Wandering "Okies" today

I recently finished The Grapes of Wrath, one of the most difficult-to-read novels I've picked up in a long time. For me, it was a difficult book, not due to the grammar, although the way Steinbeck quotes the "English" spoken in that time is very hard to comprehend, but because I had a very personal connection with the story. In many ways the difficult journey of the Joads' was also my grandparent’s story.

With fear that my High School English teacher will see this, I admit that this was the first time I had read this classic novel. And as I read about the Dust Bowl from Steinbeck's perspective I was shocked by the amount of total devastation in that region; as well as the ways the sharecropping farmers were kicked off their land to make way for "progress." The description of the automobile drive west and the family’s hopes of a new and blessed life in California was painful to read. The terrible treatment of the "Okies" by the Californians was also appalling.

But why was it painful for me? I've read hard luck stories before; this time it was different. This time this was ‘my’ story. My mother’s family moved out from Oklahoma in the '30's, not due to the Dust Bowl but due to my grandpa's ill health. He had tuberculosis and needed to move to a drier climate. Unfortunately they picked a terrible time to move, when the ‘Joads’ and others were also on the road and seeking work in California.

As a result of reading this novel, I now have an image of my sweet, tiny grandma picking fruit, cotton, and working long hours in a cannery or the walnut house. I discovered my grandparents lived with their seven children in a two-room "house," which was actually a converted chicken coop, for nine years! My mom was the only one of the kids born in California.

Their dreams in migrating were for a better life. As I think about my family, for many of us the dream has come true. All of us are better off than my grandparents.

The dream was fulfilled, just not for the first generation.

Stories of refugees are common in our world today. Numerous people are moving from their homes to try and find a better life someplace else. Like the Joads, though, people don’t just move unless they are forced to by dire circumstances. Last June I was in Turkey about 20 miles from Aleppo, a city on the front pages of the news at the moment. While there, the group of students I was leading was able to meet with a number of Syrian refugees living in that region. We were treated to immense hospitality by these people who had fled their homes due to fighting; none of them wanted to leave, but were forced to due to outside circumstances. As I read how the Joads' maintained their humanity, even in the face of extreme dehumanization from the Californians, I was reminded of the beautiful Syrians we met in June.

As I write this, the city of Aleppo has been retaken by government forces. At the same time, a 7 year old girl in Aleppo has been tweeting her story- Bana Alabed escapes East Aleppo

Although not connected with the rebels, her home has been destroyed by government forces. Like the Joads', will her family make the move to a neighboring country to find a better life? (The link above shares how this family has been relocated to Turkey)

We’re currently in the season of Christmas, a time when Christians reflect on the birth narrative of Jesus. One of the interesting parts of Jesus story is the flight to Egypt shortly after the Magi leave. Jesus was a refugee. What if Egypt had closed their borders to immigrants and migrants? If Mary and Joseph had returned, would Jesus have been killed?

New Drawing "The Holy Family". Original and Prints are available!https://t.co/5x6SGmZ7DE pic.twitter.com/cInYVAjM0v

— David Hayward (@nakedpastor) December 15, 2016

Matthew 2:13-15a:

13 After the wise men were gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up! Flee to Egypt with the child and his mother,” the angel said. “Stay there until I tell you to return, because Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”

14 That night Joseph left for Egypt with the child and Mary, his mother, 15 and they stayed there until Herod’s death.

Knowing my families story makes me much more sympathetic to the plight of those who experience loss and hardship right now. Knowing Syrian people who have fled, hearing their stories and their desire to return home, and knowing Jesus and his family experienced the same trauma and hardships makes me long for a world where peace is seen. What can I do? How do I keep from becoming one of the oppressors? If we stop to think about it for just a few minutes, the story of migration is the story of almost all Americans. At some point our ancestors were in the same circumstances as the fictitious Joads and the very real Syrians like Bana.

I invite you to join me in one way to respond, by giving to the Mennonite relief agency MCC: https://mcc.org/learn/more/syria-iraq-crisis-response

Remembering Memory

In mid October I had the privilege of participating in a United Methodist national youth leadership conference in Malawi. I was there to teach on entrepreneurship as one component of the program.

While there, one of the young men I met was named Memory. He was a part of the hosting church and was helping out with the sound system. I was amazed by his “MacGyver” nature, he was always fixing things or making the technology work with minimal resources. He's in the photo with me above.

Over the duration of the event I was able to get to know Memory and his older brother Ezekiel and to hear a bit of their story. Both were active members of the host church and had experienced the sadness and loss of their father.

Memory has a dream, to go to University and complete a business degree. In a larger sense, I learned from numerous conversations, higher education is a dream for nearly every young person I met; Malawians see schooling as a path out of the extreme poverty they live under. In fact, I heard two primary requests while I was there, “please help me continue my education” and “can you help me get an internet phone?” The interesting thing was, these were not random youth I was meeting on the street, these were young people who have been called into leadership by their local churches. What was sad to learn is a student can attend University for about $50 per month and that’s still an amount that is out of reach.

A jarring observation for me was a lack of older adults in our interactions. Due to AIDS and  other illnesses, 67% of the country is under twenty-four years old. This reality brings a lot of promise, but also a lot of challenges. If education is out of reach for so many, the future is not promising.

As a ONE member I support the bi-partisan Education for All Act and I encourage you to support it too. This act will be one more link in the chain to help young people like Memory have access to schools. In the meantime, I’m trying to figure out a way to support students like Memory and the other young leaders in Malawi who are hoping and dreaming for a pathway to attend school. For more information and to join me in using our voices to seek change check the ONE.org site: Education for All

So I remember Memory today. And pray and act to see he is able to complete his business degree.

The gift of skilled artisans

I was reminded today of a piece of art I saw when I was in Bogota in 2008. This quilt is one of 3 and was made by local women who had been displaced by violence in Colombia. As one can see from the photo, this quilt depicts a village scene, which, apart from the two boys fighting in the top, is happy and peaceful. The other quilts in the series present a much darker reality. (That's Emily in the bottom right, one of the leaders of the MCC - sponsored tour)

The quilt came to mind when I read this story today.

30 Then Moses said to the Israelites, “See, the Lord has chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, 31 and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills— 32 to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, 33 to cut and set stones, to work in wood and to engage in all kinds of artistic crafts. 34 And he has given both him and Oholiab son of Ahisamak, of the tribe of Dan, the ability to teach others.35 He has filled them with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers—all of them skilled workers and designers.36 1 So Bezalel, Oholiab and every skilled person to whom the Lord has given skill and ability to know how to carry out all the work of constructing the sanctuary are to do the work just as the Lord has commanded.”

I've read this story many times and have often thought about how cool it would be to have these kinds of abilities. My great-grandfather was a master carpenter/contractor and built a number of landmarks in Long Beach, CA. My grandfather built furniture from scratch, sometimes using just a photograph as a guide. And my mom has skills making fridge magnets and other cool items, but unfortunately, none of that skill got passed on to me.

As a teacher, and someone who would love to learn artistic skills, the phrase that really jumped out at me is verse 34. Both Bezalel and Oholiab had the ability to teach others. Not only were they skilled artisans, but they both had the ability to teach; a combination that can't always be assumed.

As a teacher, I want to be a person who combines knowledge with skill. I also want to find ways to make things with deep meaning like the women in Colombia. They used this medium to share a powerful story of hurt and loss. Their craftsmanship helped me to enter into their story.

Now I need to find more people like Bezalel and Oholiab to teach me how to hammer a nail or paint a picture.

"Don't weigh my chicken"

“Don’t weigh my chicken”

Last week I was at the national conference of US Mennonite Brethren, my denomination and the founding faith community of Tabor College. While at the Conference, I attended a seminar led by the Executive Director of the Mennonite World Conference- Cesar Garcia. The session shared about the interconnectedness of Mennonites around the world.

As he spoke about the global contribution of each country, one of my fellow session participants told a story from his experience. While in Africa, one of his hosts used the phrase, “Don’t weigh my chicken” implying that a gift, no matter how small should be received with gratefulness and thanksgiving.

I’m currently reading through the Bible in a year using one of the many pre-set guides, and my reading this week was about Hezekiah’s restoration of the Temple. 2 Chronicles 31 tells the story of the people of Judah bringing their gifts to the newly restored temple.

In verse 3 Hezekiah, the king, brings contributions which are listed and are what one would expect from a king: varied and numerous (see also 30:24). Verse 5 continues the story with the “regular people” 5 When the people of Israel heard these requirements, they responded generously by bringing the first share of their grain, new wine, olive oil, honey, and all the produce of their fields. They brought a large quantity—a tithe of all they produced.  

It seems that people brought what they could, and it added up fast! The story goes on to state: ...and they piled them up in great heaps. 7 They began piling them up in late spring, and the heaps continued to grow until early autumn. 8 When Hezekiah and his officials came and saw these huge piles, they thanked the Lord and his people Israel!

I thought about this story and the story of the chicken and was reminded of a meal I shared with a community of Mennonite Brethren in the mountains of Colombia, miles from any city. I was with a group of North American’s who were hosted for lunch by a small village. As the plates of food were brought out we asked, “Where did all this food come from?” and were told, “We each brought something and put it all together.” And what they put together was an amazing feast.

“Don’t weigh my chicken.” What gift do you and I have that could be used to contribute to God’s Kingdom? May we be people who don’t worry about the size, rather we rejoice that when our gifts are combined with others, just like Hezekiah’s people, it creates a huge pile.