Hierarchy of Heroism

This morning a friend of mine made the comment about Oprah "What an amazing person. When it is all said and done, hopefully decades from now, Oprah will go down as one of the greatest people of all time. Like Gandhi and Mother Teresa."

I will be the first to say that I love Oprah....but I have some issues with this comparison. Oprah has done many, many wonderful things so far. She does wonderful charities (hands on even). However, Mother Teresa and Gandhi carried out lives of sacrifice. This comparison makes it difficult to ignore Oprah's posh lifestyle.

For example, there is a story about Momma T in Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution: "Mother Teresa was one of those people who sacrificed great privilege because she encountered such great need...But there is one thing I will never forget-her feet. Her feet were deformed. Each morning in Mass, I would stare at them. I wondered if she had contracted leprosy. But I wasn't going to ask, of course. "Hey mother, what's wrong with your feet?" One day a sister said to us, "have you noticed her feet?" We nodded, curious. She said, "Her feet are deformed because we get just enough donated shoes for everyone, and Mother does not anyone to get stuck with the worst pair, so she digs through and finds them. And years of doing that have deformed her feet."

That is one of my favorite stories. It is a perfect example of sacrificial living...and while Oprah is amazing...I think she is wearing the wrong shoes to be put on Momma T and Gandhi status.

There are different levels of heroism in the world. Like a pyramid, there are so many little acts on the bottom, that maybe inspire people to do a little more. The "awareness" part of activism. Getting the word out. It's what most people do. Then there are people that are on a higher level who write the checks and donate to charities and organizations because they are now aware. Without this support, many organizations could not go on. Then there is a group who goes beyond writing checks and puts their TIME and money into organizations. This is where I would put Oprah. However, the top of the pyramid is the smallest part. There are very few people who reach this status. These would be the people who give it their ALL. Living a life of sacrifice. Making their cause something worth dying for.

Momma T, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., the freedom riders all belong at the top of the pyramid. People who have given up physical comforts and joined the poor. There is a quote, "When I fed the poor, they called me a saint. When I asked why the poor were hungry, they called me a communist." Oprah is wonderful. She's a saint. I do not, however, believe, she has joined the poor.

I think that there is danger in comparing Oprah to people who have carried out a life of sacrifice. If we put her at this status, then we are in danger of lowering our standards of heroism for future generations. If we keep getting rid of the top of the pyramid, then we run the risk of reducing activism to simple awareness.

It reminds me of the story in Mark 12:41-44 which states, "Jesus sat

down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. THEY ALL GAVE OUT OF THEIR WEALTH; BUT SHE, OUT OF HER POVERTY, PUT IN EVERYTHING-ALL SHE HAD TO LIVE ON."

Especially in the flashy world that we live in, it is hard to look past all of those people who are sparing SOME of their wealth to see the true value of sacrifice.

Less is more

Less is more

A couple of weeks ago I was talking with the Vice Principle of the school about a presentation that we had in March. “Invisible Children” came and discussed the situation in Uganda…talking about child soldiers and how these people have nothing and see education as a way out. Then we started talking about the lower level kids in the school…and the kids who have nothing. And how they were the ones that were most impacted…We made this observation and then parted ways to complete all of the tasks that come with final exams.

It was an interesting conversation…but not one that I was able to give much thought to…until another situation occurred.

I was sitting in another teacher’s intensive reading class…and a student came up to me with an envelope. She said that she collected it for “Invisible Children.” She wrote “$20” on the front. I added it to the money that my students collected earlier in the year and made the donation. $156.13 overall.

I didn’t notice the note. A few days later, Bubbles looked in the envelope ( I don’t know why I didn’t throw it away…it was “empty”) and pulled out a note.

It read:
“This money goes to the invisible children I wish I could do more but I can’t I hope this helps. Since they came to talk to us I was so inspired. I want to do so much more. If I can help please let me know.”

In addition to the conversation that I had with the VP earlier…that note really hit home. To many, it would look like only $20…but this student handed me that envelope with pride…because she did all that she could do. Her heart was in it. I loved that.

Then there was a newspaper article that came out about another student of mine.

“Last year, Tim Sharp finished his shift as a dishwasher at KFC and went over in his head how much money he had left after paying his bills. It wasn't much.
Stepping outside, he saw a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. Sharp reached into his pocket, pulled out a few dollars and dropped them by the man, who woke up.
Most would think that Sharp has had a hard life, yet he just shakes it off. To him, giving to other people is a big part of what his life is.
He plans to major in sociology to continue the legacy that his mother, LouAnn Usina, created in Hastings before she died last year from cancer.
"I am who I am today because of her," Sharp said. "She made me see who I should be."
In high school, Sharp watched his mother head the OUR community program, where she gave food, clothes and support to as many as 5,000 people, mostly at her own expense.
Sharp already has picked up where Usina left off last year. Sharp's Take Stock in Children mentor, Tommy Lescroart, said Sharp's gas tank runs dry from giving rides to friends of friends.
Sharp was the kid who spent the few dollars in his pocket to buy cheese sticks for the student bullied in the lunchroom.
Since his mother's death, Sharp has worked three different jobs to support himself and prepare for college on his own.
Most recently he has worked at the St. Johns Housing Partnership, where he refurbishes houses for the under-privileged.
"I want to prove to people instead of show them," Sharp said. "You can do a lot with your life instead of complain about what you don't have."

For the full article go to:
http://staugustine.com/news/local-news/2010-06-01/graduate-menendez-succeeds-against-adversity

These accounts personify a story that I had heard many times before in church:

Mark 12 “41Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins,[j]worth only a fraction of a penny.[k]
43Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."

This story finally makes so much sense! It’s actually mind-blowing.

People who have nothing-what can they give? Surprisingly, everything. They give all that they can…their whole heart goes into their contribution, and at the end of the day…they know that they gave it their all.

I look up to these people who have nothing. I know that when I am beaten down…and when I feel like I have nothing to offer…I can change my perspective, because when I give my all, then I have everything to offer.

Why we should help Haiti (insert Africa here)

So today we were discussing social issues in my English classes. During this conversation, the crisis in Haiti was brought up. One of my students asked (without malice) why we (the U.S.) should help when there are so many hurting here. It made for a healthy class discussion. It got me thinking. Now, before I continue writing this (and more importantly before you continue reading this!)I start with a disclaimer: I would never discourage people from helping those who are hurting on their doorstep. One thing that we must realize though, is that everyone is different…which means that everyone is going to be passionate about a different cause. Whether it is right outside your door or world’s apart. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think it is quite beautiful…If we all felt compelled to contribute to one area of the world, then the rest would not know compassion….the rest would fall apart.

To answer my student’s question in a P.C. manner…it is essential that we help out in our community. However, that begs the question: what is community? Especially in this technological age. According to Mark Wrathall, a contributor to U2 and Pop Philosophy, “As economies and societies become intertwined through the technologization and globalization of world culture, a sense of…responsibility for the poverty and suffering of far distant people increases…There is a sense in which our responsibility grows along with the globalization of the economy.” I, personally, find this to be true. As technology and global relations become more aligned between cultures, I find the gap to be closing. So where does that leave community? In my definition, everywhere.

Yes, I feel that the people that are hurting in Haiti are a part of our community. Yes, I feel that we should help those in our community. While many feel that it is against human nature to help those that we do not know, I think that one of the BEST things about human nature is that we can and do help those we do not know.

This last part I could not bring up in a class setting …but I believe these two stories best illustrate this extraordinary part of human nature…they are a couple of my favorite stories. Not that I am going to drag too much religion into this thought…but one of these stories is located in the bible. It is a short one: “Jesus wept.” These two words have different theories, which is cool. Some say that Jesus wept because he was sad that his friend (Lazarus) died. Others say that he wept because he was saddened by the lack of faith around him (people not believing that he would provide a miracle). Yet another group says that he wept at the sight of everyone’s pain. That he felt their pain. This last theory happens to be my favorite.

The second story is told by Shane Claiborne, who went to work with Momma T (Mother Theresa) in Calcutta. He says, “One of the beggars in Calcutta approached me one day, and I had no money on me, but I felt a piece of gum in my pocket, so I handed it to her. I have no idea how long it had been since she had chewed gum, or if she had ever even had the chance. She looked at it and smiled with delight. Then she tore it into three pieces and handed one to me and one to my friend so we could share the excitement.”

While these two stories are exploring the two different emotions of joy and pain, they are so related. The idea that we are connected by our emotion. The idea that as humans LIVING IN COMMUNITY, their joy should be our joy. Their pain should be our pain. We should want to help those in our community because it should hurt to see them hurt. That, in my opinion, is why we should be included in the gift that is cross-cultural community. Otherwise, we miss on the chance to see something so beautiful and so human.

The history of the bag...

I am going to go ahead and post some of my old journals from other trips that I have taken. This one is an exerpt from my journal "Starved to Death in a Land of Plenty."


Starved to Death in a Land of Plenty (Part 2 The Experience)

"This weekend will not be a comfortable or ordinary conference- it is a learning experience. We will learn, reflect, repent, serve, and live together within the inner city neighborhood of Ybor Heights" [in Tampa, FL]. This is the information that I was given before I decided to go with some friends to Tampa to live homeless for a few days.

Day 1

Before the trip started I was outside of my comfort zone for numerous reasons. First of all, my family and I had just started this specific diet three weeks before and there was no way that I would be able to adhere to that. It was selfish to worry about that while people were starving, but it was a concern that I had. Then, I had to pack 2 days of clothes. The only problem was, my shorts were too short and jeans were too hot. So, I grabbed Aaron for support and headed to Wal-Mart 45 minutes before take-off. After buying these last minute "necessities," I threw my supplies in my trusty messenger bag and hastily took off twenty minutes late, without lunch. However, the real discomfort (which was so obvious to me) was the "minimal toiletries" requirement. This meant no make-up…Luckily; I had the comfort of Photoshop waiting for me when I got back, so I was able to let this unsettling fact slide.

I was a little nervous about the ride to Tampa because while I liked everyone going, no one knew each other too well. How were we going to endure a 3 ½ hour trip? Fortunately, our common goal, among other things, was able to carry on a conversation and it made the ride very enjoyable. Since I hadn't had lunch, we decided to have a last meal before venturing out onto the streets. We all agreed that the only place that held "last meal quality food" was Chic-Fil-A. As we pulled out of the restaurant, excited to have sweet tea and chicken, we were greeted by clouds. A lot of them. Really dark ones. It rained so hard at one point that cars were pulling off the road onto the shoulder. We pressed on hoping aloud that the weather would be better in Tampa. That's when Amberly received a text message from Ryan "forecast of rain all weekend."

During registration, we signed quite a few waivers and emergency contact forms. Why so many waivers? Weren't we sleeping in a designated area with police protecting us? I would soon find out that the answer is 'no.' Then we were served a plate of black beans and rice-our first homeless meal. There was a note on the plate that read:

The meals you will eat at this conference are meant to reflect what many outside of the US eat on a daily basis. Most eat even less. In developing countries nearly 16 million children die every year from preventable and treatable causes. Sixty percent of these deaths are from hunger and malnutrition.

After this we parked at the conference center. Before the conference started, I saw Krissy, who is an excellent friend of mine who is pursuing ministry in Tampa. We listened to Brian speak on Luke 18 which related to Jesus, the poor, and justice (it was very good, and I will include it in a separate journal because this could get too long). By the end of the meeting, I was starving. I was tempted to walk back to Krissy's house and raid her kitchen, but instead I gathered up everything I owned for the weekend and started my trek to the underground Community center (maybe ½ a mile away?). My group and I planned ..ping some weight off at the community center (C. C.) and walking to Krissy's, but we had to be back by 11:00 and we wouldn't be fast enough on foot. I was not used to not being able to do something I wanted because I didn't have the capability to get there. Instead, we called Krissy to see if she could come to the C.C., but she didn't have a car. So we walked to the park across the street, I claimed a bench to lie on and called my parents. No answer. Then I remembered that my good friend Aaron would love the Luke 18 message so I pulled out my bible and gave him a call. Our conversation was interrupted so I hung up. As soon as I hung up a very skittish, wild-eyed homeless man who smelled of mint and alcohol stood in front of my bench.

He said something, but his voice was very hoarse and very quiet. (It was a conversational match made in heaven-him with me the deaf girl). He said something and I leaned forward so that I can hear, "I'm sorry?" As soon as I leaned forward he jumped back and his wild eyes got even wider. I started to get nervous I thought, 'great, here's where my life ends…on a park bench.' He looked at the bench again. I asked, "Would you like to sit down?"

He jumped again. "Don't yell at me!"

"I'm not yelling…here have a seat." I moved over. He seemed surprised that I didn't just leave. He sat down; we introduced ourselves (his name is Eddie) and tried to spell my name many times. Then he started to ask about my family and where I went to school. Then he tried to spell my name again. Then he started talking about drinking. He asked if I was going to judge him and I told him that it wasn't my place to judge. Then he said that Romans said something like that. When I pulled out my bible, he got very excited and asked me to look up one verse after another. Between each verse, he would make hand motions and look out into space, then ask for the next one. A few verses later, Ryan came up to see how things were going and inform me that we had to meet inside for instructions. Eddie looked disappointed. "Well, before we go can we pray with you?"

He looked excited, "Oh! Yes."

"Okay, well I'll open and Ryan, can you close?" Eddie asked if he could pray too. We agreed to that.

Ryan held out his hands, "Would you like to join hands?"

Eddie looked a little nervous again, "I don't usually…" He took our hands, and we prayed.

When we were done, Eddie looked at us asked how long we were there for. Ryan said Sunday, and Eddie started to count on his fingers how many days that would be. "That would be…don't tell me!" Then he asked if we could meet tomorrow and he would be there at anytime. Ryan suggested 4:00 and we went to experience our first night's sleep.

My first night in the community center was crowded. I found a spot in a dark corner and spread out my stuff so no one else could claim "my spot." I was surprisingly territorial. Then I snuck away and found an old dirty sink to brush my teeth and wash my face. Once my secret was out, there was a line for that.

Day 2

When we woke up we had to wait in a very long line for the 1 bathroom available (there were 120 people). We had to be at breakfast at a certain time or we would not be able to make our lunch and we would go hungry until dinner. We met in the Big Conference Center (B.C. C.) and had an extravagant breakfast of 2 boiled eggs and 2 pieces of bread before making our 2 P.B. and J's.

We were split up into 15 groups. Each group had a "homeless guide." (What was interesting to me was, this church (the underground) was so involved in the homeless community that they had enough homeless people willing to participate in this event. The church leader knew each homeless guide's story, and called them friend.) Anyways, our mentor's name was Charles. Charles was a black man who had been in and out of jail, had drug problems, and lived a gay lifestyle. Charles was also educated. We walked around Nebraska Avenue. Where we were met by many homeless who knew Charles. They said thank you for coming and seemed more eager to share their stories than to receive our money.

Charles showed us that every overpass had a camp. He showed us the porch that a man he knew was beaten to death on. He showed us abandoned buildings that could be used for shelters but aren't. He explained that many houses had green stickers, and if they were found on the porch of that abandoned house, they could be arrested. We walked around from 10:00-3:30. My bag was 30 pounds. My collar bone started to get bruised from the weight. I never thought about how painful carrying around your belongings could be. Charles said that people carried them everywhere because if you tried to hide it, your stuff would probably be stolen.

We stopped to have lunch in the metro center. The metro center was housing, job placement, food pantry, thrift store, and food assistance (stamps). A group of churches from the community opened it. It was huge. It housed at least 50 communities. It made me sad for the churches in St. Augustine. We have a known homeless community. Why is the St. Francis house (holds 28) the only shelter? I thought of the old buildings downtown. Why not, as Charles said, use those for shelters?

One thing that stood out to me as we were walking around this area was the playground. It was the playground that I was sitting at on my first night. It had better equipment than the playgrounds I had seen in St. Augustine, yet here it was Saturday afternoon and not one kid was on that playground. Just syringes and condoms. While we were at this park Charles explained to us that most of the trees had to be cut down because there was so much prostitution and drug dealings on this playground. It made it easier for the police to see when they drove by.

Later that day, we saw Eddie in the C.C., we didn't get to have another conversation, but we said 'hi.' I saw him hanging around our conference all weekend. He was talking to multiple people and waving every time he saw a group from J.J.P. pass. He seemed a lot calmer than the first night that I had met him.

That night we went on a "Justice Tour." They had set up a room in the B.C. C. to have pictures, information and statistics. The room was lined with children's shoes. We found out there were 114 pairs. 114 for the number of children (as young as 5 years old) entering forced prostitution each hour. We saw that 20% of the world is using 86% of the world's resources.

During his talk that night Brian told us that he had a sponsored child in Haiti for $24 a month. He went and he got to meet her. Brian said that there were 3 types of houses; concrete with a floor and roof, walls with a thatched roof and floor, and thatched walls and roof with no floor. When he visited his child, her and her grateful family all came out excitedly to meet him. He looked past the family and saw that they had no floor and a thatched roof. He felt like such an idiot thinking that he could feel justified by giving $24 a month. With the little that I do, I felt like an idiot too.

Night 2-Sleeping Outside

That night, we met at 10:30 to get instructions. We were sleeping outside. I had originally thought that we would be in a designated area with police protection. Wrong. One of the first things that they told us was that we had to be quiet or the cops would come. And to call them if we got arrested. We were also asked to not mention the conference if questioned by the cops. Great. I wasn't worried because we were sleeping in groups, but now I didn't want to get arrested. We quietly walked to a field with grass about shin high. They told us to sleep in the bushes among the fence and to set up quickly so that cars passing wouldn't call the cops. We set up and tried to get some sleep. The problem was, it started to rain. If I hid in my sleeping bag I would get too hot and sweaty, so I would come out of the bag for a while and rain would seep into my eyelids. My pillow became wet so I tried to cover it with my sleeping bag. Then there was banging in the background. What was that…fireworks? Someone kicking a dumpster. It kept me up for a while. Just as I started to fall asleep it started to rain harder. We packed up our stuff and walked to a house that was for sale. No one was there, so we all set up on the front porch. Ryan and I were not behind the rail so we were exposed to the busy street in the front of this house.

Now I was worried about the police seeing us. I closed my eyes but every time I heard a car slow down, I would wake up. I would worry that it was a cop coming to move us back in the rain, or worse take us to jail for trespassing or breaking and entering. The door to the house was open so I tucked my bag and shoes next to me right inside the doorway to this house. I woke up a few times wondering, 'what if someone is in the house and they take my stuff? What if someone steps over me and takes my stuff?' Then we would hear multiple arguments walking down our street. I would worry that they would come and mess with us or call the police on us. Another time I woke up because my hip felt so bruised and sore from being on the wooden porch so I had to turn to the other side (not an easy task in a wet sleeping bag). Finally, with the help of over the counter sleep-aids, I was able to get some sleep.

Day 3

I was talking to Amberly about our experience sleeping outside. I endured the rain in the lot. She and Chase slept in a pavilion in a park. However, a woman saw her group and the police told them they had to move. She was scared of the police too. It was the strangest feeling to be afraid of police officers like that. Something I never would be able to relate to if we were sleeping knowing that they were on our side. Now I know why we had to sign multiple waivers. It was not safe. Still, we agreed that our fears and discomforts were mitigated by the fact that we could sleep in a bed tonight. We learned that most homeless people are not alcoholics before they are on the streets, but they start drinking heavily to fall asleep. Then they get addicted. It's a vicious cycle. Many of us know why they drink to pass out. It's not easy to fall asleep and deal with the nighttime out there. We were all pretty quick to take our Benadryl.

Today was the day that we got showers. Different groups went to different houses of pastors to use showers and eat breakfast. After eating eggs and three pieces of grape jelly toast with some coffee, I got a shower. Then we learned about these pastors and their houses. They built so many extra rooms in their houses for families trying to make ends meet. They all share very low bills and chores, but they have people living with them and their families. They have become very creative with space. Their 2-car garage has become bedrooms. Not only do they help the poor at church, and know the oppressed on the streets, and call them friend, but they open their homes to them. They really took what Jesus did seriously. Jesus lived and walked alongside the poor, and these pastors live and walk alongside the poor. No suburban living for them. Pastor Brian, has a community of almost 14 (his wife is pregnant) living in his one house in the downtown Tampa area. If you can read about it, I BEG you to read this article about them:

http://tampabay.com/features/humaninterest/article635737.ece

Then we went to the church service. Krissy goes to this church, and I am extremely jealous. Over 60% of the collection goes to the poor. The church doesn't even have their own building but holds services at the Hillsborough Community College theater which they rent for the morning.

The article that was written about the pastor explains that:

"This church is his shot at something better — a racially diverse group in their 20s and 30s, electric guitars and a drummer, dancing and worship. They disperse into 20 smaller groups during the week to serve different missions, from home Bible studies to after-school programs.

Underground has an annual $130,000 budget from members' offerings. Sanders says 60 percent goes to external programs for the poor; the rest pays administrative costs. He says he raises funds separately for his $24,000 salary."

This is true inspiration to me. What a church should really be about. Jesus asks for it all. He asks for discomfort. If we are comfortable in our lives, in our church services we should be asking ourselves why.

Post-Experience

I am now sitting at my job, in a library with air-conditioning, after sleeping all night in a bed. I am still tired. My hips hurt from sleeping on that porch. My shoulders and back hurt from carrying my possessions around all weekend. I am tired from losing sleep over fear, loneliness, and worry. I type out this experience to share with you because it has opened my eyes. My spirit was starving because I have been comfortable for too long. My eyes have been opened and my heart is breaking. I hope that my experience will open your eyes too, and hopefully, we won't ignore it. I will no longer ignore, but I will act. I have found God's heart this weekend and it is broken. I am desperate to fix it. I hope that you will join me in action by saying that you too will mend what has been broken for too long.