Hurricane Donald

It was bedtime for the children, and we were listening to the radio. There was a great hurricane coming, they said. A raging, devastating, and powerful storm.

The storm moved slowly and deliberately toward the shore of our country. No one really believed it would land. All the technology and measurements had predicted that it would pass by and die out at sea.

The storm landed. The storm moved inland. The storm raged. 

The city politicians had given fair warning and an easy exit for the upper-middle class and wealthy voters to leave quickly. Most of these people found a place for themselves -- in their comfortable summer homes, in well furnished guest bedrooms of family or friends, and in fancy hotels. Each had a safe place to watch the storm unfold on their screens. 

The poor and the homeless were hit first. They were hit hard. The disabled and those living on the margins of cities were abandoned. In the high winds, children were ripped from the arms of their parents. 

Here in the midwest, a safe distance away, there were two news stations covering the events, and one radio station which broadcast the impact of the storm in 20-second sound bites. These news sources had an unearthly power to numb hearts and minds into an impenetrable indifference. People were hypnotized by news of the storm as they stared at their screens with eyes that could not see. They listened with ears that could not hear. They sat in front of these glowing screens, in comfortable armchairs, like theater chairs with cup holders. They were strangely paralyzed by the real-time images and could not move. 

The first of the two news stations had access to the devastation from just outside of the hurricane. Looking from the outside in, one could see images of looming, dark rain clouds and an ominous spiral of wind and water. Debris as big as cars and boats floated up like autumn leaves in a violent swirl of wind. The news anchors interviewed those who had just narrowly escaped from the storm. As their hair whipped wildly, one could see desperation and pleading. They cried out helplessly to the world. Help the ones left behind. Help the ones we love. The news anchors nodded at these words with pity stretched across their faces.

The second of the two news stations recorded the events from within the eye of the hurricane. There, in the eye of the storm, were blue skies and calm air--eerily calm air. These news anchors shared their perspectives of the raging storm around them, articulating only one message clearly: the law of nature reigns supreme. Blame, defensiveness, and hoarding were only side effects of this immutable law. In this eerily calm center of such a powerful storm, one could virtually watch them gather as much wealth and resources from the debris as they could. They did not fear the storm, but tried to move along with it, according to the laws of nature. They had only one great fear, that “those people out there” might bring their devastation from the outside in. 

It seemed so safe and prosperous in the eye of the storm. We wondered why there was no compassion there. We wondered why there was no generosity. Yet, we started to realize, in a strange inversion of place---that a great storm raged within the very hearts of those standing under the calm blue skies and eerie air. On the screen, you could barely see it. But, if you looked closely enough, you could see under perfectly placed hair and pearly white teeth, there existed a dark and self-serving rage. 

Likewise, through this strange inversion of time and place, in the hearts of those being battered by the storm, there was a light. It was a powerful light flickering like a candle in the dark. This flickering light existed in the very souls of those who had lost and were losing everything. They alone knew what it meant to love someone other than themselves. In their battered hearts came a new thing on earth. It was the most ancient of things. It was the beginning and the end of all things. It was love. 

Meanwhile, the radio waves brought their voices--all the voices--to the farthest corners of the earth. These radio waves did not bring hypnotizing images on screens, but rather just words and stories. 

It’s bedtime. We shouldn’t go to sleep. But, only the children know how to discern the good from the evil, and only we can protect them from the storm. The storm is raging out there; the storm is raging in here. Let’s tell them a bedtime story, and hope the children sleep.

Care for the Vulnerable is Knowledge of God

I worked in the foster care case management system for 4 years. It's important work. It's vital spiritual work (using biblical language) to care for the widows and orphans. The prophet Jeremiah writes: "This is what the LORD says: Administer justice and righteousness. Rescue the victim of robbery from the hand of the oppressor. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the orphan, or the widow. Do not shed innocent blood in this place." (22:3)

Today, we "rescue" victims of intergenerational and systemic robbery by giving out treatment plans and telling people to find a job. We do violence to the foreigner by criminalizing their very presence. We "take care" of widows by making their children orphans. Innocent blood runs thick in our soil. Pay attention to what our administration administers--and stay awake to how your communities care for the vulnerable. We have a long history of child-snatching.

Images from my work in the foster care system cannot be erased from my memory:

An 8 year old boy, falling to his knees, hands clasped and arms raised up in prayer, refusing to rise for the CPS worker. His mother crying out. The police standing by.

Gazing through a sparse but well-worn family photo album, sitting side by side with a mother who had lost 2 children to the system already. I listened to her voice, pregnant with longing and emotion for each of her sons. I looked in her eyes. I heard my voice saying that I would be recommending termination of her parental rights over her medically fragile infant at our next court hearing. She wouldn't (or couldn't) look at me as I sat in front of the judge that day.

The foster parent's face, who had cared for a 6 year old girl for over a year, torn with grief and concern as the girl was placed back in her mother's arms. 

It's hard to reconcile faith with this reality of experience. But, "Care for the vulnerable is knowledge of God," Walter Brueggemann writes. This does not mean that the one leads to the other or vice versa. "Rather they are synonyms!" he exclaims.

Christian nation, your God has spoken, but your ears are closed. Hear this: "You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry; my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans" (22:23-24, emphasis mine). Why is this so comforting for me even when I know I am implicated? Perhaps, because to my ears, it sounds like the administration of justice.