instead of embodying a Christ-centered counterculture, the American church has often morphed into a subculture: a modified version of the culture at large. We have occasionally forgotten that our primary allegiance is not to the kingdoms of this world, but to the kingdom of heaven (John 18:36).

Certainly, Christians should engage in politics, but a different sort of politics. There are questions that must be asked about legality, economics, and border control. But those debates are secondary to our calling as Christians: to love God and to love our neighbor (even those who have entered this country illegally). If our laws prohibit us from offering them love and mercy, we must do whatever we can to change our laws, and give love and mercy anyway.

We must realize this: we worship a God who is love; thus, the Church must love the aliens among us--after all, we are also aliens here. We worship a God who is justice, and who commands us to act justly and love mercy (Micah 6:8). We worship a God who created all people in his image, and cares for the lives of each of them (Psalm 130:13).

After the rally, an older Hispanic man approached me, hand outstretched and tears in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, shaking my hand firmly. "We need you."

His words hit hard. The group of us who had organized the event had never dreamed of what it would bring: Spanish radio stations throughout West Michigan heard of our rally and put it on the air, bringing Hispanic families from all over Grand Rapids onto Calvin's campus in support. That afternoon, we watched in amazement as parents and children came from all directions, bolstering the crowd and attracting the curious stares of passing students.

The hugs and handshakes of appreciative community members after the rally taught us something unexpected. Never before had we thought about our amazing opportunity and responsibility, or what our act of support and hospitality would communicate to the Hispanic population of Grand Rapids. In our advocacy, we were showing them love and grace; in our activism, we were trying to embody the truth of Christ. Even as students at a prominent Christian college, we had failed to realize that our voices and actions matter to the Church and to the world--until that afternoon.

But our voices matter a great deal. We should not be afraid to use them--with love and grace. Every time we open our mouths, let us speak only the truth of Jesus Christ and his gospel--a message that promises hope and an end to injustice (Job 5:16).


Special thanks to Daniel, Jessica, Nicole, Laura, Elena, Jack, and Luke (and any others who I've forgotten).