 Introducing
Word and World
by Bill Wylie-Kellermann
In January 2001, some fifty activists gathered in retreat
just outside of Detroit to imagine a school of discipleship, one which
might help in the renewing and rebuilding of a movement for justice and
non-violence in this country. Some of us had, in effect, been talking
about this gathering for years. The retreat was a word of mouth affair.
And frankly, the time had come to put up or shut up. Pull it together
or quit the talking.
What a wondrous and odd lot collection of folk we were: Catholic Workers,
hip hop poets, retreat center directors, youth and community organizers,
mendicant movement scholars, street actors and preachers, magazine editors
and freelance writers, seminarians and professors with a foot on the
margin, theologians, spiritual directors, jazz and gospel singers, convicted
felons, and urban pastors.
Of course there was newsprint sufficient to paper the walls (pages
to fill with brainstorming curricula and structure) but we spent the
much of our time together, not so much in planning a new institution,
as in simply telling the stories of how we had come to the circle. All
of us had seen our own lives altered and transformed by some process
of movement formation which we knew to be the crucial matter. It was
really that which we were after. And we all brought diverse pieces to
the vision taking shape.
For some of us, myself among them, this gathering marked the resurrection
of a project with historical roots in the Finkenwald experiment which
Dietrich Bonhoeffer had headed up in late thirties at the behest of the
Confessing Church in Germany. In our experience that same vision had
been reanimated in a sequence of events hatched more recently in this
country by William Stringfellow and Daniel Berrigan: an ad hoc series
of Bible study weekends convened specifically to nourish the non-violent
resistance movement of the late seventies and eighties. Mentored in that
tradition, we tended to reference the whole idea broadly as “the
underground seminary.”
Others of us came to the idea out of the memory of the Freedom Schools
- a tradition which could gather up the alternative high schools of the
Northern Student movement, the sort of strategic conversations held at
the Highlander Center, and the constant host of training sessions required
to organize campaigns of direct action in the civil rights struggle.
Some of us came to the circle having been awakened by the fierce and
whimsical pedagogies of Christian feminism, including alternative theological
reflection offered in places like Grailville, or in the struggles either
for womenchurch or for ecclesial inclusion of sexual minorities.
And others yet, arrived among us walking the path of liberation theology,
tutored and tested in the base-community movement where the language
of preference is Spanish and the pedagogy entails a risky cycle of action
and reflection.
These were not tidy but overlapping and echoing stories. One’s
which resonated, each in their own way, with the biblical narrative which
we held in common esteem. Which is to say, we also spent time doing bible
study together. One evening an astonishing session: prompted by an obscure
and appended passage from II Samuel about the grief of Rizpah for her
sons publicly impaled and tortured...we found ourselves hearing from
one another accounts of grief and death: friends bloodied by Klan bullets
dying in someone’s arms; death row inmates, befriended in constant
visitation, executed by the state before our very eyes; others more distant
disappeared and tortured out of sight by death squads; and yet other
friends suffering the slower but relentless assaults of cancer. We were
suddenly and abruptly a community of grief and solace, a community which
had tasted the fire, one which was beset by death and yet lived nevertheless.
This calls to mind another point, mysterious, crucial, and providential.
All of this was convened and set in motion prior to September 11 and
it’s aftermath. And yet throughout these recent months, it has
all but seemed the calculated groundwork of the Spirit. I’ve clung
to it personally as a constant source of hope for the future. The proper
and precise response required by events.
When the symbols of global power come crashing down...When the military
machine is abruptly unleashed and finally unconstrained by the last vestiges
of the Vietnam syndrome...When the major media speak as one, hyping an
atmosphere of patriotism which silences conscience and brooks no alternative...When
legislation (the Patriot Act) creates a new crime of “domestic
terrorism” which could readily be applied to civil disobedients...When
the same law sanctions unchecked powers of surveillance and investigation
(already applied against Denver antiglobalization groups)...When borders
close and xenophobia runs rampant.... When profiling is officially justified
against Arab Americans and others...When security becomes the primary
function of the state...When prisoners sit in jail uncharged...What then?
Seems like just the appropriate time to start a training center for movement
renewal, a freedom school of discipleship, an alternative institute for
building biblical and social literacy, a educational forum for the renewal
of church as movement (and renewal of the movement as church). I can’t
help but think that in all these regards the Spirit was ahead of the
historical curve.
The need, of course, had preceded in other ways. In the days of the
Stringfellow seminary underground, one of our gatherings was convened
around the following summons:
The seminaries we come from tend to be parochial in their concerns,
and those concerns narrow daily as financial problems make "survival" a
deathly institutional preoccupation. We would gather to connect with
one another, and broaden our vision of ministry. The seminaries we
come from tend to follow cults of academia, worshiping professionalism
and expertise. We would gather free of idolatrous enslavements. Seminarians
and seminaries seem to have forgotten how to read the Bible, reducing
it to an intellectual exercise, to a matter of proper critical technique.
We would gather to help each other become radically biblical and
biblically radical. In short, the seminaries we come from are more
and more swallowed up by the culture. We would gather to come out,
to turn again.
How I wish it didn’t still ring so true.
Only a few years prior Paulo Freire had introduced the perspectives
of popular education and conscientization, and yet even now thirty years
later, the prevailing teaching practices, let’s say in seminaries
just to stay concrete, still tend to breed dependence rather than empowerment;
privilege content over process; and nurture intellectualizing abstraction
rather than concrete praxis. In short they function largely as a form
of gatekeeping which fosters (nay, guarantees) the professionalization
of the clergy.
Sad to say, the academy of scripture and theology has long been separated
from the sanctuary, but even moreso from the street. Ched Myers, one
of the January retreat participants, has written: The social location
of most seminaries make them accessible only to educated, middle class
persons, remote from the life of the poor, and insulated from social
movements. And most seminary curricula fail to address the whole range
of practical skills needed for contemporary ministry: one can learn preaching
and the theology of pastoral care, but not community organizing, social
analysis, or nonprofit administration.
This is the breech into which the January retreatants and a wider circle
of ongoing conversants are praying to step. When we moved from roots
and storytelling to constructive imagination we began to feature something
which would have rigorous substance but travel institutionally light,
something which could have a common curricular heart, but be flexible
to the needs of place and moment. We conceived of what has since come
to be called Word and World: a People’s School. The name echoes
many things, not the least of which is Karl Barth’s old line about
doing theology with the newspaper in one hand and the Bible in the other.
Think of Word and World as a moveable, one-week institute which is
hosted and organized by local/national collaborations. Let it be said
and frankly, these are not intneded as conferences open mostly to those
with the time and money, but intensive schools requiring and presuming
commitment. The hope is that they be more than “entry level” encounters
to “taste and see” but be designed for people already actively
engaged in movement work (broadly defined as involvement in some significant
way with service, education, advocacy, or organizing for social change).
The aim is to help a new generation of such folk go deeper, developing
the gifts and skills which movement work demands. Our intention is that
each school would be a momentary educational village, heavy on mutuality
and shared responsibility. Like any good village, we are seeking out
a circle of movement elders, wise ones to anchor us in Spirit and history.
We have, likewise, set goals to balance local, regional, and national
participation. We want these gatherings to grow the capacity of local
movement efforts (which means a baseline of regional participation),
but we also want local resources and work to cross-fertilize and nourish
efforts elsewhere (which summons the national participants).
To guard such a balance, to ensure that commitment rather than means
should predominate, and to factor affirmatively for diversity (youth,
women, people of color, poor folk, gays/lesbians, and disabled people),
we have instituted, with some sense of trepidation, a simple process
of application and admission. And for this first round it seems to be
working. Those interested produce a personal statement of their history
and commitments in faith-based social change work for a joint regional/national
committee to consider.
The curriculum for these events is being broadly structured around
what we are calling “church practices” and “social
practices.” For example, focal points for nurturing competence
include: biblical literacy; political, social and cultural analysis;
Jubilee/Sabbath economics; the history and ethics of movements for social
change; spirituality of praxis; and building alternative communities,
institutions and networks. Pedagogical practices will be ecumenical,
contextual, inclusive, applied, and holistic. Almost all of the courses
in the first round are being team taught.
The first go round was in Greensboro, NC and picked up strongly on
the Freedom School tradition. (See sidebar). The next is scheduled for
Tuscon, AZ and will necessarily draw more heavily on the popular education
of the base community movement. And more are on the horizon: a Philadelphia
gathering in the mold of the alternative seminary, others in Detroit
or Chicago, and one hopefully in the northwest. It’s budding and
building as we go. [The Tucson School was also a success as described
below and in its Report, as was the Philadelphia
School that followed it. — ed.]
All this has been done (and perhaps properly so) on a shoe string.
A couple grants have enabled us to put some part time staff on the project,
but the base of the funding has been small and regular gifts from individuals.
And the lions share of the work has been done on a volunteer or inkind
basis. A circle of fine, fine folks have put their heart and soul into
making this happen. Let this be a bald-face solicitation. Send money.
Which is to say, let this also be a candid invitation: join us dear
friends. The times bode ill, but the Spirit, thank God, is on the move
and way ahead of the curve. Take heart. Bring your need, your labor,
your gifts. It’s happening.
Bill Wylie-Kellermann, a contributing editor to The Witness, is
on the National Boardof Word and World. He is Director of Graduate
Theological Urban Studies for SCUPE in Chicago and lives in Detroit
with his daughter Lucy.
 “Word
and World: A People’s School”:
Alternative Theological Education
Between The Seminary, The Sanctuary and The Streets
by Ched Myers
On Super Bowl weekend, 2001, fifty faith-based activists
and theologians from around the country met in Detroit, MI to discuss
the need for alternative theological training for Christians committed
to the work of social justice and solidarity with the poor. This ecumenical
gathering shared the sense that North American seminaries today are not
addressing the task of equipping everyday disciples to overcome their
sense of disempowerment and denial in order to engage in the evangelical
works of mercy and service, advocacy and resistance, community building
and social reconstruction. We also shared the conviction that theological
education should be more populist and more nurturing of a critical and
grounded Christian literacy in Word and world in order to build capacity
for the community of faith in its mission and witness in the world.
I. Problems. We identified several major problems with
most current institutional expressions of theological education:
- How theology is studied: Three decades after Paulo Freire introduced
the perspectives of popular education, the prevailing pedagogical practices
still tend to: breed dependence rather than empowerment; privilege
content over process; and nurture intellectualizing rather than praxis.
- Where theology is studied: The social location of most seminaries
make them accessible only to educated, middle class persons, remote
from the life of the poor, and insulated from social movements.
- What theology is studied: Most seminary curricula fail to address
the whole range of practical skills needed for contemporary ministry:
one can learn preaching, pastoring and theology, but not community
organizing, social analysis, or nonprofit administration.
Above all, we felt that the most troubling (yet rarely addressed) aspect
is the pervasive ideology of professionalism that characterizes seminary
education.
In a landmark 1977 study entitled The Rise of Professionalism,
sociologist Magali Sarfatti Larson of Temple University wrote:
Because marketable expertise is a crucial element in the structure
of modern inequality, professionalization appears also as a collective
assertion of special social status and as a collective process of upward
mobility… (Its) “backbone” is the occupational hierarchy,
that is, a differential system of competences and rewards; the central
principle of legitimacy is founded on the achievement of socially recognized
expertise, or, more simply, on a system of education and credentialing
(pp xvi-xvii).
The production of knowledge has become a “standardized commodity” in
the modern university, steadily displacing the older ethos of apprenticeships
and guilds with that of credentialing monopolies. Larson identifies the
three main components of the ideology of professionalism as individualism,
elitism and a psychology of entitlement. Thus “education is now
the main legitimator of social inequality in industrial capitalism.” Because
of the close relationship between the evolution of the university and
theological academies, ministers and theology professors have historically
been virtual charter members of this elite class of “knowledge
professionals.”
Over the last decade North American tertiary educational institutions
have been increasingly “structurally adjusted” by neoliberal
economic and political forces. This can be seen in such trends as privatization
of research, increasing student indebtedness and academic competition.
The university is thus becoming less of a community of critical thought
and more of a degree factory for the professional classes—and unfortunately
most seminaries are following suit. This drift has taken seminary culture
steadily further from the life of the church, both in terms of parish
ministry and social mission. This does not bode well, since the ascendant
values of economic rationalism conflict sharply with the gospel values
of a church that is supposed to promote the communal over the private,
the economics of gift and grace over that of debt and merit, and the
practices of cooperation and consosociation over those of competition
and individualism.
There are exceptions, of course, such as the Seminary Consortium for
Urban Pastoral Education in Chicago, the Ecumenical Theological Seminary
in Detroit, or the Centre for Christian Studies in Winnipeg. Grass roots,
non-accredited initiatives are even more exemplary, such as the Maryknoll
School of Theology in New York, the Servant Leadership Schools (based
in Washington, DC), or the Center for Scripture Study and Ministry at
the Margins near Seattle. And there are educational exposure programs
such as Witness for Peace, Borderlinks in Arizona or Journey into Freedom
in Oregon. But these exceptions only prove the rule. The worlds of the
seminary, the sanctuary and the streets generally spin in very different
orbits, with little engaged conversation between them—much less
accountability.
This insulation wreaks havoc in all directions. Professional theological
and biblical scholars tend to ignore the demands of practice, and feel
increasingly less obligated to interpret their work to lay Christians.
Their students feel the pressure to get their degrees so they can get
a job so they can begin paying off student loans, and receive little
incentive to engage in service among the poor or social advocacy. Meanwhile,
faith-based activists and social workers that are immersed in the works
of mercy and justice are notorious for neglecting the disciplines of
critical theological and political reflection. They are too tired, the
needs they face are too overwhelming, and the resources at hand are too
thin. And people in the pews—as well as their clerical and denominational
leadership— too often ignore both the insights of academics and
the challenges of activists, settling instead for the insular confines
of religious entertainment. All three spheres are profoundly impoverished
by their isolation from each other, and the holistic mission of the church
languishes.
II. Prospects. The Detroit gathering agreed, then,
that a key to the struggle to renew the church today is the task of re-integrating
the competences of these three alienated worlds of Christian witness.
We proceeded to brainstorm about how we might help return theological
reflection to an organic, not a specialized, vocation that focused upon
community formation, conscientization and capacity building, in order
to rehabilitate the church as a movement of personal and social transformation.
We identified four main streams that have influenced the struggle for
alternative theological education in North America over the last half-century:
- the “freedom School” tradition of the black church,
especially as it developed during the civil rights movement;
- the “underground seminary” and “School of the
Prophets” experiments of First World anti-war and radical discipleship
movements, which drew consciously upon the “confessing church” tradition
in Nazi Germany;
- the feminist pedagogies of the women’s movement and struggles
for ecclesial inclusion by sexual minorities;
- the base community movements and liberation theology, particularly
in the Latin American context.
These strands, as well as the more political models of popular education
embodied in union schools, the Highlander Center and the Center for Popular
Economics, have profoundly informed those of us who are trying to experiment
with approaches to Christian formation that integrate biblical literacy,
social analysis, and public witness.
We spoke about our common commitments to a pedagogy in which worship,
analysis and practice meet again and embrace. By the end of the Detroit
gathering we had reached consensus about moving forward to partner with
and extend the reach of existing experiments in alternative theological
education. This work has flowered into “Word and World: A People’s
School.”
Word and World is conceived as a moveable, one-week institute to be
hosted and organized by local/national collaborations. These Schools
are designed for people of faith already actively committed to “movement” work,
broadly defined as involvement in some significant way with service,
advocacy, or organizing for social change. Each gathering is to be rooted
in local organizations and communities, while drawing upon regional and
national constituencies and resources. The approach is popular, inclusive
and radical—that is, seeking the roots of the problems we are addressing,
and the roots of our biblical tradition of vision and nurture. The School
promotes the renewal of the church as a movement of transformation, while
also reminding social movements and activists of their need to be grounded
in spiritual values and disciplines.
The School curriculum is broadly structured around “church practices” and “social
practices.” Focal points for nurturing competence include: biblical
literacy; political, social and cultural analysis; Jubilee/Sabbath economics;
the history and ethics of movements for social change; spirituality of
praxis; and building alternative communities, institutions and networks.
Pedagogical practices are ecumenical, contextual, inclusive, applied,
and holistic. A steering committee, made up representatives from different
regions of the country, coordinates the design, resourcing and coordination
of the Schools. Regional hosting committees are then responsible for
building the necessary local coalition to sponsor a School, securing
suitable facilities for housing and learning, undertaking local recruitment
and publicity, and organizing and administering the event. Currently
there are two part-time national staff persons helping realize this vision.
The inaugural School was held in Greensboro, NC in April, 2002, hosted
by the Jubilee Institute and the Beloved Community Center, groups with
long commitment to justice work. The theme was the African American Freedom
struggle as it shaped the second half of the 20th century. Morning panels
narrated four crucial episodes in Greensboro’s own history of struggle:
the historic lunch counter sit-ins in 1960 that helped birth a nationwide
Civil Rights movement; the 1969 North Carolina A&T student strike;
the 1979 Klan massacre of union organizers; and the 1996 K-Mart labor
struggle. We heard from local people who participated in these events.
Afternoon classes looked at Act and Exodus; the theology and practice
of “Restorative Justice” and “Truth & Reconciliation” processes; “Layers
of Social Oppression” and “Movement History;” and “Spirituality
and Struggle” and the “Arts and Social Change.” Class
sizes were small (no more than 15) to encourage maximal participation.
Other aspects of the week included: daily worship and liturgy; small
group reflection and Bible study; evening roundtables; a youth camp;
music, poetry and bodywork; field trips into Greensboro; hiking; campfires;
and lots of community-building. Vincent and Rosemarie Harding from Iliff
Seminary, who worked closely with Martin Luther King, were the “resident
elders” in Greensboro. It was a remarkable week, and a strong first
step.
Ched Myers is an activist theologian and author based in
Los Angeles. His most recent publication is The Biblical Vision
of Sabbath Economics (2001). He is a member of the Word and World
National Board, and can be reached at chedmyers@igc.org.
 Word & World
By Joyce Hollyday
On a recent Sunday at Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson, Arizona, prayers
of mourning were offered for a group of Mexicans—including a two-and-a-half-year-old
child—who had died the previous week trying to reach the U.S. border.
Volunteers were solicited for “Samaritan patrols” in the desert,
where temperatures had reached well over one hundred degrees, to carry water
and transport refugees to safety. Almost two decades after leaders in the
Sanctuary Movement were arrested and put on trial for similar actions, the “conspiracy
of compassion” continues.
Tucson—with its proximity to the Mexican border, its indigenous
cultures and desert spirituality, its long history of labor and environmental
struggles—provides a unique space in which to take a stand to live
out the Word of God. It is an appropriate next stop for a “moveable
feast” known as Word and World, a new educational venture based
on the belief that rich theological and social reflection arises when
the Word of God and the realities of the world come into dialogue in
a local context.
The first “Word & World” school was convened in April
in Greensboro, North Carolina, a perfect place to launch this radical
discipleship endeavor that involved participants from all over the United
States and five other nations. Visits were made to the downtown Woolworth’s,
where the first lunch-counter sit-in sparked the student movement of
the Civil Rights era; and to the site of the 1979 massacre of marchers
by Klan and Nazi members—sacred spaces where we paused to pray
and remember. Participants and witnesses to these events—and to
ongoing struggles around labor and race issues—were our teachers,
inviting us every morning into their powerful stories.
Our afternoons were given to Bible study and classes based on church
and social practices, covering such themes as movement history, the Beloved
Community, spirituality and struggle, restorative justice, the arts and
social change, and global violence. A “circle of elders” offered
wise counsel and reflection. Dr. Vincent Harding brought his long experience
with freedom movements, as well as the faces and voices of some of his
colleagues in the Civil Rights struggle through the “Veterans of
Hope” videotape project. Throughout the week, the power of the
Bible, the poignancy of Greensboro, and the pain and promise of our current
political situation remained in constant conversation as we wrestled
with biblical texts, social analysis, and hope.
Our spirits were uplifted by offerings of music and poetry, from the
first whispers of early-morning prayer to the last camp song offered
around the bonfire late at night. Wednesday evening provided an opportunity
for the gathered “Word & World” community and the local
Greensboro community to offer gifts to one another, a rich celebration
of song and sharing. Our closing communion on Friday night elicited tears
of joy and testimonies of gratitude for a most amazing week.
Now we are setting our sights on Tucson. The week there will follow
the same structure, interweaving personal stories, Bible study, social
analysis, and worship. Visits will be made to sacred sites in the desert
and border area. Mentors in the “conspiracy of compassion” on
the border will be our witnesses and teachers. If Greensboro is any indication,
Tucson—and all the sites to come (we hope there will be many)—promises
to be a rich feast. If you are an activist or advocate, if you serve
soup or work for peace, if you’re committed to faith-based social
transformation and hunger for an inspiring week with kindred souls, please
consider joining us. [The Tucson School was a rousing success as described
further below and in its Report, as was
the Philadelphia School that followed it. — ed.]
Joyce Hollyday, an associate conference minister for the
Southeast Conference of the United Church of Christ, is on the
National Board and faculty of Word and World.
 A
People's School
by Joyce Hollyday,
April 2002
The larger-than-life-sized sculpture towers over our group gathered
on a warm April afternoon at the campus of North Carolina A&T University
in Greensboro. The likenesses of David Richmond, Franklin McCain, Ezell
Blair Jr., and Joseph McNeil stare over our heads, determination set
in stone on each face.
Dr. Vincent Harding, historian of the Civil Rights struggle, tells
us that on February 10, 1960, members of the House Un-American Affairs
Committee were scouting around Harlem, looking for the next “black
radicals” to target. That same day, a few hundred miles south,
the four A&T freshmen depicted in the sculpture strode up to the
lunch counter at Woolworth’s and sat down, making history. “Out
of the poorest and most despised section of the nation, from the poorest
and most despised people there, came a redemptive movement,” says
Dr. Harding. He smiles. “Can anything good come out of Greensboro?”
Those of us gathered for the inaugural event of “Word and World:
A People’s School” discovered that good things have been
coming out of Greensboro for decades. The student sit-in movement of
the 1960s, sparked by the bold action of the A&T freshmen, was the
first of a series of events that shaped our week in this historic city.
Our mornings were steeped in stories of courage from the Civil Rights
era and ongoing labor struggles, as well as eyewitness accounts from
the November 3, 1979 massacre of marchers by Klan and Nazi groups.
Rev. Nelson Johnson, who was wounded and witnessed the murder of five
of his friends that day, framed our week with rich theological reflection
arising out of years of persecution in the effort to bring justice to
Greensboro. He spoke of his personal struggle early in his life to understand
Jesus’ words at the cross: “‘Forgive them for they
know not what they’re doing.’ I thought, they know what they’re
doing; they’ve been doing it for a long time.” Johnson is
now a leader in the Greensboro Massacre Truth and Reconciliation Project,
which is seeking healing of the community through telling the truth of
the events of that traumatic day.
“Word and World” embraces the premise that all theology
is rooted in, and rises out of, the particulars of historical context.
Those of us involved in its founding and future agree that we could not
have chosen a better place to launch this effort. Throughout the week,
the power of the Bible, the poignancy of Greensboro, and the pain and
promise of our current political situation remained in constant conversation
as we wrestled with biblical texts, social analysis, and hope.
We went to Greensboro not only to learn from one another, but also to
be nurtured for the work back home of feeding hungry people and abolishing
the death penalty, welcoming refugees and working for peace. Rivers
of music, poetry, and prayer flowed around us throughout the week.
From hip hop to jazz, spirituals to chants, and a Salvadoran brother’s songs from the Misa Campesina (“Popular
Mass”), spirits were uplifted by creative expressions of joy and promise.
Energy was high from the first whispers of early-morning prayer to the last
camp song offered around the bonfire late at night.
Dr. Harding reflected, “No true transformation can take place
without some people—usually a minority—saying there is nothing
else for me to do now than this.” Such was the commitment of four
A&T freshmen 42 years ago—and of all the others who followed
them to lunch counters, and buses, and police-filled streets. As people
of faith confront each new moment in history, we need to ask what is
required of us for this time. The answers and paths may vary, but one
thing seems clear: we need one another to keep moving forward.
“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” was the honest
question posed by one of Jesus’ disciples at the beginning of his
ministry. The Gospel record tells again and again the story of good news
coming from the margins, from the most unexpected places. “Word
and World” is committed to seeking out the voices of good news,
wherever they may be found.
The next “Word and World” school will be held November
9-16, 2002, in Tucson, Arizona. Voices there will invite us into the
stories arising out of border issues, the historic Sanctuary movement,
labor struggles and racism in a different context. If Greensboro is any
indication, Tucson—and all the sites to come (we hope there will
be many)—promises to be another rich feast. We hope you’ll
consider joining us. [The Tucson School was also a success as described
below and in its Report, as was the Philadelphia
School that followed it. — ed.]
Joyce Hollyday, an associate conference minister for the Southeast
Conference of the United Church of Christ, is on the national steering
committee and faculty of “Word & World.”
Two Reflections on the
Tucson School
Both Sides of the Border
by Bethany Spicher, Mennonite Central Committee Washington Office
Stop for a chat and a taco, and the colonistas will tell you about
NAFTA — about the farm they lost in Oaxaca, why maquiladora wages
can't feed a family, how their son died crossing the desert to get
to el norte.
Houses painted the
colors of crayons, factories surrounded by chain-link fence, dancing
Tejano music and rumbling semi trucks, swimming pools and saguaros,
corn-on-a-stick and Coca-Cola-the U.S./Mexico border is a clash of
cultures and corporations, bright, alive, and talking two languages
at once.
In Circle K convenience stores (ubiquitous as Sheetz in the East), you
can buy a burger to go, same as anywhere; or for 99 cents, you can get
a taco-chorizo or huevos-made while you wait by the grandmothers that
Circle K hires to roll tortillas by hand.
And through this land of contradictions runs a 15-foot-high
metal fence, the top barbed, glistening, and arching toward Mexico.
Throughout the tumultuous history of the borderlands, it's been clear
who's kept out and who's keeping. Ever since 1848, when the United States
seized nearly half of Mexico's territory, it's the market that has determined
border policy: when things were good, the United States welcomed workers;
when times were tough, the borders closed. But in the mid-'90s, the U.S.
government launched a massive border crackdown even as the economy boomed
with the onset of NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement). Why?
For the first time in history, the economy was dependent on keeping
people in poverty and in Mexico-to work U.S.-owned maquiladoras, factories
south of the border.
On the Mexico side, industrial parks sprawl in valleys and colonias,
squatter settlements, cover the dusty hillsides-think steep roads and
stray dogs; no plumbing and no water; houses made of cardboard, tin,
tires, and the hoods of cars. Stop for a chat and a taco, and the colonistas
will tell you about NAFTA-about the farm they lost in Oaxaca, why maquiladora
wages can't feed a family, how their son died crossing the desert to
get to el norte.
There are colonias and stories on the U.S. side as well. A roofer, cheated
out of wages, won't complain because his boss could call the Migra, the
INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service). A woman, abused by her
husband, is afraid to alert the police, because they might ask for her
documents. A high school valedictorian can't attend a U.S. college; even
though she applied for citizenship two years ago, her papers were "lost" by
the INS.
The stories of sisters and brothers on both sides of the border invite
Christians in the United States to solidarity. As the U.S. government
works out the knots in the tangled Homeland Security Act, passed just
this week, we have a chance to advocate for wise immigration policy in
the new Department of Homeland Security. We can encourage a border strategy
that eliminates deaths in the desert. We can invite a legalization plan
that unites divided families, ends worker exploitation, and allows immigrants
to become citizens.
More importantly, we can educate lawmakers-and ourselves-about alternatives
to an economy that forces migrants from an impoverished south to an insatiable
north. The best way? We've got to take some trips to the border (www.borderlinks.org),
talk with colonistas, ponder the fence pointing south, change our lives.
(And taste some Circle K tacos while we're at it).
For
more information about immigration policy, visit Third WayCafé's "Beyond
the News."
Homeland
Security Advisor Tom Ridge
Office of Homeland Security
The White House
Washington, DC 20500
Some
Die Just One Step Before Their Future Starts
By Esther Armstrong, Word and World student
We were all exhausted as we piled into the bus to head back to Tucson,
Arizona. Our minds and hearts were full of complex disturbing stories
about the lives of the people living in small communities along the border
of Arizona and Mexico. We heard about the atrocities that often occur
when people who have less than nothing courageously attempt to cross
an arbitrary border in hopes of a better tomorrow, praying they will
not get arrested by the border control agents, or die before their future
begins.
We spent the day in Nogales witnessing the affects of poverty and oppression:
Tired, worn down people,
Dead dogs,
Cardboard walled homes,
Dwellings big enough for two, but home for many,
Dirty children with vacant stares,
Dirty water,
Dirty air,
Dusty dirt roads. . .
There are no words to make poverty attractive. There is no justification
for such injustice, for such deplorable conditions. I have seen similar
scenes and heard parallel stories many times in many different settings.
I have carried in my body the pain that automatically comes from being
a witness to truth. In the hope of releasing the tension, I have on occasion
shared these experiences through writings and presentations. I suspect
I did this to release some of the pain, telling myself that I had done
my part to inform the more privileged of the plight of the poor.
I slid into my seat on the bus, hoping I would quickly fall asleep and
awake to a changed reality. That did not happen. I was overcome with
intense grief, a grief I had not yet experienced in my 59 years of living.
A sharp pain, like an electric current, ripped through me, holding my
body hostage in a debilitating paralysis. I couldn't move. I couldn't
talk. But I could cry. The tears flowed down my cheeks as I realized
for the first time that I would not live long enough to see any positive,
concrete change. I will not, in my life time, witness the liberation
of the poor. I will never celebrate the day when our nation works for
peace instead of war. I will not experience the letting go of our sense
of entitlement, our arrogance, our greed or our power. My heart aches.
I know it is an ache that will not cease and cannot be mended.
I watched the younger members on the bus. They too were wrestling with
the experience of the borderland reality. I saw their tears and I began
to listen to their stories of how they felt it was their responsibility
to bring about change, transformation, liberation of God's people. I
wanted to comfort them, but of course I could not. There is little comfort
for those who allow their hearts to be broken by truth. Time has passed
since that day but the grief has not lessened and the images will not
fade. Yet hope has arrived as I remind myself that many throughout history
have not lived to see the results of the seeds they planted. God did
not call me to see the results of my labor. God called me to plant the
seeds, to be faithful to the journey, to remember that the harvest, which
I will not witness, will come.
It is my job to hold the young in prayer, to provide a safe place for
them to wrestle, discern next steps, fight the monumental battles before
them. They need my prayers and they need one another if they hope to
survive, for they too have chosen to be refugees in an increasingly alien
world. So I will pray and spend my remaining years praying, speaking
out for justice, and recording with my pen the truth as I see it.
Dee Dee Rischer said it well as the bus drew near the camp, "No
one on this bus knows who will be the one who lights the spark that will
lead to liberation; we just know we all want to be there when the spark
ignites." All of us will play our part to open doors to a future
yet unknown.
(c) Esther Armstrong November 2002
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