Preferential Option for the Poor... including YOU.

Today I got to listen to a presentation about liberation theology, and as I took notes on things known as well as new ideas, I re-lived my days in El Salvador when I first learned about this subject that has stolen my heart, my thoughts, and my Google Reader feed.

In the class I'm taking with Ciudad Nueva, we are currently exploring Poverty. As we read Ruby Payne's, Framework for Understanding Poverty, we are learning about characteristics within a culture of poverty and having many "aha!" moments while comparing what we're reading with the families that we work with here on the border.

Many of our families struggle with levels of income unimaginable to some. The median annual income for our neighborhood tends to be anywhere from $15,000 to $18,000. But one thing I am learning from our studies is that money is not the only active factor in a culture of poverty. There are so many characteristics that go beyond a lack of financial resources; a lack of emotional, spiritual, physical resources and support systems fill a culture of poverty as well.

The families in our neighborhood need to be liberated from hunger, from bad immigration law, from abusive relationships, from a lack of money to pay the gas bills, from racism, from being told their stories are not legitimate, from corrupt schools...from economic, political, and social systems that continually oppress them.

But the families and youth I work with are not the only ones that need to be liberated. We all--"rich" and "poor"--need to be liberated...

...from greed.

...from selfishness.

...from ignorance.

...from despair.

...from judgement.

...from ourselves.

I love liberation theology because it forces us to first examine oppression that is actually happening; it forces us to listen to stories, to build relationships, and to fully experience reality. Solidarity is not just something we experience once and move on; as we walk in solidarity with those who are suffering--from poverty, depression, violence, etc.--we are called into a journey where oppression and brokenness might reign for now, but liberation and redemption are our Hope.

Borders and Slinkies

Wednesday night I gave a reflection about how life on the border for a middle schooler is like a slinky. The kids with whom I work are constantly going back and forth...

...moving between childhood and adulthood: that awkward time known as adolescence. Struggling with peers, school, family demands, and hormones.

...constantly switching between Spanish and English. English at school, Spanish at home, and a mixture of the two at our program. We encourage our bilingual staff and volunteers to speak English with the kids to get them more comfortable using it in conversation. We have many exchanges with me speaking English, the kid speaking Spanish, back and forth. The kids struggle with homework sometimes, and parents often cannot help with homework, because it is all in English.

...literally moving from here and there--across the border and back. All of our kids have some connection to Juarez, most have family living there. A couple of our kids actually live in Juarez and make the daily trip across the border to go to school. Other kids cannot make the trip across, even though family members can, and even though, for example, their grandpa's funeral is in Juarez. Some only get to go on special occasions. Some don't go at all anymore because of the violence.

...within their cultural identity: am I Mexican? Am I American? Do I conform to the standards of U.S. culture, or maintain the traditions of my family?

At Ciudad Nueva, we serve to build bridges--bridges between the things listed above, things happening within our kids; as well as bridges between the kids and others in the community. Between Mexican-immigrant children and white, 50-year-old, native El Pasoans; between donors who give thousands of dollars and the families making $15,000 per year; between those holding PhD's and those who are struggling to graduate high school; between the rest of the world and the border region.

My year has been full of constant back-and-forth motions from hopelessness to joy. A slinky that rarely stops moving, but that I can only hope is moving in a direction of hope and redemption rather than down the flight of stairs.

Los Nadies

by Eduardo Galeano

Sueñan las pulgas con comprarse un perro y sueñan los nadies con salir de pobres, que algún mágico día llueva de pronto la buena suerte, que llueva a cántaros la buena suerte; pero la buena suerte no llueve ayer, ni hoy, ni mañana, ni nunca, ni en lloviznita cae del cielo la buena suerte, por mucho que los nadies la llamen y aunque les pique la mano izquierda, o se levanten con el pie derecho, o empiecen el año cambiando de escoba. 
Los nadies: los hijos de nadie, los dueños de nada. 
Los nadies: los ningunos, los ninguneados, corriendo la liebre, muriendo la vida, jodidos, rejodidos: 
Que no son, aunque sean. 
Que no hablan idiomas, sino dialectos. 
Que no profesan religiones, sino supersticiones. 
Que no hacen arte, sino artesanía. 
Que no practican cultura, sino folklore. 
Que no son seres humanos, sino recursos humanos. 
Que no tienen cara, sino brazos. 
Que no tienen nombre, sino número. 
Que no figuran en la historia universal, sino en la crónica roja de la prensa local. 
Los nadies, que cuestan menos que la bala que los mata.


The Nobodies

Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escaping poverty: that, one magical day, good luck will suddenly rain down on them - will rain down in buckets.

But good luck doesn't rain down, yesterday, today, tomorrow or ever.

Good luck doesn't even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is tickling, or if they begin the new day on their right foot, or start the new year with a change of brooms.

The nobodies: nobody's children, owners of nothing.

The nobodies: the no-ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits, dying through life, screwed every which way.

Who are not, but could be.

Who don't speak languages, but dialects.

Who don't have religions, but superstitions.

Who don't create art, but handicrafts.

Who don't have culture, but folklore.

Who are not human beings, but human resources.

Who do not have faces, but arms.

Who do not have names, but numbers.

Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the crime reports of the local paper.

The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them.

Peace be yours.

We've lost five kids these past few weeks. Five kids who no longer come to our after-school program. One left the country to live with his father who recently got deported. Another is being punished for not writing "long enough" letters to her mom in jail. Another three who left the shelter in which they were living without notice.

For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

One of my best friends is a missionary in Nigeria. Last week a suicide bomb shook her town.


For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

My friend's husband is deployed in Afghanistan. He had to use his weapon for the first time in combat last week.

For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

With a tally of 80 murders in February, Juarez had the lowest homicide count since 2009.

For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

A new batch of sponsors emerged tonight.

As the lead singer from MercyMe was giving his pitch between sets for child sponsorship at the Rock and Worship Roadshow tonight, one of my 7th grade girls leaned over and started asking me questions.

"So you have to pay $30?"

"Yep, every month."

"But Miss, I only have $3. And it's taken me...*counts on fingers*...three months to get that much."

Now, this girl has a place to live, a loving mother who takes good care of her, a place to go to school, and a rockin' after-school program she attends (wink). I'm sure she's "better off" than most of the kids whose photos are on those packets that they hand out at concerts. But it was humbling to hear her honest response at the fact that:  one, she doesn't have the resources to sponsor a child even though I think the thought did cross her mind; and two, that she only averages $1 a month from her mom's pocket change while other children are receiving $30 from total strangers.

I was a child sponsor for a couple of years in college, and I think child sponsorship is a fascinating and cool idea. There are some really great organizations out there that do really awesome things for their sponsored communities. But I continue to wonder why we cling to the idea of helping out a child from a faraway place with whom we correspond through letters, when there are so many children in need next door who we might see everyday. I still wonder what my motivation was when I sponsored a child. We often fail to recognize the struggles of our coworkers, our neighbors, our family members when it is so much easier to feel bad for the "cute little Latino children"--who, in my current situation, are my immediate neighbors in need. I think detachment from a situation makes it easier on ourselves. If we are detached from a problem, but can still give our money to help resolve it, we will take advantage of the opportunity to give with a limited burden on ourselves by simply giving money. And that's ok.

But I don't see the kids in our community as those whom I give charity to; they ARE my community and I care deeply about them. I don't give them my money; I give them my time, my energy, and my love. I hope everyone who takes steps to donate their money also take steps to grow relationships with those right next to them in their immediate community as well.

Quick Trips

I drove to Las Cruces, New Mexico, twice today.

Our program encompasses the two cities of Las Cruces and El Paso, and we volunteers make the trip north to Las Cruces a couple times every month for different events. This weekend we had guests from the Urban Servant Corps experiencing the border region in both El Paso and Las Cruces, and I became a supplemental driver for myself and other volunteers. The trip is relatively short--about a 45 minute drive. For those of you in northwest Iowa, it's comparable to a trip to Sioux Falls from Rock Rapids. I remember throughout growing up taking trips to Sioux Falls on special occasions, either to shop, to eat out, or to attend a Girl Scout event. In high school the trips became more frequent, first with the hospitalization of my grandma. For over four months, my dad drove up to Sioux Falls almost everyday to visit her in the hospital. Then as I got involved in TEC (weekend high school retreats), I made a bunch of friends in Sioux Falls and would frequently travel to hang out with them. Then I ended up at Augustana for college and made many a trip to Rock Rapids for breaks, but also just when I needed something from home or for other events. Many people commute to Sioux Falls everyday for work or school. Overall, traveling to and from Sioux Falls was no big deal, just as traveling to and from Las Cruces has become not such a big deal for us El Paso volunteers this year.

Last weekend, I took a couple of young men who are involved in our community outreach to Las Cruces to earn some extra cash. (They walked around Walmart dressed as Chester the Cheeto's cheetah for four hours.) On our drive up they mentioned to me that this was their second and third time going to Las Cruces. These guys have lived in El Paso for years, and when I was their age (17-19), I was traveling in my own car (well, my parents' car that they let me use for myself) back and forth from Sioux Falls all the time. These teenage guys rarely have the opportunity to travel outside El Paso; nevertheless, visit other parts of El Paso, too. They don't have cars, they don't have driver's licenses...things that are sometimes assumed that a person has in this country (especially in smaller communities where there is no such thing as public transportation). In a community where papers, poverty, and accessibility are always an issue, one would think I would expect that teenagers aren't driving their own cars all over town or aren't in line at the DMV a few hours into their 16th birthday. But it wasn't until I reflected on my own teenage experience that I thought even more about how different life is for a teenager living in this area of El Paso.

7th Grade Theologians

I have had the most interesting conversations about church with my middle schoolers lately.

The first conversation made me wonder about the "Catholic" identity here on the border. Given that most Mexicans would label themselves as "Roman Catholic," I expected to hear more testaments to the Catholic faith than what I have heard. In fact, at our monthly meetings that include most of the Christian churches and organizations in the downtown El Paso region, perhaps the smallest represented denomination present is Catholic.

While at a store in the mall with some of our middle school girls after an afternoon of bowling, a rack of necklaces caught the eye of one of the 7th graders. She was holding a cross necklace that very much resembled a rosary--it was pretty much the teenage hip version of a string of rosary beads. I commented on how pretty it was (it was a very appealing shade of turquoise), after which she responded, "Yeah it is, Miss, but I could never wear it. I'm a Christian." I made some sort of confused comment like, "Ok...but it's a cross...?" Only for her to look at me like, duh, this is for Catholics...not Christians.

Even today after a meeting with a woman who directs a center where many migrant women can take classes such as English, parenting, etc., she was explaining how yes, encouraging the women to become Christian is important, and Bible studies are even required, but that the organization's focus is not religious. But she did make a comment about how "only 20% of our women are Christian...cus the majority of them are Catholic."

Since when was Catholicism not a part of Christianity? I don't understand. It is such a fascinating understanding...or misunderstanding...of the Catholic faith.

Another conversation I had with some other middle school girls was more humbling than confusing. Recently I have been involved in organizing community members to give input in a recently presented community development bond. We invited many mothers to a meeting where they could give input on what they hope to see in their community. A couple 6th graders asked me about this meeting that their moms were going to go to after program that day, and after hearing me explain the bond, they lost interest very quickly, haha. Jokingly and slightly interested to see if I could regain their interest in the bond issue, I asked the girls, "Well, what would you like to see in your community?" After a few expected answers like more pools, bigger zoos, fewer school days, etc., one of them said "We need less churches...there are too many around here." and commented how on every street there seemed to be a church building. "They should all just go to one church."

What a revolutionary idea! This comment led to a discussion among us about denominational differences and how I don't think everyone would be willing or happy to go to just one same church altogether. The girls couldn't understand why. Church is church, right?

Differences in belief, tradition, and practice, and having a variety of faith communities in one region is a beautiful thing. Especially in a place like El Paso where I have seen wonderful ways folks of different traditions can work together to bring about change. But oh how wonderful it would be to have an innocent faith that just cannot grasp the idea of the necessity of having so many churches. And oh how much we can learn from such a faith.

No Room at the Inn ... No Room in the country

A Christmas celebration featuring Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, Border Patrol, and a detained migrant.

Only in El Paso.

I had my first experience of celebrating the Posadas this past Christmas. Las Posadas is a commemoration of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus-in-the-womb's journey of finding a place to stay shortly before Jesus' birth.

I entered Cristo Rey (the church where we attended the posadas), expecting the same-old, same-old Christmas pageant-type performance that I was used to--cute little girls with crooked sparkly halos, voiceless shepherds who look so forlorn, and the typical proceeding of Mary and Joseph to the manger-side. Mind you, these were still elements included in the play (well, the shepherds showed a little bit of excitement for a change...), but before we cut right to the Star of the show, another story needed to be told.

I was delighted to see a few of my middle school kids up on the stage, taking roles in the play. But they were not dressed in robes or carrying staffs. Instead they were dressed in casual clothes, and sitting on a couch as though in their own living room. The scene began with a "typical" evening in the home of an El Pasoan family. The pre-teen and teenage kids were getting bored and bummed out that Mom and Dad are so busy all the time. They just want to go to church for Christmas!--is that too much to ask?! (Whatever teenager actually wants to go to church beats me.) As Mom tries to explain to them that they don't have the time, the scene cuts to the next scene, where Dad comes zooming in on a cart-made-car. Shortly behind him, though, is another "car" labeled "Police." He gets pulled over for speeding, but it doesn't take long for the policeman to recognize that this man does not have proper documentation, and with a quick phone call, we soon see the next "car" labeled "Border Patrol" zoom his way over.

Long story short, the man gets detained, his wife gets a phone call informing her of the news, and the family is worried that their father might not be able to spend Christmas with them, but perhaps more worried about the thought of being a separated family for who knows how long with the risk of him being deported.

But this story has a happy ending. The pastor of a friend's church helps the family find a lawyer, and the father is released from detention and allowed to spend Christmas with his family. Now, I wish I could say this story was entirely realistic. The parts including a simple traffic stop becoming a life-changing situation, a man being detained and separated from his family--those are the reality. Being let out of detention in time for Christmas, being able to spend the holidays worry-free--not so much reality.

I do not have much experience with detention centers, or even the process of deportation (my roommates handle those issues). But I have heard enough stories to know that it is NOT an easy process. I have friends, families I work with, neighbors, who live in constant fear. Parents won't send their kids to camp in fear of their child being stopped at a highway checkpoint. Parents won't sign their address on forms. Parents won't call the police to report abuse. All of these spur from the fear of "getting caught."

I don't care whether or not being "undocumented" is a crime... nobody should have to live in such fear.

I can't imagine how Mary and Joseph felt to be rejected as a guest at the inn, how difficult to make a journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem must have been for Mary, a very expectant mother, or even the shame this unwed, pregnant teenager and her caring but confused Joseph must have experienced. But I can imagine those feelings of rejection, fear, and shame filling the lives and minds of the many people struggling to find a place to call "home," a place to be accepted--those crossing borders in search of a "better life." The reality of those we call "undocumented," "illegal," "alien" could be comparable to a wandering couple, looking for a safe place to deliver Hope.

Litany of Non-Violence / Letanía de No-violencia

Provident God, aware of our own brokenness, we ask the gift of courage to identify how and where we are in need of conversion in order to live in solidarity with all Earth's people.


Deliver us from the violence of superiority and disdain. Grant us the desire, and the humility, to listen with special care to those whose experiences and attitudes are different from our own.


Deliver us from the violence of greed and privilege. Grant us the desire, and the will, to live simply so others may have their just share of Earth's resources.


Deliver us from the silence that gives consent to abuse, war and evil. Grant us the desire, and the courage, to risk speaking and acting for the common good.


Deliver us from the violence of irreverence, exploitation and control. Grant us the desire, and the strength, to act responsibly within the cycle of creation.


God of love, mercy and justice, acknowledging our complicity in those attitudes, action and words which perpetuate violence, we beg the grace of non-violent hearts. Amen.

Dios de la Providencia, consciente de mi debilidad,
pido el don de la valentía para poder identificar
cómo y dónde convertirme a fin de vivir
en solidaridad con la tierra y con toda la creación.

Líbrame de la violencia de superioridad y desprecio.
Concédeme el deseo, y la humildad, para escuchar
con esmero especial a aquellos cuyas experiencias
y actitudes son diferentes de las mías.

Líbrame de la violencia de la codicia y el privilegio.
Concédeme el deseo, y la voluntad, para vivir
simplemente para que otros tengan lo justo
de los recursos de la tierra.

Líbrame del silencio que da consentimiento
al abuso, guerra y maldad.
Concédeme el deseo, y el valor, para arriesgarme
con palabra y obra para el bien común.

Líbrame de la violencia de irreverencia,
explotación y control. 

Concédeme el deseo, y la fuerza, para actuar
con respeto hacia la creación.

Dios amoroso, misericordioso y justo,
reconociendo mi complicidad en estas actitudes,
acciones y palabras que perpetúan violencia,
ruego la gracia de un corazón no-violento. Amén.

(http://www.spsmw.org/peace-justice/resources/prayers-for-peace-and-justice/litany-of-non-violence.aspx)

You're the God of this City?

Ciudad Juarez-El Paso

"I really hope no one is trying to cross tonight."


My roommates and I look out our front window, astonished at the lightly sprinkled sidewalks of white, reminding us that snow is, indeed, possible in El Paso. It's a chilly, cloudy evening--the beginning of a cold spell of which many people are probably not prepared for. Especially those attempting to find a way to cross the international border from Murder City to Sun City.



Although the majority of my time I do not even think about the fact that I am living minutes away from a city with an average of 5-8 murders a day, it is still a reality. No matter how much I think about the extreme corruption or consider what can be done or listen to a heartbreaking story of loss or look out over the vast city; nothing fights the reality that lives are being lost in the most inhumane ways, for the most unjust reasons, and in the most extreme numbers.

"On the last day of June, bees attack seven people. On the last day of June, a fifty-four-year-old woman pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store after withdrawing eleven thousand pesos from a bank (found on the body) and is shot dead with ten rounds. On the last day of June, a man says his wife and children are missing. On the last day of June, the total number of murders for the month hits 139, and the total for the year reaches 541. Or 543, depending on which paper one reads. The numbers blur now. No one knows how many people have been snatched, nor what became of them. Just as no one knows where to file the corpses from the two houses of death. ... The city is fiestas, dust, cantinas, discos, and people savoring the weekends and dreaming of the nights when love will find them. There is song in the air. The culture of death becomes a life. The slaughtered die fast, the rest grind out time in dust, poverty, and bouts of terror. Only six months ago, everyone was horrified when forty people were slaughtered in one month. Now a hundred a month seems acceptable because in the culture of death. . .life goes on." (Murder City by Charles Bowden)

Welcome to the reality of Ciudad Juarez.


Now, I admit I haven't even visited the city across the border, and I get my information from stories (including the stories in Murder City that I just finished reading). But every story is a bit of reality that I do not understand nor know next to anything about. All I know is that these stories are stories of people--of his fear, of her abuse, of their grief. But among these sad stories, sometimes stories of hope arise.


Recently I have been obsessed with the song "God of this City" (originally recorded by Bluetree). I think this obsession comes from a realization that my perception of the song's lyrics--as well as my perception of God--will never be the same now that I have lived across from a city that seems to live in the midst of so much evil, ungodliness, despair--whatever you want to call it.


You're the God of this city,
You're the King of these people,
You're the Lord of this nation,
You are.


You're the Light of this darkness,
You're the Hope to the hopeless,
You're the Peace to the restless,
You are.


When eight lives are being lost every twenty-four hours, how can one still hold the belief that God is present in Ciudad Juarez? In a city with so much darkness, hopelessness, and restlessness, where do we find this God?


I appreciate this song because it captures the huge extent of who our God is. God is not some external being that does not give a shit about what is happening to the people of Juarez; God is revealed in the situations where light, hope, and peace overcome. "Yes, God is real, intensely real, for me, but God is not a being--external, supernatural, or theistic--to whom I seek access. God is rather a presence discovered in the very depths of my life, in the capacity to live, in the ability to love, and in the courage to be." (John Shelby Spong)  I cannot explain why God would allow so much violence and corruption to happen, or so many lives to be lost--if I could explain, well, then I'd be God. But from what I know and what I've experienced, I have at least discovered that the God I believe in is a God who brings about life in situations of death. And in Murder City, death surrounds everyone and everything. Although life overcoming death might be rare, it is not impossible.


If we want to live lives that reflect the Divine, then we will join God in the quest for Redemption. I don't know how to end the violence in Juarez, and I have had conversations about how hopeless the situation seems to be. The culture of the city is death. The police, the government, the army--all are corrupt. Hardly ever can you find someone in power who is not part of the corruption. So what will happen? Will everyone flee? I doubt it, considering the very low numbers of migrants who receive the "pass" to actually be in the states legally. Will the murders continue happening--decrease, increase? Will hope be restored?


For there is no one like our God.
There is no one like you, God.


We cannot answer these questions. But we can still live out Redemption in our own way. Even though the work that I do--hanging out with middle schoolers, attempting to give them meaning, hope, and joy--will not bring about Redemption for the world, or even for Juarez, I can still allow the Divine to work through me and bring some sort of strength, love, and joy within my own reality and the realities of the people I am in relationship with.


I still have hope for this city. Even if its problems are far too big for me to comprehend. And even if my hope is too impractical to explain.


Greater things have yet to come,
And greater things are still to be done in this city.
Greater things are yet to come, 
And greater things are still to be done here.

El Paso-Juarez