facing injustice. and our part in it.

last week, i finished reading the book "three cups of tea," a pretty incredible book written by greg mortenson about his journey building schools, particularly for girls, in pakistan and afghanistan. his commitment to empowering communities and pursuing peace not through weapons but through education is inspiring. but one of the things that stuck out most to me from the book (not surprisingly considering my vast ignorance about the rise of the taliban and issues in the middle east in general), is that the u.s. has perpetuated the problem of terrorism by giving money to corrupt leaders in order to "fight communism," and by failing to follow through on our promises of aid. this promised aid could provide real education and options for the people of afghanistan and pakistan instead of making them reliant on the multitude of wahhabi madrassas, schools of extremist islam who often are the only option for education for the poorest students. according to mortenson's conversation with the afghani minister of finance, less than a quarter of the aid money promised by president bush ever made it to afghanistan, and of those insufficient funds that did make it to afghanistan, hundreds of millions of dollars were taken to build runways and stock depots that everyone knew would be used for the u.s. military when the invasion of iraq came. no wonder america stirs so much hatred in this part of the world and extremism continues to thrive.

tonight, emily and i went to see a documentary called "return to el salvador", a film about life after the horrific civil war in el salvador. again, although the images of the violence that occurred during the war are themselves disturbing, perhaps more disturbing is the fact that the u.s. was pouring up to a million dollars a day into the salvadoran government and military, which was in turn slaughtering its own people, in the name of fighting communism and extremism. and of the military leaders who were found to have committed human rights violations during the war, all of them had been trained at fort benning, georgia, known formerly as the school of the americas, which has trained a multitude of military leaders and dictators in tactics leading to torture, massacre, and other atrocities in many countries in latin america. and if this isn't enough, the u.s. continues to contribute to injustice and violence in el salvador by sponsoring the central american free trade agreement (CAFTA), which robs countries like el salvador of their rights to their own land. currently, the canadian company pacific rim is using CAFTA to sue the salvadoran government for millions of dollars for rejecting their gold mining proposal, which would rob the people of their land and damage the earth, the water sources, and the well-being of many communities.

in our own country, we also perpetuate injustice. we are destroying our environment by our insatiable addiction to oil, shown by the BP oil leak in the gulf. pointing fingers at BP officials or regulatory agencies may help us feel better, but until we acknowledge our own participation and guilt in this disaster through our overconsumption of energy and oil, our environment will continue to suffer. and closer to home, last sunday, joseph's house celebrated its 20th anniversary by reading the names of all those who have died at the house since david hilfiker and his family moved in with several HIV+ men in 1990. there were over 280 names on that list. 280 people with families, feelings, pain, life, and now death. and over 80 of those men and women have died at the house since i first began working there almost three years ago. this is not a result of individual bad choices or lack of responsible living - this is a result of injustice, of racism, of a failing health care system, of a lack of affordable housing and mental health services and subsequent rise of homelessness, of a lack of compassion and a whole lot of fear and greed.

i don't pretend to be an expert on any of these areas. i also don't see any point in just being a debbie downer, and i know how easy it is to become paralyzed in the face of so much injustice. but i do see value in raising awareness and a righteous anger, a holy indignation, at the fact that we and our government are not only ignorant of but also causes of perpetuated violence and injustice around the world. these stories need to be told, and from there, we must each find out how we can use our own unique gifts, experiences, and passions to fight for justice and peace in the world. i know that i have too often used "i don't know" or "i don't care" to enjoy my happy, privileged, isolated existence. let's stop ignoring, stop pleading overwhelm, and start facing our own participation and need for action. let's keep marching and singing. we shall overcome someday. i hope and pray that we can all be stirred to continued action, to sustained compassion for those around us who may not look like us or speak like us but who are all children of God.

freedom to sing.

a man who had been at joseph's house for about a month and a half began to really decline at the end of last week, or actively die as we call it. his breathing shifted, he stopped responding, he was unable to eat or drink. a man who was able to come to us to spend his final days instead of returning to prison, he was both lovely and hard to work with. he loved holding hands and the simple joy of sitting and sharing a meal together. but he was also in a lot of pain and had experienced a lot of trauma, and so even a small thing like changing his pamper sometimes took an hour and a half. he taught me a lot about patience and love, and i am so grateful for his friendship. one time as we were changing him, i asked him to give me a hug, as that was an easier way to turn him on his side. he looked up at me, smiled, and gave me a huge hug, which was so beautiful. then i said, "ok, time to turn." "what??!" he replied, surprised, "you tricked me!" i thought he may get angry, but he just started to laugh, until we were all laughing. another time, he asked what he thought people would think if we could walk down the street together, a black man and a white girl. i told him i didn't care, and that it would be nice. he told me he wished we could have been friends in high school. that would have been great, i replied. we've both been on such different paths, but what a gift to share friendship in this moment.

as i sat with him on monday night, alone in the house, i felt the sacredness and the beauty of that moment, and i felt suddenly completely free to be with him however felt right to both him and me. i typically sit at the bedside in silence, knowing that even silent presence can be meaningful. but because i knew my friend and felt comfortable in myself, i felt free to use my voice in being with him. i knew he was a man of great faith, and so i just started singing to him whatever hymns came to mind. after half an hour of singing by myself, i picked up his bible and read some of his and my favorite passages out loud. just about half an hour after this, my friend took his last breath. i was able to bathe him with patty, playing "i believe i can fly" softly as we opened a window and lit a candle. i felt sad and grateful. i don't know when i'd felt so comfortable and free to be me and be with another for a long time. i received such a gift in that, and i pray he felt comfort and love in those last moments as well.

i realize that sitting at the bedside with another is a rare experience for most of us and is clearly a privileged, sacred moment. but what would it look like if i felt that freedom in all my interactions with others, to be fully myself and fully open to the other person, wherever they are coming from? what if i felt that comfort to sing, to affirm, to speak or to be silent, in all my relationships? i think that i and we sometimes spend so much time worrying about how others perceive us or will perceive us that we lose the freedom to be fully ourselves and fully present to others. and as i learn more and more fully the truth that i am beloved and precious as i am, and that we are all beloved and precious, i believe that this freedom to be will flow more fully. i want to live more in this freedom, this freedom to sing, whoever i'm with and wherever i am.