Thursday, January 22, 2009
Some Biblical Economics
An informal essay for my Intro to Microfinance class at Eastern University, composed 6/9/08.
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What does the Bible have to say about interest rates? Though this specific question is not one I've spent much time pondering, it falls within the broader inquiry, What are biblical economics? The answer – if there is indeed an answer – is fodder for a dissertation and hardly a three-page essay. Nevertheless, I will attempt to quickly sketch my views and wherever possible, apply them to what I know of work in the microfinance industry. My first instinct, as a student of the digital age, was to begin by doing a word search of the Bible for the word “interest”. Though this turned up some intriguing passages, I was also reminded of the dangers of “proof-texting” - using short Bible texts out of context to justify a particular opinion. Instead, I prefer to read the Bible as metanarrative – a unified story that conveys a set of themes that apply to life. Thus, the passages cited represent a semi-random sampling of references to Bible-wide themes like shabat (sabbath) and charis(grace) that in turn have implications for the use of interest rates in microfinance institutions.
Biblical scholar, Ched Myers, asserts that one of the first major economic lessons of the Bible comes when the Israelites, under the leadership of Moses, have escaped the Egyptian empire and are preparing to enter their own promised land. The story of the manna in Exodus 16 contains at least three major injunctions for the new covenental society, frameworks that are later applied throughout the Bible (e.g., by the apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 8:14-15). The first of these comes in verses 16-18, when the Lord gives Moses the command, “Each one is to gather as much as he needs.” “As much,” or “enough,” is a complicated concept, but there is a clear relativity to it. More surprisingly, the relativity of God's provision is based on need, not achievement, inheritance, or faith. Myers responds to this first injunction with the comment:
Passages of Mosaic law referring directly to the charging of interest include Exodus 22:25, Leviticus 25:36-37, and Deuteronomy 23:19-20. In summary, they all say, “charge no interest.” They do qualify this statement by suggesting that it only applies to “countrymen” or fellow Israelites, which makes sense in the Hebrew Bible context of God focusing blessings and rebukes on a chosen group of people. It is notable, however, that none of the passages says “excessive interest” or “usurious interest” - just “interest.” The children of God are induced to differentiate themselves from the moneylenders, who presumably use interest rates to exploit the poor. The instructions to not charge interest come amidst warnings to not mistreat foreigners, not take advantage of widows and orphans (the helpless), and not blaspheme God. The best contextual justification given for this command – aside from its alignment with the sabbath principles stated above – is the statement, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt to give you the land of Canaan and to be your God” (Leviticus 25:38). In other words, charging interest is like selling a birthday present for profit – it's the ultimate insult you can pay to the gift-giver.
References to interest rates also appear in the Hebrew Bible's poetic and prophetic books. Proverbs 28:8 reads, “He who increases his wealth by exorbitant interest amasses it for another, who will be kind to the poor.” Like many of the proverbs, this is a bit of a paradoxical riddle; the essence is that wealth belongs to the righteous, not the hoarder. It is not much different than the manna of Exodus, which gets to be infested with maggots if too much is gathered. In Ezekiel 18 and 22, these concepts are echoed once again. The prophet explains God's picture of a man who is righteous and just, saying:
An NIV note remarks that “excessive interest” is an extrapolation; it could also be translated “interest.” The righteous man does not oppress with interest, but simply takes and returns some piece of collateral with a loan. This has deep implications if taken at face value in the microfinance industry.
Jumping ahead to the New Testament, there are a couple of Jesus' parables that are often used to juxtapose the Hebrew laws cited above and legitimate interest and other investments. As a caveat, I acknowledge that my interpretation of these parables is rare, so it may be wrong, but I will present it nonetheless and welcome scrutiny. The first of these parables is that of the master who gives some of his servants each a quantity of money. In Matthew 25, the money is in talents, and in Luke 19, it is in minas; both amount to at least several months worth of wages. Several of the servants “put their money to work” (Matthew 25:17) and double their returns, but the one who doesn't is chastised by the master for being wicked and lazy. Usually, the parable is interpreted allegorically, with the master equaling God, who tells the finance-savvy, “Well done, my good and faithful servant[s]” (Matthew 25:21,23).
Ched Myers suggests, however, that this popular interpretation is backwards. Instead, this parable is about what not to do in the kingdom economy. What is his evidence? Item 1: “'Master,' he said, 'I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed” (Matthew 25:24). Does this scoundrel sound like God? Item 2: “You should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest” (Matthew 25:27). Does this fit with the Hebrew Bible's injunctions about interest and storing up treasures? Item 3: “Everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him” (Matthew 25:29). Does this sound like the God we know from Jewish history – a God of the underdog, who loves justice and mercy? Another important clue for interpreting this passage is its context. In Matthew, this story comes amidst the parable of the virgins and the metaphor of the sheep and the goats – stories about being prepared for the kingdom of God by taking care of the least among us. In Luke, the story is sandwiched between the account of Zaccheus, a tax collector who gave half his possessions away to the poor, and Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, another symbolic reference to the ushering in of God's reign on earth. All in all, Myers' interpretation just makes more sense in the metanarrative. He sums it up, saying, “This reading understands the servant who refused to play the greedy master's money-market games as the hero who pays a high price for speaking truth to power (Matthew 25:24-30)—just as Jesus himself did” (Myers2 38).
Luke 16's parable of the shrewd steward offers a similar dilemma. This story, too, is usually taken as an allegory with the master being God. This time, I suggest turning it inside-out without Myers' help. My evidence? Item 1: “There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions” (16:1). Again, does this manager (the steward) sound like a righteous, godly fellow? Item 2: “The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly” (16:8). Not only is he being commended for acting shrewdly (which might have its place in the kingdom), but the steward is again referred to as dishonest. This is hardly a case of someone redeeming themselves in God's eyes. Item 3 (which is not exactly subtle):
This passage that follows the parable implies with utter clarity that Jesus does not want the disciples to imitate the ways of the world when it comes to financial matters, including interest rates. Luke even offers the commentary that the Pharisees “loved money” so that his readers will be perfectly clear who the parable was meant for. In addition, the context of this story is amidst those of the prodigal son and the rich man and Lazarus, which offer messages about reckless, wasteful love and one's place in heaven being dependent on one's service to the poor. The frequency with which these parables are used to justify the hallmark tenets of our modern capitalist economy is frankly a bit disturbing.
In conclusion, the Bible doesn't spend whole books detailing how interest should be dealt with in microfinance institutions, but it leaves an abundance of clues, both big and small. On the small end, one-line injunctions in Hebrew law, the Proverbs, and the teaching of the prophets all say that interest of any kind is forbidden, at least within the Israelite community. On the big end, principles woven throughout scripture such as sabbath, grace, forgiveness, justice, and faith hint that the needs of the poor should be a priority, earthly treasures stand in the way of heaven, and the best form of stewardship is faithfulness and honesty. What, then, is the bottom line about interest rates? Should microfinance institutions take donor subsidies so that they can charge 15% or less, or should they ask for 30% so that they can survive without outside help? Or should we forget microfinance entirely and just focus on charity, because interest in any form is sinful? From the evidence presented above, it is hard to see anything good about interest at all. It is thanks to an interest-bearing loan, though, that I am even able to attend Eastern University and learn about this important topic! So I want to believe that God speaks in parables for a reason, and that scripture is best applied according to its big-picture themes. Perhaps rather than proposing a development plan and then asking whether the Bible fits into it, we should be starting with biblical concepts like sabbath, grace, forgiveness, justice, and faith and letting the ultimate Sculptor mold us accordingly.
Holy Bible. New International Version. International Bible Society, 1984.
Myers1, Ched. “God Speed the Year of Jubilee!” Sojourners Magazine. Vol. 27, No. 3. May-June 1998, pp. 24-28.
Myers2, Ched. “Jesus' New Economy of Grace.” Sojourners Magazine. Vol. 27, No. 4, July-Aug 1998, pp. 36-39.
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What does the Bible have to say about interest rates? Though this specific question is not one I've spent much time pondering, it falls within the broader inquiry, What are biblical economics? The answer – if there is indeed an answer – is fodder for a dissertation and hardly a three-page essay. Nevertheless, I will attempt to quickly sketch my views and wherever possible, apply them to what I know of work in the microfinance industry. My first instinct, as a student of the digital age, was to begin by doing a word search of the Bible for the word “interest”. Though this turned up some intriguing passages, I was also reminded of the dangers of “proof-texting” - using short Bible texts out of context to justify a particular opinion. Instead, I prefer to read the Bible as metanarrative – a unified story that conveys a set of themes that apply to life. Thus, the passages cited represent a semi-random sampling of references to Bible-wide themes like shabat (sabbath) and charis(grace) that in turn have implications for the use of interest rates in microfinance institutions.
Biblical scholar, Ched Myers, asserts that one of the first major economic lessons of the Bible comes when the Israelites, under the leadership of Moses, have escaped the Egyptian empire and are preparing to enter their own promised land. The story of the manna in Exodus 16 contains at least three major injunctions for the new covenental society, frameworks that are later applied throughout the Bible (e.g., by the apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 8:14-15). The first of these comes in verses 16-18, when the Lord gives Moses the command, “Each one is to gather as much as he needs.” “As much,” or “enough,” is a complicated concept, but there is a clear relativity to it. More surprisingly, the relativity of God's provision is based on need, not achievement, inheritance, or faith. Myers responds to this first injunction with the comment:
- The Bible recognizes that inequalities will inevitably arise in "fallen" society—a realism it shares with the worldview of modern capitalism. Unlike the social Darwinism of the latter, however, the biblical vision refuses to stipulate that injustice is therefore a permanent condition. Instead, God's people are instructed to dismantle, on a regular basis, the fundamental patterns and structures of stratified wealth and power, so that there is "enough for everyone." (Myers1 24)
Passages of Mosaic law referring directly to the charging of interest include Exodus 22:25, Leviticus 25:36-37, and Deuteronomy 23:19-20. In summary, they all say, “charge no interest.” They do qualify this statement by suggesting that it only applies to “countrymen” or fellow Israelites, which makes sense in the Hebrew Bible context of God focusing blessings and rebukes on a chosen group of people. It is notable, however, that none of the passages says “excessive interest” or “usurious interest” - just “interest.” The children of God are induced to differentiate themselves from the moneylenders, who presumably use interest rates to exploit the poor. The instructions to not charge interest come amidst warnings to not mistreat foreigners, not take advantage of widows and orphans (the helpless), and not blaspheme God. The best contextual justification given for this command – aside from its alignment with the sabbath principles stated above – is the statement, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt to give you the land of Canaan and to be your God” (Leviticus 25:38). In other words, charging interest is like selling a birthday present for profit – it's the ultimate insult you can pay to the gift-giver.
References to interest rates also appear in the Hebrew Bible's poetic and prophetic books. Proverbs 28:8 reads, “He who increases his wealth by exorbitant interest amasses it for another, who will be kind to the poor.” Like many of the proverbs, this is a bit of a paradoxical riddle; the essence is that wealth belongs to the righteous, not the hoarder. It is not much different than the manna of Exodus, which gets to be infested with maggots if too much is gathered. In Ezekiel 18 and 22, these concepts are echoed once again. The prophet explains God's picture of a man who is righteous and just, saying:
- He does not oppress anyone, but returns what he took in pledge for a loan. He does not commit robbery but gives his food to the hungry and provides clothing for the naked. He does not lend at usury or take excessive interest. He withholds his hand from doing wrong and judges fairly between man and man (Ezekiel 18:7-8)
An NIV note remarks that “excessive interest” is an extrapolation; it could also be translated “interest.” The righteous man does not oppress with interest, but simply takes and returns some piece of collateral with a loan. This has deep implications if taken at face value in the microfinance industry.
Jumping ahead to the New Testament, there are a couple of Jesus' parables that are often used to juxtapose the Hebrew laws cited above and legitimate interest and other investments. As a caveat, I acknowledge that my interpretation of these parables is rare, so it may be wrong, but I will present it nonetheless and welcome scrutiny. The first of these parables is that of the master who gives some of his servants each a quantity of money. In Matthew 25, the money is in talents, and in Luke 19, it is in minas; both amount to at least several months worth of wages. Several of the servants “put their money to work” (Matthew 25:17) and double their returns, but the one who doesn't is chastised by the master for being wicked and lazy. Usually, the parable is interpreted allegorically, with the master equaling God, who tells the finance-savvy, “Well done, my good and faithful servant[s]” (Matthew 25:21,23).
Ched Myers suggests, however, that this popular interpretation is backwards. Instead, this parable is about what not to do in the kingdom economy. What is his evidence? Item 1: “'Master,' he said, 'I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed” (Matthew 25:24). Does this scoundrel sound like God? Item 2: “You should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest” (Matthew 25:27). Does this fit with the Hebrew Bible's injunctions about interest and storing up treasures? Item 3: “Everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him” (Matthew 25:29). Does this sound like the God we know from Jewish history – a God of the underdog, who loves justice and mercy? Another important clue for interpreting this passage is its context. In Matthew, this story comes amidst the parable of the virgins and the metaphor of the sheep and the goats – stories about being prepared for the kingdom of God by taking care of the least among us. In Luke, the story is sandwiched between the account of Zaccheus, a tax collector who gave half his possessions away to the poor, and Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, another symbolic reference to the ushering in of God's reign on earth. All in all, Myers' interpretation just makes more sense in the metanarrative. He sums it up, saying, “This reading understands the servant who refused to play the greedy master's money-market games as the hero who pays a high price for speaking truth to power (Matthew 25:24-30)—just as Jesus himself did” (Myers2 38).
Luke 16's parable of the shrewd steward offers a similar dilemma. This story, too, is usually taken as an allegory with the master being God. This time, I suggest turning it inside-out without Myers' help. My evidence? Item 1: “There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions” (16:1). Again, does this manager (the steward) sound like a righteous, godly fellow? Item 2: “The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly” (16:8). Not only is he being commended for acting shrewdly (which might have its place in the kingdom), but the steward is again referred to as dishonest. This is hardly a case of someone redeeming themselves in God's eyes. Item 3 (which is not exactly subtle):
- "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches? And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else's property, who will give you property of your own? No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.” The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus. He said to them, “You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's sight." (Luke 16:10-15)
This passage that follows the parable implies with utter clarity that Jesus does not want the disciples to imitate the ways of the world when it comes to financial matters, including interest rates. Luke even offers the commentary that the Pharisees “loved money” so that his readers will be perfectly clear who the parable was meant for. In addition, the context of this story is amidst those of the prodigal son and the rich man and Lazarus, which offer messages about reckless, wasteful love and one's place in heaven being dependent on one's service to the poor. The frequency with which these parables are used to justify the hallmark tenets of our modern capitalist economy is frankly a bit disturbing.
In conclusion, the Bible doesn't spend whole books detailing how interest should be dealt with in microfinance institutions, but it leaves an abundance of clues, both big and small. On the small end, one-line injunctions in Hebrew law, the Proverbs, and the teaching of the prophets all say that interest of any kind is forbidden, at least within the Israelite community. On the big end, principles woven throughout scripture such as sabbath, grace, forgiveness, justice, and faith hint that the needs of the poor should be a priority, earthly treasures stand in the way of heaven, and the best form of stewardship is faithfulness and honesty. What, then, is the bottom line about interest rates? Should microfinance institutions take donor subsidies so that they can charge 15% or less, or should they ask for 30% so that they can survive without outside help? Or should we forget microfinance entirely and just focus on charity, because interest in any form is sinful? From the evidence presented above, it is hard to see anything good about interest at all. It is thanks to an interest-bearing loan, though, that I am even able to attend Eastern University and learn about this important topic! So I want to believe that God speaks in parables for a reason, and that scripture is best applied according to its big-picture themes. Perhaps rather than proposing a development plan and then asking whether the Bible fits into it, we should be starting with biblical concepts like sabbath, grace, forgiveness, justice, and faith and letting the ultimate Sculptor mold us accordingly.
Works Cited
Holy Bible. New International Version. International Bible Society, 1984.
Myers1, Ched. “God Speed the Year of Jubilee!” Sojourners Magazine. Vol. 27, No. 3. May-June 1998, pp. 24-28.
Myers2, Ched. “Jesus' New Economy of Grace.” Sojourners Magazine. Vol. 27, No. 4, July-Aug 1998, pp. 36-39.
Spiritual Smog and The City on a Hill
An essay for my Urban Economics class at Eastern University, composed 4/29/08.
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I have heard several of the places I have lived in or visited over the years referred to as “godforsaken” or “a place of darkness.” Whether it was my undergraduate college – a wealthy but non-Christian campus, or one of the three cities in which I've invested much time and energy – Juarez, Mexico, Camden, New Jersey, or (West) Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, I simply haven't seen the evidence that would give weight to these pronouncements. Undoubtedly, the comments refer to visible poverty, violence, broken governments, non-mainstream cultures, prevalent immorality, or anti-Christian sentiments. As Robert Linthicum notes, however, in his book, City of God, City of Satan, many people are suffering from a theology gap when it comes to these places –and specifically, the city (20). The greatest indicators of this gap are a failure to distinguish between corporate and individual sin and a failure to comprehend God's heart for “the least, the last, and the lost.” As Christians, we cannot afford to write off huge segments of the world population as dwelling in “godforsaken” or “dark” places. Instead, we must learn to bridge the theological gap to the city and see through the spiritual smog that has settled there. Jesus proclaimed that “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden” (Matthew 5:14), so surely he did not intend for our urban areas to be abandoned to the darkness.
The surface signs of a city's disinvestment were examined previously from a purely economic standpoint. In that study, it was determined that most people fall into one of two camps with regard to explaining poverty: they either blame flawed character – individuals not putting forth the effort to better themselves, or flawed systems – social institutions and practices that limit peoples' opportunities to succeed. More specifically, those presently in power cite the flawed character argument, while those at the bottom of the economic ladder cite flawed systems. Everyone is biased by their own experience and social positioning. The research literature confirms that more than individual choices have been at stake in creating the conditions of poverty in many of America's cities. Ethnic, racial, and gender-based discrimination – both historical and present – affects the labor force participation rate, access to education, access to affordable housing, the quality and availability of healthcare and other social services, the justness of the justice system, and average levels of income, wealth, and access to capital. Together, these systemic factors compound into a self-perpetuating cycle of poverty within which violence, drugs, prostitution, and out-of-wedlock births start to look like rational choices. Taking these conclusions a step further, Linthicum asks how this state of affairs might be explained spiritually.
The Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, paints cities into two ideal types: Jerusalem – the city of God, and Babylon – the city of Satan. In reality, every earthly city is a combination of the two: a city of light trying to shine through the ever-forming layers of smog. This “smog” is essentially sin, and from a flawed character perspective, a city grows to look more like Babylon when the individual sins of its inhabitants are rampant and detestable. According to Linthicum, though, “the city's evil is far greater than the sum of the sin of its individuals” (46). Sin, in his experience and mine, is corporate as well as individual. Society as a whole has turned against God and ceased to live according to God's commandments and precepts. Corporate sin pervades the economic, political and religious systems of the city. Linthicum highlights King Solomon's reign as an example of economic sin: Solomon fails to be a good steward of his land and resources, and instead greed and exploitation are the hallmarks of his kingdom (51-53). King Ahab's rule is a prime example of a politics infused with sin: he insists on maintaining power to the degree that it undermines even Yahweh (57). The boy king Josiah facilitates the opposite extreme, which is equally problematic: he creates a legalistic theocracy in which the religious and political systems are one and the same, and belief ceases to be a freewill act (59). Though it can be argued that these kings were acting as individuals, their positions of power meant that their choices were reflected in most, if not all, of the social institutions at the time. These corrupt institutions, in turn, affected the ability of the city's individuals to make choices that would draw them back into the favor of God. And even beyond corporate sins that are economic, political, and religious, the city's greatest sin is one of idolatry. Jerusalem, the chosen city of the Lord, described in Ezekiel 16 as His one great love, collectively turns its worship elsewhere. Infuriated, God tells his people their sins are worse than those of Sodom and Samaria, and He pronounces His punishment:
The smog that envelopes a city can thus be attributed in large part to the sin that has infected its systems and structures.
A phrase that appears throughout the Bible in reference to cities is “principalities and powers.” According to Linthicum, “'Principalities and powers' may be celestial (1 Peter 3:22), [...] solely terrestrial and earthly (Ps. 8), or both celestial and terrestrial at the same time (Ps. 103:13-22, Col. 1:15-20)” (68). In other words, they may on the one hand refer to the structures mentioned above as vehicles of corporate human sin, or on the other hand they may represent the influence of spiritual forces beyond human control. Linthicum remarks that every city has a “brooding angel.” This angel is the spirit that infuses the city's people and institutions and – for better or for worse – makes it unique (75). The city's spirit and its individuals mutually impact one another, which is why it is essential that both remain centered on Christ. A failure to acknowledge this interplay can be damaging, Linthicum argues:
The principalities and powers must be confronted, then, on both an earthly and a celestial level. Satan and the corporate sin of a city feed off one another to create atmospheric conditions that are ideal for smog.
Obviously, sin, smog, and the desires of Satan are outside the will of God. Let us take a minute to look at what God's vision for the city entails. There is Psalm 48, wherein the city's praises are sung: “It is beautiful in its loftiness, the joy of the whole earth. Like the utmost heights of Zaphon is Mount Zion, the city of the Great King” (Ps. 48:2). The Lord describes his rescue of and preference for Jerusalem again in Ezekiel 16:6-8:
And always side by side with the prophets' condemnations of the city's idolatries are promises of renewal and restoration: “For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch [...] No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah [my delight is in her]” (Isaiah 62:1,4). Perhaps nothing brings more hope than the description of the New Jerusalem – the city made new – in Revelation, which begins,
Of course, these passages just scratch the surface of scripture that is available to describe God's heart for the city. Another name that is given for the New Jerusalem is the kingdom of God. Basic characteristics of this kingdom include liberation from oppression, economic equality and provision for the poor, and peace and wholeness (the concept of shalom). Like the principalities and powers with which God's children must contend, the kingdom of God is also both terrestrial and celestial. While its celestial component is what many people refer to as heaven, its terrestrial component is described by Luke: “The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:20-21). The city made new is here and now!
This begs the question, if the kingdom of God is within us, how can we let it out to make life “on earth as it is in heaven”? What needs to be done so that the city on a hill can be seen through the smog? Linthicum finds that for the most part, the church is usually so focused on ministry to individuals and congregations that it ignores the systems of the city and ends up leaving them vulnerable to Satan's influence (77). Instead, “the task of the church, Paul declares, is to make known the 'manifold witness of God' both to the principalities and powers and to the rulers and authorities of the systems they inhabit” (72). How can this be done? Linthicum suggests the biblical template of Jesus' healing of blind man in John chapter 9. First, we must expose peoples' blindness by revealing the unjust systems of the city for what they really are. Then, we must help them see an alternative scenario in the transformed city of God. Put differently, “The vocation of the church in the city is to be the dreamer and the advocate for a city given over to God” (144).
In terms of daily actions, this can mean a lot of things, all of which are rooted in scriptural passages and principles. First and foremost is personal spiritual formation, which includes praying for the city (see Ps. 122:6-9). We must also be present in the city, which may mean moving for some (see Jer. 29:5-6). We must be better stewards of the resources of the city (see Ex. 16, Lev. 25). We must build networks and organize people (see Nehemiah 2-3). We must deal creatively with conflict (see Matt. 5:38-42). When our work is done, we must celebrate with our city (see Nehemiah 8). All in all, we must keep in mind two warnings: practice proclamation only alongside compassion, and be sure that our actions are contextualized. Not every community development project is going to perfectly parallel the story of Nehemiah. Finally, we must strive to embody the biblical vision of true community. Linthicum describes this vision well: “For these Christians, community was more than the sum of their relationships together. It was the base upon which they build their church life, their worship, and their willingness to serve each other and the hurting around their neighborhoods and cities” (256).
So, it looks like all we have to do is start living according to the Bible and the smog of the city will start to clear up. No problem, right? Ha. It is impossible for humans to make a godly city, because sin brings corruption into every system we create, most of which were initially intended for good. According to Linthicum, “[The church] will always fall back into a divided, fighting, barrier-building, prideful conglomerate of individuals. That is why the church needs the Holy Spirit” (273). Ultimately, it is God who redeems, God who reconciles, God who rebuilds. “From Him, through Him, and to Him are all things” (Romans 11:36). There is almost a note of mockery when the Lord declares through Ezekiel, “When I make atonement for you for all you have done, you will remember and be ashamed and never again open your mouth because of your humiliation” (Ezekiel 16:63). Our failures are complete – both individually and corporately. Linthicum sums it up well, saying, “We see that in Romans [8:18-23], Paul is teaching that there is no dichotomy between the individual and his corporate environment (whether social or physical). It is all of one cloth. It is all corrupted by sin. And God has provided for the redemption of it all. That, by inference, would include the city” (118). The best we can do, then, is to step aside and make room for the King's triumphal entry into the city. “Jesus came to the city to die for the city, its systems, and its people” (127). We can do no better than to pick up our own crosses and follow him in.
Let us return quickly to the cities I have heard deemed “godforsaken” and “places of darkness.” My undergraduate college has an active, unified Christian Fellowship that transformed my life and those of many others. The “ecumenical” chapel is engraved with the words, “The strength of the hills is his also.” Juarez, Mexico is filled with smiling children that I have seen grow into mature teens and inspirational leaders. Camden, NJ, denoted by Walt Whitman as the “city invincible,” is home to the most transformational community church that I have ever been a part of. West Philadelphia embodies the words of the Lord in Revelation to the biblical church in Philadelphia: “See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name [...] I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown” (Rev. 3:8,11). These are places of hope. They are surrounded in spiritual smog, but deep down, they are all “cities invincible,” cities of light. God's message for the renewal of the city is not tangential; it is the heart of the gospel, woven into every facet of the metanarrative. The task is far from easy, but we are all called to “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile” (Jer. 29:7).
Works Cited
Holy Bible. New International Version. International Bible Society, 1984.
Linthicum, Robert. City of God, City of Satan: A Biblical Theology of the Urban Church. Grand
Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1991.
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I have heard several of the places I have lived in or visited over the years referred to as “godforsaken” or “a place of darkness.” Whether it was my undergraduate college – a wealthy but non-Christian campus, or one of the three cities in which I've invested much time and energy – Juarez, Mexico, Camden, New Jersey, or (West) Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, I simply haven't seen the evidence that would give weight to these pronouncements. Undoubtedly, the comments refer to visible poverty, violence, broken governments, non-mainstream cultures, prevalent immorality, or anti-Christian sentiments. As Robert Linthicum notes, however, in his book, City of God, City of Satan, many people are suffering from a theology gap when it comes to these places –and specifically, the city (20). The greatest indicators of this gap are a failure to distinguish between corporate and individual sin and a failure to comprehend God's heart for “the least, the last, and the lost.” As Christians, we cannot afford to write off huge segments of the world population as dwelling in “godforsaken” or “dark” places. Instead, we must learn to bridge the theological gap to the city and see through the spiritual smog that has settled there. Jesus proclaimed that “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden” (Matthew 5:14), so surely he did not intend for our urban areas to be abandoned to the darkness.
The surface signs of a city's disinvestment were examined previously from a purely economic standpoint. In that study, it was determined that most people fall into one of two camps with regard to explaining poverty: they either blame flawed character – individuals not putting forth the effort to better themselves, or flawed systems – social institutions and practices that limit peoples' opportunities to succeed. More specifically, those presently in power cite the flawed character argument, while those at the bottom of the economic ladder cite flawed systems. Everyone is biased by their own experience and social positioning. The research literature confirms that more than individual choices have been at stake in creating the conditions of poverty in many of America's cities. Ethnic, racial, and gender-based discrimination – both historical and present – affects the labor force participation rate, access to education, access to affordable housing, the quality and availability of healthcare and other social services, the justness of the justice system, and average levels of income, wealth, and access to capital. Together, these systemic factors compound into a self-perpetuating cycle of poverty within which violence, drugs, prostitution, and out-of-wedlock births start to look like rational choices. Taking these conclusions a step further, Linthicum asks how this state of affairs might be explained spiritually.
The Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, paints cities into two ideal types: Jerusalem – the city of God, and Babylon – the city of Satan. In reality, every earthly city is a combination of the two: a city of light trying to shine through the ever-forming layers of smog. This “smog” is essentially sin, and from a flawed character perspective, a city grows to look more like Babylon when the individual sins of its inhabitants are rampant and detestable. According to Linthicum, though, “the city's evil is far greater than the sum of the sin of its individuals” (46). Sin, in his experience and mine, is corporate as well as individual. Society as a whole has turned against God and ceased to live according to God's commandments and precepts. Corporate sin pervades the economic, political and religious systems of the city. Linthicum highlights King Solomon's reign as an example of economic sin: Solomon fails to be a good steward of his land and resources, and instead greed and exploitation are the hallmarks of his kingdom (51-53). King Ahab's rule is a prime example of a politics infused with sin: he insists on maintaining power to the degree that it undermines even Yahweh (57). The boy king Josiah facilitates the opposite extreme, which is equally problematic: he creates a legalistic theocracy in which the religious and political systems are one and the same, and belief ceases to be a freewill act (59). Though it can be argued that these kings were acting as individuals, their positions of power meant that their choices were reflected in most, if not all, of the social institutions at the time. These corrupt institutions, in turn, affected the ability of the city's individuals to make choices that would draw them back into the favor of God. And even beyond corporate sins that are economic, political, and religious, the city's greatest sin is one of idolatry. Jerusalem, the chosen city of the Lord, described in Ezekiel 16 as His one great love, collectively turns its worship elsewhere. Infuriated, God tells his people their sins are worse than those of Sodom and Samaria, and He pronounces His punishment:
- Then I will hand you over to your lovers, and they will tear down your mounds and destroy your lofty shrines. They will strip you of your clothes and take your fine jewelry and leave you naked and bare. They will bring a mob against you, who will stone you and hack you to pieces with their swords. They will burn down your houses and inflict punishment on you in the sight of many women. I will put a stop to your prostitution, and you will no longer pay your lovers. (Ezekiel 16:39-41)
The smog that envelopes a city can thus be attributed in large part to the sin that has infected its systems and structures.
A phrase that appears throughout the Bible in reference to cities is “principalities and powers.” According to Linthicum, “'Principalities and powers' may be celestial (1 Peter 3:22), [...] solely terrestrial and earthly (Ps. 8), or both celestial and terrestrial at the same time (Ps. 103:13-22, Col. 1:15-20)” (68). In other words, they may on the one hand refer to the structures mentioned above as vehicles of corporate human sin, or on the other hand they may represent the influence of spiritual forces beyond human control. Linthicum remarks that every city has a “brooding angel.” This angel is the spirit that infuses the city's people and institutions and – for better or for worse – makes it unique (75). The city's spirit and its individuals mutually impact one another, which is why it is essential that both remain centered on Christ. A failure to acknowledge this interplay can be damaging, Linthicum argues:
- This naivete is due to the difficulty Christians have in understanding the spiritual dynamism of a system. We essentially see systems as static, humanly conceived, and humanly driven machines. In reality they have a life of their own, a living spiritual dimension that, like a human, can resist, seduce, marginalize, or isolate those whom the system perceives as a threat to them and their power. (78)
The principalities and powers must be confronted, then, on both an earthly and a celestial level. Satan and the corporate sin of a city feed off one another to create atmospheric conditions that are ideal for smog.
Obviously, sin, smog, and the desires of Satan are outside the will of God. Let us take a minute to look at what God's vision for the city entails. There is Psalm 48, wherein the city's praises are sung: “It is beautiful in its loftiness, the joy of the whole earth. Like the utmost heights of Zaphon is Mount Zion, the city of the Great King” (Ps. 48:2). The Lord describes his rescue of and preference for Jerusalem again in Ezekiel 16:6-8:
- Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, "Live!" I made you grow like a plant of the field. You grew up and developed and became the most beautiful of jewels. Your breasts were formed and your hair grew, you who were naked and bare. Later I passed by, and when I looked at you and saw that you were old enough for love, I spread the corner of my garment over you and covered your nakedness. I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign LORD, and you became mine.
And always side by side with the prophets' condemnations of the city's idolatries are promises of renewal and restoration: “For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch [...] No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah [my delight is in her]” (Isaiah 62:1,4). Perhaps nothing brings more hope than the description of the New Jerusalem – the city made new – in Revelation, which begins,
- I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:1-4)
Of course, these passages just scratch the surface of scripture that is available to describe God's heart for the city. Another name that is given for the New Jerusalem is the kingdom of God. Basic characteristics of this kingdom include liberation from oppression, economic equality and provision for the poor, and peace and wholeness (the concept of shalom). Like the principalities and powers with which God's children must contend, the kingdom of God is also both terrestrial and celestial. While its celestial component is what many people refer to as heaven, its terrestrial component is described by Luke: “The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:20-21). The city made new is here and now!
This begs the question, if the kingdom of God is within us, how can we let it out to make life “on earth as it is in heaven”? What needs to be done so that the city on a hill can be seen through the smog? Linthicum finds that for the most part, the church is usually so focused on ministry to individuals and congregations that it ignores the systems of the city and ends up leaving them vulnerable to Satan's influence (77). Instead, “the task of the church, Paul declares, is to make known the 'manifold witness of God' both to the principalities and powers and to the rulers and authorities of the systems they inhabit” (72). How can this be done? Linthicum suggests the biblical template of Jesus' healing of blind man in John chapter 9. First, we must expose peoples' blindness by revealing the unjust systems of the city for what they really are. Then, we must help them see an alternative scenario in the transformed city of God. Put differently, “The vocation of the church in the city is to be the dreamer and the advocate for a city given over to God” (144).
In terms of daily actions, this can mean a lot of things, all of which are rooted in scriptural passages and principles. First and foremost is personal spiritual formation, which includes praying for the city (see Ps. 122:6-9). We must also be present in the city, which may mean moving for some (see Jer. 29:5-6). We must be better stewards of the resources of the city (see Ex. 16, Lev. 25). We must build networks and organize people (see Nehemiah 2-3). We must deal creatively with conflict (see Matt. 5:38-42). When our work is done, we must celebrate with our city (see Nehemiah 8). All in all, we must keep in mind two warnings: practice proclamation only alongside compassion, and be sure that our actions are contextualized. Not every community development project is going to perfectly parallel the story of Nehemiah. Finally, we must strive to embody the biblical vision of true community. Linthicum describes this vision well: “For these Christians, community was more than the sum of their relationships together. It was the base upon which they build their church life, their worship, and their willingness to serve each other and the hurting around their neighborhoods and cities” (256).
So, it looks like all we have to do is start living according to the Bible and the smog of the city will start to clear up. No problem, right? Ha. It is impossible for humans to make a godly city, because sin brings corruption into every system we create, most of which were initially intended for good. According to Linthicum, “[The church] will always fall back into a divided, fighting, barrier-building, prideful conglomerate of individuals. That is why the church needs the Holy Spirit” (273). Ultimately, it is God who redeems, God who reconciles, God who rebuilds. “From Him, through Him, and to Him are all things” (Romans 11:36). There is almost a note of mockery when the Lord declares through Ezekiel, “When I make atonement for you for all you have done, you will remember and be ashamed and never again open your mouth because of your humiliation” (Ezekiel 16:63). Our failures are complete – both individually and corporately. Linthicum sums it up well, saying, “We see that in Romans [8:18-23], Paul is teaching that there is no dichotomy between the individual and his corporate environment (whether social or physical). It is all of one cloth. It is all corrupted by sin. And God has provided for the redemption of it all. That, by inference, would include the city” (118). The best we can do, then, is to step aside and make room for the King's triumphal entry into the city. “Jesus came to the city to die for the city, its systems, and its people” (127). We can do no better than to pick up our own crosses and follow him in.
Let us return quickly to the cities I have heard deemed “godforsaken” and “places of darkness.” My undergraduate college has an active, unified Christian Fellowship that transformed my life and those of many others. The “ecumenical” chapel is engraved with the words, “The strength of the hills is his also.” Juarez, Mexico is filled with smiling children that I have seen grow into mature teens and inspirational leaders. Camden, NJ, denoted by Walt Whitman as the “city invincible,” is home to the most transformational community church that I have ever been a part of. West Philadelphia embodies the words of the Lord in Revelation to the biblical church in Philadelphia: “See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name [...] I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown” (Rev. 3:8,11). These are places of hope. They are surrounded in spiritual smog, but deep down, they are all “cities invincible,” cities of light. God's message for the renewal of the city is not tangential; it is the heart of the gospel, woven into every facet of the metanarrative. The task is far from easy, but we are all called to “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile” (Jer. 29:7).
Works Cited
Holy Bible. New International Version. International Bible Society, 1984.
Linthicum, Robert. City of God, City of Satan: A Biblical Theology of the Urban Church. Grand
Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1991.
American Apartheid
An essay for my Urban Politics class at Eastern University, composed 12/13/07.
****************
Though “apartheid” is an Afrikaans term usually associated with South Africa and Nelson Mandela, it has taken on new meaning in recent years. Social scientists are beginning to refer to the United States' entrenched system of institutional racism as the “American Apartheid.” This institutional racism is defined as the actions prescribed by an organization or social network of the dominant racial group that by intention have a negative impact on members of subordinate racial groups (Bullard et al.). Though systematic in nature, American Apartheid is enacted by individuals. And while the term may be relatively new, the individual decisions and actions that shaped the current condition are part of a centuries-old metanarrative of oppression. This oppression began, and is often driven, by race-based prejudice, but it is intimately tied to class as well. A dictionary definition of apartheid deems it “any system or practice that separates people according to race, caste, etc.” (Dictionary.com). Examined in the context of its more recent history, American Apartheid, not unlike South African Apartheid, has robbed millions of people of their human dignity and social voice based solely on their race or economic class.
American Apartheid spans the entire spectrum of social systems; it will be examined here in terms of its residential, economic, educational, and socio-political impacts. Almost universally, the racism discussed here is legal – not punishable by the current laws. The Residential Apartheid that is evident in most large U.S. cities today took shape in the era just before and just after World War II. Two vast movements occurred in close sequence – the Great Migration of African-Americans into northern cities from the South, and the deindustrialization of America's urban centers. These phenomena were prompted, at least in part, by two major federal acts – the National Housing Act of 1934 and the Interstate Highway Act of 1956. The National Housing Act created the Federal Housing Administration (FHA), who would enable home mortgages to be issued with low down payments and long-term fixed interest rates. The FHA had its desired effect – home ownership increased by 22% - but African-Americans were completely excluded from these benefits through a process called “redlining.” As the minorities were denied access to new homes and nice neighborhoods, segregated ghettos began to form. This process was catalyzed by the Interstate Highway Act, in which the federal government subsidized 90% of the cost of building new highways, which enabled those with cars to move further and further from the city center and left those without to become increasingly “quarantined” (Fishman).
As a result, Philadelphia, Chester, Camden, and Norristown house 77% of this region's minority population, while the vast majority of the suburbs are over 90% White (Metropolitan Philadelphia Policy Center). Whereas residential segregation decreases for most racial and ethnic groups with additional education, income, and occupational status, American Apartheid has ensured that this does not hold true for African-Americans (Bullard et al.). Because for generations they were not eligible for mortgages, most African-American households have been forced to rent (Philadelphia Affordable Housing Coalition). The federal government defines housing as “affordable” that costs no more than 30% of a household's income, which means that more than one in five Philadelphians cannot afford their current housing. This is not to mention the city's homeless, for whom the government pays $67 million per year in shelter costs and other services (PAHC). It is clear that the inner city, and especially the African-American population, are in the midst of a residential crisis.
The Civil Rights Movement did prompt some legislative efforts to curb this crisis, including the Fair Housing Act of 1968 and the Community Reinvestment Act of 1977. These initiatives, however, and even their more recent revisions, have been ineffective and poorly enforced (Bullard et al.). Housing discrimination still occurs in a plethora of forms: absentee landlords, subjective lending, stereotyping about neighborhoods, discrimination in terms and conditions, refusals to deal, discriminatory advertising, falsely represented availability, and denials of real estate services. How has nothing been done to stop this blatant institutional racism? Because those with the power to change it are blind to its existence: 75% of U.S. Whites surveyed do not believe that housing discrimination even exists (Bullard et al.).
Deeply connected to the U.S.'s Residential Apartheid is its Economic Apartheid. Racial minorities and those with low incomes have been systematically prevented from participating in the “American Dream” of economic success or even stability. Industrial and other low-wage jobs have moved out of the city and even out of the country, and in their place is a rising high-skilled “knowledge sector.” Access to the knowledge sector comes only through higher education, which as the next section will demonstrate, has also been denied to non-Whites and the lower class. As a result, these apartheid victims have no stepping stone out of poverty. According to the Philadelphia Workforce Investment Board (PWIB), 45% of Philadelphia's working age adults are neither working nor looking for work, placing the city in 96th place for labor force participation among the U.S.'s 100 largest cities. Even among those who do work, one out of three households in Philadelphia makes less than $20,000 per year (PAHC). Wages for low-skilled labor have also become less-than-livable, dropping 30% from 1970 to 1989 (Wilson). As if that weren't enough, Economic Apartheid has also left low-income residents paying higher prices for all their basic necessities:
Another facet of the U.S. story's oppressive regime is its Educational Apartheid. Technically speaking, the segregation of public schools has been banned since the ruling in Brown v. The Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas in 1954. In actuality, however, academic segregation is still a ubiquitous reality in U.S. cities. High school dropout rates hover around 50%, and only 20% of Philadelphians have college degrees. The quality of education is also dismal; over 60% of adults in Philadelphia are considered low-literate (PWIB). The reasons for this are numerous, but a primary cause is inadequate resources and funding. Only four states in the country have educational funding more unequal than in Pennsylvania (MPPC). In most areas, school funding is directly linked to property taxes, so it is no wonder that rich neighborhoods have better schools. State support is also disproportionately poured into the predominantly White, middle-class suburbs rather than the struggling inner city schools. When school districts demonstrate a consistent failure to educate their students, there has been a growing trend for the state government to usurp control of urban education. Oftentimes, this means that power is taken out of the hands of the racial minority in one of the few sectors where they have been able to gain control (Hill). This top-down management of education, as history has proven, is the lifeblood of oppression. In his Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire contrasts “bank education,” in which knowledge is deposited in a unilateral transaction, with “problem-posing education,” which promotes the emergence of critical consciousness through dialogue. He argues that banking education perpetuates myths among the oppressed that they are inferior, incapable of influencing society, know nothing, and are a disease to be purged (Freire). Thus, while the Residential and Economic forms of American Apartheid affect what the racial minorities in the U.S. are able to do, Educational Apartheid goes as far as to corrupt how they think.
This “marred identity” of the racially and economically oppressed is reflected and reinforced in what will here be termed Socio-Political Apartheid. Caught in the grip of centuries of institutional racism, minorities have been driven to remain in “survival mode.” As they have struggled for a competitive economic advantage and a political voice, they have been thwarted by internal problems: broken families, violence, and drug abuse. For families who cannot find work or a living wage due to Economic Apartheid, public welfare becomes an incentive not to get married, because single parents are eligible for more aid (Wilson). Violence is a plague for all; one in four Philadelphians would move because of crime if they had the resources (MPPC). Racial profiling means minorities spend more time behind bars than their White criminal counterparts, and they are thus prevented from furthering their educations and entering the productive workforce. The drug trade, realistically speaking, is a more cost-effective livelihood for Apartheid victims who have been otherwise excluded from the legitimate job market. All these social hurdles, however, appear to the oppressor as symptoms of poverty's disease, prompting them only to fortify the walls of their Socio-Political Apartheid.
In response to the clear evidence of a historically pervasive American Apartheid, journalist Michael Katz asks, Why aren't the U.S. cities burning? Where are the protests – outcries for justice? He answers his question in part with a theory termed the “management of marginalization.” Part of the tactics of the dominant race and class have been to allow for selective incorporation of minorities in the controlling regime, mimetic, ineffective reform policies, and indirect or incomplete minority authority. They have also perpetuated scare tactics and encouraged minorities to be enveloped into the culture of the Consumer Republic (Katz). These practices have fooled masses of Americans into believing that, for the most part, racism is dead. Until this myth is unmasked, the wheels of oppression will spin on unhindered. Just as Robert Kennedy concluded in the face of South African Apartheid, people must open their eyes and act: “Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”
“Apartheid.” Dictionary.com. Random House, Inc., 2006.
“A Tale of Two Cities.” Philadelphia Workforce Investment Board (PWIB), 2007.
Bullard, Robert D., J. Eugene Grigsby III and Charles Lee, Eds. Residential Apartheid: The American Legacy. Los Angeles: University of California, 1994.
Fishman, Robert. “The American Metropolis at Century's End: Past and Future Influences.” Housing Policy Debate. Fannie Mae Foundation, 2000.
“Flight (or) Fight: Metropolitan Philadelphia and its Future.” The Metropolitan Philadelphia Policy Center (MPPC), 2001.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum International, 1970.
Hill, Michael. “Editorial: Race, Politics, and the Schools.” The Baltimore Sun. 28 May 2006.
Katz, Michael B. “Why Aren't U.S. Cities Burning?” Dissent. Summer 2007.
“The Price is Wrong: Getting the Market Right for Working Families in Philadelphia.” The Brookings Institution Metropolitan Policy Program (BIMPP), 2005.
Wilson, William J. When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor. New York: Vintage Books, 1996.
****************
Though “apartheid” is an Afrikaans term usually associated with South Africa and Nelson Mandela, it has taken on new meaning in recent years. Social scientists are beginning to refer to the United States' entrenched system of institutional racism as the “American Apartheid.” This institutional racism is defined as the actions prescribed by an organization or social network of the dominant racial group that by intention have a negative impact on members of subordinate racial groups (Bullard et al.). Though systematic in nature, American Apartheid is enacted by individuals. And while the term may be relatively new, the individual decisions and actions that shaped the current condition are part of a centuries-old metanarrative of oppression. This oppression began, and is often driven, by race-based prejudice, but it is intimately tied to class as well. A dictionary definition of apartheid deems it “any system or practice that separates people according to race, caste, etc.” (Dictionary.com). Examined in the context of its more recent history, American Apartheid, not unlike South African Apartheid, has robbed millions of people of their human dignity and social voice based solely on their race or economic class.
American Apartheid spans the entire spectrum of social systems; it will be examined here in terms of its residential, economic, educational, and socio-political impacts. Almost universally, the racism discussed here is legal – not punishable by the current laws. The Residential Apartheid that is evident in most large U.S. cities today took shape in the era just before and just after World War II. Two vast movements occurred in close sequence – the Great Migration of African-Americans into northern cities from the South, and the deindustrialization of America's urban centers. These phenomena were prompted, at least in part, by two major federal acts – the National Housing Act of 1934 and the Interstate Highway Act of 1956. The National Housing Act created the Federal Housing Administration (FHA), who would enable home mortgages to be issued with low down payments and long-term fixed interest rates. The FHA had its desired effect – home ownership increased by 22% - but African-Americans were completely excluded from these benefits through a process called “redlining.” As the minorities were denied access to new homes and nice neighborhoods, segregated ghettos began to form. This process was catalyzed by the Interstate Highway Act, in which the federal government subsidized 90% of the cost of building new highways, which enabled those with cars to move further and further from the city center and left those without to become increasingly “quarantined” (Fishman).
As a result, Philadelphia, Chester, Camden, and Norristown house 77% of this region's minority population, while the vast majority of the suburbs are over 90% White (Metropolitan Philadelphia Policy Center). Whereas residential segregation decreases for most racial and ethnic groups with additional education, income, and occupational status, American Apartheid has ensured that this does not hold true for African-Americans (Bullard et al.). Because for generations they were not eligible for mortgages, most African-American households have been forced to rent (Philadelphia Affordable Housing Coalition). The federal government defines housing as “affordable” that costs no more than 30% of a household's income, which means that more than one in five Philadelphians cannot afford their current housing. This is not to mention the city's homeless, for whom the government pays $67 million per year in shelter costs and other services (PAHC). It is clear that the inner city, and especially the African-American population, are in the midst of a residential crisis.
The Civil Rights Movement did prompt some legislative efforts to curb this crisis, including the Fair Housing Act of 1968 and the Community Reinvestment Act of 1977. These initiatives, however, and even their more recent revisions, have been ineffective and poorly enforced (Bullard et al.). Housing discrimination still occurs in a plethora of forms: absentee landlords, subjective lending, stereotyping about neighborhoods, discrimination in terms and conditions, refusals to deal, discriminatory advertising, falsely represented availability, and denials of real estate services. How has nothing been done to stop this blatant institutional racism? Because those with the power to change it are blind to its existence: 75% of U.S. Whites surveyed do not believe that housing discrimination even exists (Bullard et al.).
Deeply connected to the U.S.'s Residential Apartheid is its Economic Apartheid. Racial minorities and those with low incomes have been systematically prevented from participating in the “American Dream” of economic success or even stability. Industrial and other low-wage jobs have moved out of the city and even out of the country, and in their place is a rising high-skilled “knowledge sector.” Access to the knowledge sector comes only through higher education, which as the next section will demonstrate, has also been denied to non-Whites and the lower class. As a result, these apartheid victims have no stepping stone out of poverty. According to the Philadelphia Workforce Investment Board (PWIB), 45% of Philadelphia's working age adults are neither working nor looking for work, placing the city in 96th place for labor force participation among the U.S.'s 100 largest cities. Even among those who do work, one out of three households in Philadelphia makes less than $20,000 per year (PAHC). Wages for low-skilled labor have also become less-than-livable, dropping 30% from 1970 to 1989 (Wilson). As if that weren't enough, Economic Apartheid has also left low-income residents paying higher prices for all their basic necessities:
- Car purchases: Low-income customers can pay over $500 more for the same car.
- Car loans: 50% of low-income customers pay above average, compared to only 25% of high-income customers.
- Car insurance: High-income customers pay a minimum of $400 less per year.
- Grocery prices: Bigger, cheaper stores don't exist in low-income neighborhoods.
- Cashing checks: Using check cashers instead of banks costs $450-900 in charges per year.
- Short-term loans: Predatory lenders such as payday lenders, tax preparation services that provide rapid refunds, pawnbrokers, and title lenders charge interest rates of up to 400%.
- Gas prices: Prices are higher in the city, where more low-income households are located.
- Home loans: 52% of low-income customers pay above average, compared to only 32% of high-income customers.
- Home insurance: High-income customers pay a minimum of $50-150 less every 6 months.
- Home appliances and furnishing: Low-income customers are more likely to use rent-to-own stores, which mark up items 90% above their retail prices.
- Real estate taxes: Low-income households have an error rate (difference between taxes paid and actual home value) 35% higher than the city average, while the high-income rate is 3% lower than the city average. (Brookings Institution Metropolitan Policy Program)
Another facet of the U.S. story's oppressive regime is its Educational Apartheid. Technically speaking, the segregation of public schools has been banned since the ruling in Brown v. The Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas in 1954. In actuality, however, academic segregation is still a ubiquitous reality in U.S. cities. High school dropout rates hover around 50%, and only 20% of Philadelphians have college degrees. The quality of education is also dismal; over 60% of adults in Philadelphia are considered low-literate (PWIB). The reasons for this are numerous, but a primary cause is inadequate resources and funding. Only four states in the country have educational funding more unequal than in Pennsylvania (MPPC). In most areas, school funding is directly linked to property taxes, so it is no wonder that rich neighborhoods have better schools. State support is also disproportionately poured into the predominantly White, middle-class suburbs rather than the struggling inner city schools. When school districts demonstrate a consistent failure to educate their students, there has been a growing trend for the state government to usurp control of urban education. Oftentimes, this means that power is taken out of the hands of the racial minority in one of the few sectors where they have been able to gain control (Hill). This top-down management of education, as history has proven, is the lifeblood of oppression. In his Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire contrasts “bank education,” in which knowledge is deposited in a unilateral transaction, with “problem-posing education,” which promotes the emergence of critical consciousness through dialogue. He argues that banking education perpetuates myths among the oppressed that they are inferior, incapable of influencing society, know nothing, and are a disease to be purged (Freire). Thus, while the Residential and Economic forms of American Apartheid affect what the racial minorities in the U.S. are able to do, Educational Apartheid goes as far as to corrupt how they think.
This “marred identity” of the racially and economically oppressed is reflected and reinforced in what will here be termed Socio-Political Apartheid. Caught in the grip of centuries of institutional racism, minorities have been driven to remain in “survival mode.” As they have struggled for a competitive economic advantage and a political voice, they have been thwarted by internal problems: broken families, violence, and drug abuse. For families who cannot find work or a living wage due to Economic Apartheid, public welfare becomes an incentive not to get married, because single parents are eligible for more aid (Wilson). Violence is a plague for all; one in four Philadelphians would move because of crime if they had the resources (MPPC). Racial profiling means minorities spend more time behind bars than their White criminal counterparts, and they are thus prevented from furthering their educations and entering the productive workforce. The drug trade, realistically speaking, is a more cost-effective livelihood for Apartheid victims who have been otherwise excluded from the legitimate job market. All these social hurdles, however, appear to the oppressor as symptoms of poverty's disease, prompting them only to fortify the walls of their Socio-Political Apartheid.
In response to the clear evidence of a historically pervasive American Apartheid, journalist Michael Katz asks, Why aren't the U.S. cities burning? Where are the protests – outcries for justice? He answers his question in part with a theory termed the “management of marginalization.” Part of the tactics of the dominant race and class have been to allow for selective incorporation of minorities in the controlling regime, mimetic, ineffective reform policies, and indirect or incomplete minority authority. They have also perpetuated scare tactics and encouraged minorities to be enveloped into the culture of the Consumer Republic (Katz). These practices have fooled masses of Americans into believing that, for the most part, racism is dead. Until this myth is unmasked, the wheels of oppression will spin on unhindered. Just as Robert Kennedy concluded in the face of South African Apartheid, people must open their eyes and act: “Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”
Works Cited
“A Call to Action: Philadelphia's Affordable Housing Crisis and What We Can Do About It.” Philadelphia Affordable Housing Coalition (PAHC), 2003.“Apartheid.” Dictionary.com. Random House, Inc., 2006.
“A Tale of Two Cities.” Philadelphia Workforce Investment Board (PWIB), 2007.
Bullard, Robert D., J. Eugene Grigsby III and Charles Lee, Eds. Residential Apartheid: The American Legacy. Los Angeles: University of California, 1994.
Fishman, Robert. “The American Metropolis at Century's End: Past and Future Influences.” Housing Policy Debate. Fannie Mae Foundation, 2000.
“Flight (or) Fight: Metropolitan Philadelphia and its Future.” The Metropolitan Philadelphia Policy Center (MPPC), 2001.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum International, 1970.
Hill, Michael. “Editorial: Race, Politics, and the Schools.” The Baltimore Sun. 28 May 2006.
Katz, Michael B. “Why Aren't U.S. Cities Burning?” Dissent. Summer 2007.
“The Price is Wrong: Getting the Market Right for Working Families in Philadelphia.” The Brookings Institution Metropolitan Policy Program (BIMPP), 2005.
Wilson, William J. When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor. New York: Vintage Books, 1996.
Flamebo Searches for the Rainbow
Published on our Appalachian Trail blog on 8/17/2008.
I used to love rain. Freshman year of college, I remember making a “Rain Songs” playlist on my big Dell desktop that included (among other fab tunes) “Let it Rain” by Michael W. Smith, “When the Rain Comes” by Third Day, and “Bring on the Rain” by Jo Dee Messina (these say a lot about who I was freshman year). At Middlebury, I often went outside when it rained. I loved how rain was God’s way of sympathizing with tears, and the more drenched I was, the better I felt. I had happy rain memories from my summer at Camp Greystone, too, where evening downpours would beat on the tin cabin roof so hard that we’d have to shout over it to be heard giving the devotion and saying goodnight to the girls. Then during my Mission Year in Camden, I took advantage of the rain to go puddle-jumping or just sit on the porch with a cup of tea and talk or think. On the Fourth of July that year, we went to a big outdoor concert without our rain gear and got dumped on for hours. We stayed through the fireworks, though, and then trekked the two miles home singing all the way, the rain never letting up.
This isn’t to say that I never encountered the proverbial “rainy day” in a negative sense. At Camp Illini, a day camp I attended around the age of 8 or 9, the end-of-session campout was the most-anticipated night of the summer. After a long, wet and sleepless night, I remember being shuffled out of our tents and into a picnic shelter, where the counselors held up soggy lost and found items: a lone sock, a pair of underwear, a Barbie…another rough rain moment for me was during my semester in Belize. Though I was there during the dry season, we did have a week or two of rain in which I first experienced the sensation of never really being totally warm or dry. Buildings are not sealed off to the elements, there are no hot showers, and if you walk to work in the rain, you are wet all day. Rain in Juarez, Mexico, another place I’ve felt a connection to over the years, is rare and dangerous. Even the smallest amount of rain floods out streets and homes, and people are often killed. So my love for rain was always framed by a great respect: it was beautiful but powerful, and certainly outside of my control.
Little did I realize, however, that it’s easy to find affection for rain when you are able to escape it. During the last 35 of our 44 days on the trail, I have not been so lucky, and I now have an entirely new understanding of what it means to be wet. On July 8th, the day we hiked Whitecap Mountain in Maine, my journal entry reads, “Rain! First experience…not too fun.” Ha! What did I know??! Over a month later, the freak weather system that has settled in has never granted us a full day without rain since I wrote those words. We have been stranded twice due to high water making rivers impassable and once due to the risk of hypothermia in the freezing rain. Our clothes and shoes are never dry, and each morning we wake up and are forced to don them, cold and dank. Everything smells like mildew – pack, clothes, tent – and everything is caked in mud. Our packs don’t just feel heavier – the sogginess of our belongings probably adds a good five pounds. We probably risk dehydration, because some days the thought of water just makes you rage. We often walk with frozen fingers and toes, and our constantly running noses must be blown on soaking wet handkerchiefs. When we take off our shoes and socks at night, we (Laura especially) have been known to frighten small children with our “Cling-on feet,” eerily wrinkled and gray. Lizzie can’t see out of her fogged glasses half the time, and there’s never a dry ounce of fabric to be found on which to wipe them. Stopping for lunch loses its charm when it means squeezing grape jelly onto a soggy bagel while sitting in a puddle. Sometimes the AT is an ankle-deep stream, though it’s true that that’s better than the sections of waist-deep mud pits. On cold days, we can’t stop or we’ll freeze, and I’ve never been so desperate for a floor and four walls. Mountaintop views are a treat so rare that the slightest hint of a break in the clouds has everyone stopping, shouting for joy, and madly snapping pictures before the moment passes. Gore-tex is little more than a joke.
A caretaker at one campsite introduced us to the phrase, “No rain, no pain, no Maine,” but even crossing the border into New Hampshire couldn’t put an end to the deluge. Many others have told us, “Well it can’t rain forever, right?” to which we respond with a shrug and return to ringing out our socks. I can think of a number of explanations for the relentlessness of the rain we have faced. The first is Divine Punishment. Perhaps because of their religious skepticism, cold manners, or aggressive driving, God decided to wipe out all of New England in a flood, and he forgot to instruct The Vermont Mafia on how to build an ark. Another possible explanation is Character Building. What doesn’t kill us is said to make us stronger, so my comrades and I are being tested to the extreme. The only problem is that instead of making us tougher, this rain is softening up all our callouses and causing us to get blisters again. Of course another logical justification for 35 straight days of record precipitation is GLOBAL WARMING. This brings us full circle to Divine Punishment (we brought it upon ourselves), so I’m going to settle on some combination of all three reasons as ultimately responsible for the onslaught.
Now I am told that every cloud has a silver lining. Let me then attempt to mine the skies of western Maine and eastern New Hampshire for all they are worth. For one, we have re-learned the beauty of music. When we walked out of the rain into our first White Mountain Hut, Carter Notch, to smell baking pies and hear the banjo twangs of Alison Krauss, I felt comfort warm my soul as it hadn’t in weeks. When we climbed through the window of the Wildcat Mountain Ski Patrol hut to escape the storm and wait out the night, thru-hikers Grizz and Earthworm serenaded us on the ukulele with tunes by Phish and Bob Marley. When we were visited on the trail by Lizzie’s cousin Russ and aunt Jude, Jude’s rendition of “Climb Every Mountain” from The Sound of Music made the thunder we were hearing sound pitifully weak. In addition to music, I have also learned to appreciate the silver linings of flexibility and faith. As if walking everywhere weren’t enough, the rain has forced us to slow down even more. Doing less miles and not making planned destinations has – in spite of my initial groans – meant extra time with friends and family and more good stories to tell. Finally, every small blessing has taken on greater meaning – the sun, a patch of blue sky, a pair of dry socks, a four-walled structure, a warm drink. Hopefully I won’t take them for granted anytime soon. So, as I sit here taking a respite in my air conditioned kitchen in Illinois as the sun beats down outside, I must admit that one thing can definitely be said for rain: it makes for memories!
Farewell to Camden
This was the final update from my time in Camden, NJ, composed in July 2007.
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God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind.
–2 Timothy 1:7
This is the theme verse for Camp Spirit, the Urban Promise summer camp for 5th through 8th graders where I work. I’ve found it fitting that I should end my year reciting a verse each day that sums up so perfectly what this year has meant for me. Fear is one of my greatest struggles. Part of it comes from being naturally shy, and part of it, as I have learned, comes from a lack of faith in who God tells me I am and what He tells me I should be capable of. So in my final newsletter of the year, I hope to pick apart this verse in light of how God has used Camden to chip away at my spirit of fear.
Not a spirit of fear, but of power
Looking back, it’s pretty obvious that over the last 11 months, I didn’t change Camden. If anything, things have gotten worse. Camden did, however, change me. In the words of Che Guevara, “Let the world change you, and you can change the world.” Maybe I wasn’t able to reduce the murder rate or the drug trafficking, but I was able to see the affects of these problems. I learned on the macro level about the systems of oppression that perpetuate poverty and crime, and I learned on the micro level about individuals and families that yearn for a better world. Just this week, Camden’s murder count for the year hit 23 (last year at this time there were 16), and the latest victim was the mother of my camp kids’ classmate and friend – beaten to death by her husband who was drunk and high. The best I can do is to join with the people of Camden in their pain – to share their wounds. This is the spirit of power that the Lord has given me. Because I was not afraid to take this risk, to live amongst and work alongside these people, I have gained more insight than reading books or watching 20/20 alone could ever give me. My eyes have also been opened to the blessings I have: my education, support network, and most importantly my faith empower me to work for change – to build God’s kingdom and establish the peace, justice, and abundant life of shalom.
Not a spirit of fear, but of love
Just as I didn’t do much good affecting a social revolution in Camden, I wasn’t that good at loving people, either. The most I can say is that I was present, and that I did my best to care in the little time that I had. Archbishop Oscar Romero once said, “So you say you love the poor…name them.” That I can do: there’s Kelley, Shermere, Pastor Tim, David Collins, Angel, Scott, Eddie, Beltran, Tina…I could go on for pages. In the last month, these people have spoiled us to death. We’ve been taken to New York and Atlantic City and attended all sorts of lunches, barbecues, and ceremonies in our honor. I guess my presence made some sort of impact. Even if I couldn’t right all the wrongs of their education system or get a single homeless person off the street, they noticed the sacrifices that I made to come and live and work in a foreign and sometimes hostile environment for a year for no pay and with no T.V. (God forbid!). While I came to Camden touting a pretty prideful kind of love – crusading on behalf of justice and God’s-heart-for-the-poor – I will be leaving cloaked in a humbler love – begging my friends here not to forget me, and praying that God will not let me forget them. Love, I think, is the aspect of God’s spirit that is most violently attacked by fear. Love requires us to be vulnerable, to make sacrifices, and to let go of all that makes us comfortable to make room for the comfort of others.
Not a spirit of fear, but of a sound mind
Coming to Camden, I think I was unaware how much Mission Year would change my mind. I was so excited to live and work with “likeminded” people that I didn’t anticipate the drastic shifts in perspective that soon confronted me. Through books, movies, speakers, and innumerable practical experiences, my mind was flooded with new ideas about poverty, race, education, development, community, and most of all God. I’m now realizing that I want this to be my life. I never want to stop being a sponge for Truth. I don’t want to work a job where I’m not constantly challenged by new ideas, and I don’t want to pursue learning that I can’t live out practically. This desire is what has led me to choose the newly created Mission Year/Eastern University graduate partnership for my next adventure. I’ll be doing a full time Masters program at Eastern in Urban Development while living in inner city Philadelphia (probably the west side) and practicing a simple community lifestyle and neighborhood ministry very similar to what I did this year. It’s basically Mission Year again with education substituted for community service. I am planning, however, to volunteer a few hours a week with an organization that runs dance (and other art-based) classes for youth in homeless shelters. I am really, really excited to further this year’s growth – I’m going back to school, but not back to the bubble. I pray that next year, like this one, will be a time of cramming my mind so full of the age-old yet revolutionary wisdom of God that there’s no room left for a spirit of fear!
In the words of one of my favorite 90’s tunes, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” Thanks for sticking with me, friends!
Faithfully fearless,
Devon
***************
God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind.
–2 Timothy 1:7
This is the theme verse for Camp Spirit, the Urban Promise summer camp for 5th through 8th graders where I work. I’ve found it fitting that I should end my year reciting a verse each day that sums up so perfectly what this year has meant for me. Fear is one of my greatest struggles. Part of it comes from being naturally shy, and part of it, as I have learned, comes from a lack of faith in who God tells me I am and what He tells me I should be capable of. So in my final newsletter of the year, I hope to pick apart this verse in light of how God has used Camden to chip away at my spirit of fear.
Not a spirit of fear, but of power
Looking back, it’s pretty obvious that over the last 11 months, I didn’t change Camden. If anything, things have gotten worse. Camden did, however, change me. In the words of Che Guevara, “Let the world change you, and you can change the world.” Maybe I wasn’t able to reduce the murder rate or the drug trafficking, but I was able to see the affects of these problems. I learned on the macro level about the systems of oppression that perpetuate poverty and crime, and I learned on the micro level about individuals and families that yearn for a better world. Just this week, Camden’s murder count for the year hit 23 (last year at this time there were 16), and the latest victim was the mother of my camp kids’ classmate and friend – beaten to death by her husband who was drunk and high. The best I can do is to join with the people of Camden in their pain – to share their wounds. This is the spirit of power that the Lord has given me. Because I was not afraid to take this risk, to live amongst and work alongside these people, I have gained more insight than reading books or watching 20/20 alone could ever give me. My eyes have also been opened to the blessings I have: my education, support network, and most importantly my faith empower me to work for change – to build God’s kingdom and establish the peace, justice, and abundant life of shalom.
Not a spirit of fear, but of love
Just as I didn’t do much good affecting a social revolution in Camden, I wasn’t that good at loving people, either. The most I can say is that I was present, and that I did my best to care in the little time that I had. Archbishop Oscar Romero once said, “So you say you love the poor…name them.” That I can do: there’s Kelley, Shermere, Pastor Tim, David Collins, Angel, Scott, Eddie, Beltran, Tina…I could go on for pages. In the last month, these people have spoiled us to death. We’ve been taken to New York and Atlantic City and attended all sorts of lunches, barbecues, and ceremonies in our honor. I guess my presence made some sort of impact. Even if I couldn’t right all the wrongs of their education system or get a single homeless person off the street, they noticed the sacrifices that I made to come and live and work in a foreign and sometimes hostile environment for a year for no pay and with no T.V. (God forbid!). While I came to Camden touting a pretty prideful kind of love – crusading on behalf of justice and God’s-heart-for-the-poor – I will be leaving cloaked in a humbler love – begging my friends here not to forget me, and praying that God will not let me forget them. Love, I think, is the aspect of God’s spirit that is most violently attacked by fear. Love requires us to be vulnerable, to make sacrifices, and to let go of all that makes us comfortable to make room for the comfort of others.
Not a spirit of fear, but of a sound mind
Coming to Camden, I think I was unaware how much Mission Year would change my mind. I was so excited to live and work with “likeminded” people that I didn’t anticipate the drastic shifts in perspective that soon confronted me. Through books, movies, speakers, and innumerable practical experiences, my mind was flooded with new ideas about poverty, race, education, development, community, and most of all God. I’m now realizing that I want this to be my life. I never want to stop being a sponge for Truth. I don’t want to work a job where I’m not constantly challenged by new ideas, and I don’t want to pursue learning that I can’t live out practically. This desire is what has led me to choose the newly created Mission Year/Eastern University graduate partnership for my next adventure. I’ll be doing a full time Masters program at Eastern in Urban Development while living in inner city Philadelphia (probably the west side) and practicing a simple community lifestyle and neighborhood ministry very similar to what I did this year. It’s basically Mission Year again with education substituted for community service. I am planning, however, to volunteer a few hours a week with an organization that runs dance (and other art-based) classes for youth in homeless shelters. I am really, really excited to further this year’s growth – I’m going back to school, but not back to the bubble. I pray that next year, like this one, will be a time of cramming my mind so full of the age-old yet revolutionary wisdom of God that there’s no room left for a spirit of fear!
In the words of one of my favorite 90’s tunes, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” Thanks for sticking with me, friends!
Faithfully fearless,
Devon
Not All Who Wander Are Lost
Written for the May 2007 update from my time in Camden, NJ.
***********
Not all who wander are lost.
-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
This little statement has been the theme of my month. Each day seems to bring with it a new degree of randomness, but I’ve long believed that in God’s world, there are no coincidences. Let me explain…
For one, there’s Phillip. Phillip is a crazy Kenyan that used to be an intern for Urban Promise and now divides his time between working in a nursing home and with a church youth group. We first met him when he showed up at our door after 10:00 on a Saturday night back in March. He asked if he might come in and talk to us, and as weird as it was, we welcomed him in. For the next half hour, Phillip shared with us stories of his time at Urban Promise, borrowed a Bible and read us an encouraging verse, borrowed a guitar and played for us a song he’d written, and prayed for us. We were pretty impressed for never having met the guy before.
Since then, Phillip has been a regular – though still unpredictable – part of our lives. He has a knack for showing up right when we’re putting food on the table; he’s been here three times now when we’ve had other guests for dinner. The thing about Phillip is he’s not ashamed. He’s not ashamed to knock on our door and crash a party, and he’s not ashamed of the gospel. When we had the crew from the community development firm where Brent works over one night, Phillip was uncharacteristically quiet for much of the meal. Then, just at the critical juncture, he courteously asked, “Where do you think poverty in Camden comes from?” Bam! Before we knew what’d happened, untold testimonies were being poured out, fears and faiths were being revealed, and the conversation had become beautifully centered on God.
There have been other examples, though I don’t have space to mention them here, of strange events that have led me to find spiritual wisdom in the most unexpected places and people. Camden is a living example of Tolkien’s adage – I am no longer surprised to find God among the weak, the wanderers, and the outcasts. Heck, I myself am one of them! I have spent much of this month pacing back and forth between plans for next year: Should I stay? Should I go home? Should I dance? How much? I feel confused and unguided. I’m growing to understand, though, that the Holy Spirit likes to work this way. As long as we leave a back door open, he’ll walk right in, uninvited, and turn everything we thought we knew completely upside-down. Our flexibility gives him room to work. I’ve also started to see that a lot of people who think they have it all
figured out don’t. God prefers those who doubt, seek, wait and wander to those who sit and gloat that they’ve found the answers and have everything they need. He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” In the end, he wants to be the one to satisfy us, to fill us up – he needs us to wander so that he can lead us home.
***********
Not all who wander are lost.
-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
This little statement has been the theme of my month. Each day seems to bring with it a new degree of randomness, but I’ve long believed that in God’s world, there are no coincidences. Let me explain…
For one, there’s Phillip. Phillip is a crazy Kenyan that used to be an intern for Urban Promise and now divides his time between working in a nursing home and with a church youth group. We first met him when he showed up at our door after 10:00 on a Saturday night back in March. He asked if he might come in and talk to us, and as weird as it was, we welcomed him in. For the next half hour, Phillip shared with us stories of his time at Urban Promise, borrowed a Bible and read us an encouraging verse, borrowed a guitar and played for us a song he’d written, and prayed for us. We were pretty impressed for never having met the guy before.
Since then, Phillip has been a regular – though still unpredictable – part of our lives. He has a knack for showing up right when we’re putting food on the table; he’s been here three times now when we’ve had other guests for dinner. The thing about Phillip is he’s not ashamed. He’s not ashamed to knock on our door and crash a party, and he’s not ashamed of the gospel. When we had the crew from the community development firm where Brent works over one night, Phillip was uncharacteristically quiet for much of the meal. Then, just at the critical juncture, he courteously asked, “Where do you think poverty in Camden comes from?” Bam! Before we knew what’d happened, untold testimonies were being poured out, fears and faiths were being revealed, and the conversation had become beautifully centered on God.
There have been other examples, though I don’t have space to mention them here, of strange events that have led me to find spiritual wisdom in the most unexpected places and people. Camden is a living example of Tolkien’s adage – I am no longer surprised to find God among the weak, the wanderers, and the outcasts. Heck, I myself am one of them! I have spent much of this month pacing back and forth between plans for next year: Should I stay? Should I go home? Should I dance? How much? I feel confused and unguided. I’m growing to understand, though, that the Holy Spirit likes to work this way. As long as we leave a back door open, he’ll walk right in, uninvited, and turn everything we thought we knew completely upside-down. Our flexibility gives him room to work. I’ve also started to see that a lot of people who think they have it all
figured out don’t. God prefers those who doubt, seek, wait and wander to those who sit and gloat that they’ve found the answers and have everything they need. He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” In the end, he wants to be the one to satisfy us, to fill us up – he needs us to wander so that he can lead us home.
The World According to Noah
Written for the April 2007 update from my time in Camden, NJ.
************
“In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, on the seventeenth day of the second month – on that day all the springs of the great deep burst forth, and the floodgates of the heavens were opened. And rain fell on the earth for forty days and forty nights.”
The day I returned from Russia, Camden and much of the Northeast were hit with a remarkably heavy rainstorm. My plane did a few figure eights before landing, but we made it okay. Two of my trains were detoured on buses because of downed trees on the tracks. At 11pm, I finally made it home to discover that our basement had a good three inches of puke-colored water from wall to wall. We decided to shut the door and wait till morning.
Dealing with the aftermath of the “springs of the great deep bursting forth” ended up being the story of the week. I enjoyed the challenge of playing amateur plumber and rigging sump pump hoses out basement windows, but the thrill died when it got to carrying boxes full of wet books and later 20-gallon shop vacs full of water up stairs when our worksite flooded for a second time. Things like this are always great for giving me a little perspective, though – occasionally I need a reminder that life here was never supposed to be easy. Some added perspective came when Brent’s bike was stolen (they broke the U-lock) out of our back shed. How can I complain about three inches of water and some wet books when Hurricane Katrina’s recovery will take decades? How can we complain about stolen possessions when poverty has robbed the people of Camden of their safety, educations, freedoms, and futures? I will always have it good. I will always be blessed – solely because of circumstances out of my control like where I was born, who my parents are, and the color of my skin.
Like Noah, though, somehow I have to believe that I was chosen for this task for a reason. I’m more than lucky, but I can’t let my privilege drive me into guilt or apathy. I’m here to do what I can – to weather the storm – because through it I think God has a lot of beauty to reveal.
May the floodgates of heaven open up on you all,
Devon
************
“In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, on the seventeenth day of the second month – on that day all the springs of the great deep burst forth, and the floodgates of the heavens were opened. And rain fell on the earth for forty days and forty nights.”
The day I returned from Russia, Camden and much of the Northeast were hit with a remarkably heavy rainstorm. My plane did a few figure eights before landing, but we made it okay. Two of my trains were detoured on buses because of downed trees on the tracks. At 11pm, I finally made it home to discover that our basement had a good three inches of puke-colored water from wall to wall. We decided to shut the door and wait till morning.
Dealing with the aftermath of the “springs of the great deep bursting forth” ended up being the story of the week. I enjoyed the challenge of playing amateur plumber and rigging sump pump hoses out basement windows, but the thrill died when it got to carrying boxes full of wet books and later 20-gallon shop vacs full of water up stairs when our worksite flooded for a second time. Things like this are always great for giving me a little perspective, though – occasionally I need a reminder that life here was never supposed to be easy. Some added perspective came when Brent’s bike was stolen (they broke the U-lock) out of our back shed. How can I complain about three inches of water and some wet books when Hurricane Katrina’s recovery will take decades? How can we complain about stolen possessions when poverty has robbed the people of Camden of their safety, educations, freedoms, and futures? I will always have it good. I will always be blessed – solely because of circumstances out of my control like where I was born, who my parents are, and the color of my skin.
Like Noah, though, somehow I have to believe that I was chosen for this task for a reason. I’m more than lucky, but I can’t let my privilege drive me into guilt or apathy. I’m here to do what I can – to weather the storm – because through it I think God has a lot of beauty to reveal.
May the floodgates of heaven open up on you all,
Devon
A Thanksgiving Story
Written in the December 2006 update from my time in Camden, NJ.
************
It was the day before Thanksgiving, and Brent (my housemate) was busy working at his morning site, a housing and community development organization. In the course of the morning, a bedraggled looking man came to the door looking to speak with someone who wasn’t there. In an effort to help in any way he could, Brent struck up a conversation with the man, and before
long, he had offered him a spare turkey that we happened to know was available in the Urban Promise fridge. When Brent asked the man his name, he was surprised to hear that he was David Collins – the same guy who had come to our house several times back in September asking for food and whose medical card we were holding as collateral for $5 that he never returned to repay! Even more determined to give David another chance, Brent agreed to meet him when he got off work so they could walk together to pick up the turkey.
David never showed up. Brent came home by himself, and just when we had resolved that the turkey would never have a home, David appeared on our doorstep, and we invited him inside. A self-proclaimed “bum,” he proceeded to explain to us why he had never returned for his medical card two months before. He’d been in and out of jail several times for failing to pay tickets he’d received: one for loitering, one for drinking in public (he claims his beer can was unopened), and one for walking through a drug zone (what part of Camden isn’t a drug zone?!!).
It’s an interesting cycle: he couldn’t pay the tickets, so he spent time in jail. While in jail, he was unable to work and thus lost his job. In general, he has trouble getting work because he has a disability and cannot stand for long periods. He gets welfare for his disability, but it stipulates that he cannot work for more than about 2 hours a day. The welfare and a 2-hour-a-day job are not enough to support his wife and kids, so he actually has to pretend to be separated from his wife and live in a seperate house so she can get single parent welfare, too.
David is a man of faith. He is honest, trusting, authentic, talented, educated, athletic, and caring. He is doing his best not only to get by, but to live a life that is glorifying to God. Sure, he has made his share of mistakes. But he forced me to ask myself, how much is his sad situation a result of his decisions and character, and how much of it is the result of being trapped in an injust system? In the words of Martin Luther King, “Give a man a fish and you’ll feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you’ll feed him for a lifetime. Eventually, though, you’ll want to start asking yourself who owns the pond.”
After a long and enlightening talk, Brent, Megan and I walked David and his turkey home to his house. He had told us the truth. Let’s just say I was feeling pretty blessed this Thanksgiving by a so-called bum!
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It was the day before Thanksgiving, and Brent (my housemate) was busy working at his morning site, a housing and community development organization. In the course of the morning, a bedraggled looking man came to the door looking to speak with someone who wasn’t there. In an effort to help in any way he could, Brent struck up a conversation with the man, and before
long, he had offered him a spare turkey that we happened to know was available in the Urban Promise fridge. When Brent asked the man his name, he was surprised to hear that he was David Collins – the same guy who had come to our house several times back in September asking for food and whose medical card we were holding as collateral for $5 that he never returned to repay! Even more determined to give David another chance, Brent agreed to meet him when he got off work so they could walk together to pick up the turkey.
David never showed up. Brent came home by himself, and just when we had resolved that the turkey would never have a home, David appeared on our doorstep, and we invited him inside. A self-proclaimed “bum,” he proceeded to explain to us why he had never returned for his medical card two months before. He’d been in and out of jail several times for failing to pay tickets he’d received: one for loitering, one for drinking in public (he claims his beer can was unopened), and one for walking through a drug zone (what part of Camden isn’t a drug zone?!!).
It’s an interesting cycle: he couldn’t pay the tickets, so he spent time in jail. While in jail, he was unable to work and thus lost his job. In general, he has trouble getting work because he has a disability and cannot stand for long periods. He gets welfare for his disability, but it stipulates that he cannot work for more than about 2 hours a day. The welfare and a 2-hour-a-day job are not enough to support his wife and kids, so he actually has to pretend to be separated from his wife and live in a seperate house so she can get single parent welfare, too.
David is a man of faith. He is honest, trusting, authentic, talented, educated, athletic, and caring. He is doing his best not only to get by, but to live a life that is glorifying to God. Sure, he has made his share of mistakes. But he forced me to ask myself, how much is his sad situation a result of his decisions and character, and how much of it is the result of being trapped in an injust system? In the words of Martin Luther King, “Give a man a fish and you’ll feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you’ll feed him for a lifetime. Eventually, though, you’ll want to start asking yourself who owns the pond.”
After a long and enlightening talk, Brent, Megan and I walked David and his turkey home to his house. He had told us the truth. Let’s just say I was feeling pretty blessed this Thanksgiving by a so-called bum!
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