I'm proud to say that four generations of my family have been helping Haiti in one form or another since 1955.
My first trip was over 30 years ago, and it tremendously impacted my worldview. I learned a few things:
All of humanity is connected.
Suffering can be alleviated.
With great knowledge comes even greater responsibility.
I can live a life committed to social justice.
Seven years ago we went to a village in the north of the country. At that time, the people were just not hungry, they were also thirsty. I had never seen the look of thirst in a person's eyes before. Hunger, yes. But thirst, no. It left a major impact on me.
After that, we were able to work with various individuals and organizations--including the mayor--to build a cistern for water and bring more sustainable farming to the community.
Hurricane Matthew put these farms under water, and 1000s of people are without food.
The good news is this:
My father had a trip already scheduled to go down this week. Donations have flooded in unsolicited. They will be able to feed 4000 children, women, and men meals of beans and rice for a week. They will also be able to survey the farms, meet with the mayor, and determine the best way forward.
In this tumultuous election season, I'm finding it's good to get my focus off contentious debate and reach out and help.
Please spread the word that there is help for Haiti, post-Matthew. If you'd like to make a tax-deductible donation, contact me at [email protected]. I can ensure that the funds get to the community in need.
This summer marks 30 years that I have been traveling to Haiti serving the poor. In fact, my grandfather first went to Haiti in 1955, so my family has rich history with this nation.
My last trip to Haiti was a year ago, and it was encouraging to see the economic progress in the northern city of Gonaïves where we have been concentrating our efforts:
We have a positive relationship with local political leaders.
New roads have been paved.
Water cisterns have been built providing clean, potable water to the people.
This is the latest update from my friend Pastor Irick St. Cyr in Gonaïves:
Finally, the school kids' parents have agreed on Friday to pay extra money to cover over 50% of the cost toward the school lunch while all my US sponsors declined assistance. We are only short about $ 300 a month. Please pray if you can help me with $200 a month. The well for the community potable water has furnished so much water, we are now able to collect extra money to pay the light bill for the pump itself and half of the school light bill.
This news encourages me as the people are taking ownership of education--paying what they can afford--and the water potable systems are actually producing income to pay for the school electricity.
But as you can see, there is a shortfall of approximately $300 a month. The US sponsors were unable to come through.
Would you consider making a one-time or monthly donation to support our school? I have been there numerous times and can attest that education is making all the difference in the lives of these children. This is a work of integrity where your gifts are honored.
Your donations are tax-deductible. Please email me at j[email protected] and I can put you in touch with the appropriate US address to ensure the funds get there. Or you can utilize PayPal here. Just mention my name and that the funds are designated for the school. Thanks.
For the last five years or so I have made a conscious decision to give something up for Lent.
Not food, drink, or material items, but something that I enjoy emotionally yet might keep me from connecting spiritually.
One year it was giving up a criticism. Another year it was a specific area of resentment.
I try to keep it real and psychologically meaningful, endeavouring to discipline myself emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.
I was at St. Brendan's in the City in DC for worship last Sunday evening and the announcements were made about upcoming Ash Wednesday. I silently surrendered to the Spirit that if there were something I needed to give up, it would be made known to me.
I should know by now not to pray those kinds of prayers. They tend to get answered. And quickly.
Nothing came to me. Yay! Relief! The best kind of silence. Nothing to work on.
For me, it sometimes feels easier to maintain spiritual status quo than to enter into a greater sense of mindfulness. I was happy to enter into the Lenten season just as I had entered into the New Year: keep things going strong, no major adjustments.
Then, I read it Wednesday morning.
Right there on my Facebook feed. A friend had posted a status update about the attitude of her heart she had worked on the previous year. I knew it was for me. She talked about her need to be right.
You see, I too have a great need to be right. (I know, you are shocked.)
The problem is, I often am, and that's not always beneficial for me.
I try to reason through my positions, provide a logical framework with good evidence to back up my case. When I'm in doubt, I try to respond with "you may be right", actually giving myself a little more room to be right or perhaps diffuse a situation where my ego might be bruised.
I suppose some of this compulsive "rightness' come from my shadow self--some egoic, self-loathing part of my soul that relishes the darkness of shame as opposed to the spiritual light of day. I think it's the part that Apostle Paul called the "flesh". Not physical flesh, but dark parts of the soul that keep me spiritually enslaved.
When I hit a shame hole, those shadows take over. I immediately run to prove my point, defend my position, hide my vulnerability, or validate my existence.
What a tiresome way to live, constantly on the defense!
I immediately texted my friend Richard, the rector of St. Brendan's. I knew he would think this a ridiculous idea and smack the spiritual sense back into me.
Me: For Lent, giving up my great need to be right.
Some time passes, I'm off the hook. Thank, God.
Richard: That is beautiful and got me thinking.
Prolonged pause on my part, need to talk him out of this.
Me: It's gonna be tough. Dying. Ugh.
Richard: Dying always is!
Some help he was. I was hoping he would tell me how utterly ridiculous of an idea this was.
Time to find a new priest, I thought. A mega-church pastor would never agree with him on this.
But I knew Richard was right. This is what I need in this season of my life.
So for Lent 2014, I commit to give up my great need to be right. This doesn't mean I can't be right. It just means if I am, I don't have to express it in every situation--or at all.
It also means I can say when I'm not right. Better yet, I don't even have to be right. My rightness does not determine my worth as a human being nor my self-esteem.
I can give up the need for self-validation, for proving my point, for justifying my position. I can be vulnerable. I can be silent. That's okay.
In the last 24 hours we have fed nearly 2000 men, women, and children.
For many of these people, this was the most substantial meal they've had in weeks.
There was such celebration--not just for the food but also because my father came. It's been six years since his health allowed him to travel to Haiti. The people celebrated him and talked about how much they prayed for him over the last several years. That is a blessing.
Coming here is no vacation. But it's very rewarding. Once I push past the oppressive heat, dusty roads, and feelings of exhaustion to become fully present, I see great hope and the possibility of positive change.
It's not without challenges, but nothing worth working for ever is.
Sometimes when I am in Haiti I feel like I'm cleaning up from the destructive effects of Europeans imperialism. That , along with Western colonialism in my opinion, has in many ways contributed to generational, systemic oppression in this country.
I'm not sure Western, missionary efforts have helped to undo this either. While much church-based aid has come into this country, it is said that if all evangelical statistics were compiled, the entire population of Haiti world be converted to evangelicalism several times over.
We know this is not the case. One only see the abject poverty of collective body and spirit in Haiti to recognize that the way the Good News is proclaimed here is not exactly working.
Clearly something is wrong. There is systemic corruption that is perpetuated politically, economically, and religiously as well.
For me as a follower of the way of Jesus, there is a responsibility to work for social justice and change. Giving clean water and food, providing education, and assisting people to help themselves are key elements of reversing the unfortunate consequences of Western colonialism and ineffective missionary work.
I believe part of this happens when we offer the poor the opportunity to think for themselves. When we give people the permission to think different about God and life, they are more easily able to experiment and change the ways that are not working.
For me, this happens every time I am able to speak in a Haitian school or church and effect the mindsets that keep the culture on bondage.
This morning I taught 22 Christian leaders from a psychological and spiritual perspective how to break familial, systemic oppression. The thoughtful and provocative questions they posed demonstrated to me again that Haitians are ready for a different perspective on life and God.
I'm grateful that the Haitians with whom I work are fearless in their efforts of working for a change of mind.
You can probably tell by this post, I am challenged this weekend. In my opinion, post-earthquake Haiti needs more than another evangelistic crusade. She needs more than another handout from white missionaries. She needs innovative, spiritual thought that will honor the Haitian culture while empowering the people to change their Land.
I first discovered her TED talk and books a few years ago. Her work on shame resilience and vulnerability immediately resonated with me. I began implementing it in my personal life and clinical work whenever possible.
Today we watched this video on The Power of Empathy. It's only a few minutes long and worth watching.
I had to share this photo
. I was pleasantly surprised to see it at the MLK Memorial today in DC. I've added a few other of my favorite quotes as well.
I'm sitting on a brick patio at a coffee and tea house in sunny San Diego. There's a man playing light jazz on the sax as a red trolly passes by, ringing its bell to alert pedestrians. The air is cool and I think to myself on this Sunday morning how grateful I am for life and all it can afford.
I've slowed down and am re-centering my energy internally, contemplating meaning and purpose in life. It's a good place to be.
I believe we all need to take time to move away from the crowds, to still the chatter in our lives, and to remind us what is important. There's so much noise that it's hard to hear at times. Or at least to hear clearly.
Here are some questions I'm contemplating this morning:
What do I spend my emotional energy on? And is it productive to spend it on those things? Is it really worth it?
Am I living life from a space that says good things are coming to me? Am I able to trust the process of life? Or do I worry what might go wrong? (Most of those imagined scenarios never really happen anyway.)
How am I being controlled by fear? Fear of the future? Fear of what people may or may not think? Fear cancels out faith. It annihilates hope too. Period. So fear is not allowed.
I don't have simple answers for these questions. They can be complicated to reflect on, even as life is complicated. However, the onus is on me to keep it simple. To keep first things first. To live my life guided by higher operating principles in spite of any present challenges. In fact, present challenges necessitate living by higher principles!
So I'm refocussing my energy this morning. I'm recalling the good things in my life. I'm practicing gratitude. I'm giving thanks in all things. Even the things that try me for it's in the trials that I'm made stronger.
Most people don't speak candidly about their lives. The stuff of life--trauma, abuse, or out-of-control behavior--is generally too grotesque and overwhelming for people to reflect on, let alone share publicly. Shame and fear incarcerate and keep one in isolation.
Jenny Skylark Kuvin is a notable exception to that. In The Terrible & Wonderful, Ugly & Beautiful Story of My Life So Far, Jenny shares her journey without shame, fear, or excuse, highlighting how one just doesn't survive but also comes to accept the terrible and wonderful, ugly and beautiful that oft characterizes human existence on this planet.
Jenny's story is a page-turner. When one thinks things can't get worse, they do. And yet their is a scarlet thread of redemption woven throughout, a voice calling to her through the darkness that all is not for naught.
I recommend Jenny's book to anyone who is wondering how bad things in life can be transfigured for one's good. I recommend Jenny's book to anyone who who has been impacted by sexual trauma, physical or emotional abuse, or addiction. I recommend Jenny's book because she's become a dear friend, personal rabbi, and prophetic voice in my life this past year.
This story is not about religion or answers. It is about radical honesty, acceptance of life's incongruities, and transformation.
Her story to me echoes the lyrics of Dolly Parton in Travelin' Thru:
God made me for a reason and nothing is in vain
Redemption comes in many shapes with many kinds of pain.
Her story will inspire you to find your own redemption in very real pain. Truly, nothing is in vain.
Jenny and I at her smicha--rabbinical ordination--in New York City last week.
Jenny being anointed by her ninety-eight-year-old rebbe, Rabbi Gebelman.
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