As my last post suggests, last week’s field trip inspired me to think about domination and power and the motivations behind them. While I know there are many historically situated hypotheses to answer this question, specific to Pakistan and former East Pakistan's histories and politics (Bangladesh), I still wondered, what it is that motivates or, at least, allows us to be complicit with domination. Why would the suppression and oppression of another be so tempting?
But, as soon as the questions came to mind, and I began to fell self-righteously critical, I remembered that I have complicity allowed my own participation in the oppression of others. Just to warn you, this post may take a "preachy" tone...
Here I am, of course, talking about the economic and environmental oppression of developing countries by the "developed world" (although I could also mention the manner in which America also has used military force/political pressure on other countries in order to obtain certain political or economic advantages). Honestly, I am a bit too tired and my brain is a bit too fried from Bangla study to eloquently express the multifarious manner in which I as a white, middle class American have contributed to global inequality but watching people scavenge for clean water and food, watching women walk home late at night from the H&M clothing factory (while I don my H&M blouse) and watching kids pick up piles of trash I can't help but think about all the food and clean water I've wasted, all of the companies with bad ethics I have supported for the fulfillment of my own consumption, all of the trash I have produced out of convenience, and all of the environmental resources my consumption has eaten up even though countries like Bangladesh (with an enormous population) use a fraction of those resources. So much of this trip has been a struggle with coming to with how much more power and privilege (both of which are totally unearned) I have in comparison to most Bangladeshis. And there are just so many ways to finagle for yourself a way out of feeling anything or doing anything; the excuses here are the same ones that we use in America to justify our lifestyles in the face of domestic poverty: the problems are too systemic and there is nothing to be done; they won't use that money for food (in this case the excuse in Bangladesh is that all beggars are a part of a ring operation, which may be true for some but not true for all; in America its that they will just use the money for booze although I know many a poverty-striken person who buys food with the money they get from begging); I'll just tithe through my church and that will equal it all out...
This week Travis and I have been reading John Howard Yoder's "The Politics of Jesus". It has been a very appropriate and challenging text to read in my time here. In one of his chapters, Yoder argues that Jesus was not simply bringing about a spiritual revolution in which he was the source of spiritual healing and forgiveness, but that he was also calling for a very political and socially founded revolution with biblical president: he was calling for jubilee. But, importantly, Yoder makes it clear that Jesus' metaphors for jubilee were not asking for a temporary leveling of society every few dozen years but, rather, were a command to his followers to live the jubilee everyday, that jubilee would be "a permanently defining trait of the new order". Relatedly, Yoder examines Jesus' command to his followers to "sell all that you have and give it as alms" as one very challenging portrait of what living jubilee might look like. He quite pointedly criticizes the contemporary trend amongst theologians and preachers to interpret this call metaphorically through the tithe. Yoder claims that the tithe is the easy way out, and one that most of us aren't even that good at following through with, at least not joyfully. This is my favorite of Yoder's quotes:
"(Jesus) did not wish to abolish tithes. He wished only to go beyond the level of easy fulfillment and easy moral self-satisfaction which could be had by giving the tithe, and to call people to reach the level of 'righteousness, goodness and good faith'...it was a jubilee ordinance which was to be put into practice here and now..."
Rather than detached and easy distribution of goods, Jesus asks us to give something much more challenging; he asks us to give, like the poor widow, out of our poverty. Yoder is challenging us to accept Jesus' command as a straightforward demand to give up our attachments to the capital that make us comfortable, and that places a comfort buffer between the haves and have nots. Obviously, its not just about capital and money, its about what they create- not just injustice and inequality, but also the mindset that allows you to easily avoid and ignore injustice and the needs of others and agitates the seeking of fulfillment in things when such fulfillment should be found in loving relationship and charity. Essentially, its about radical sharing and distribution that changes both the self and those you share with. Jesus' command for jubilee is severely needed today. My consumption has allowed me to participate in and ignore my own oppression of others; I am learning that I am asked both as a Christ follower and as a fellow human being to open my hand and re-structure my life as a participant in a community rather than as an individual seeking her own comforts,
I say all of this knowing that I am as far as anyone else from fulfilling such a command; I have found this to be particularly true in Bangladesh. Being in an uncomfortable, new environment makes the comfortable all the more enticing. Sometimes I really relish my 30 Rock DVD, my air-conditioning, and, most certainly, my internet that connects me to family and friends and, as I have said in previous posts, I am guilty of cloistering myself in my room with these things to feel "at home" and away from the reality of Dhaka that includes so much of the inequalities that I have helped reinstate. I have to work on changing many things about my everyday existence before I begin even attempting to live jubilee, but it begins with giving up attachment to these comforts and finding home in God and finding comfort and joy in the opening rather than in the closing of my hand. Easier said than done.
But I don't think Jesus expects this to be an easily achieved manner of living; it is a way of living because it is a process. It takes time and while it might get easier, you will fail at times; it takes faith to push you to open your hand, divine forgiveness to continue loving you when you fall, and community to reveal the divine joy that is experienced and created in sharing. I believe the Sunset Hill Community in Bloomington (shout out!) and the Vox Veniae community are graceful examples of such lived jubilee that I am privileged to have met.
One difficulty of Bangladesh is that I still can't speak the language very well. When there are kids on the street or rickshaw wallahs that don't make enough money to make up for the calories they burn in hard labor, all I know to do is "tithe". All I do is give money and walk back home to my luxurious apartment. I am still figuring out exactly what living jubilee looks like here and at home; I think I am finding that Bangladesh might be a slightly difficult place for me to "give it all", at least for now. But the blessing of this trip has been that I have seen the need for change. I have spent much of my life building walls of comfort that ultimately keep others out because its easier that way; rather than opening my home to someone who needs it, or giving out of my blessings, I have tended to hoard my blessings and hoard my comforts. There are big and little changes that I can do to better live jubilee, to live like the poor widow. I know I am sorta afraid and uncomfortable with the idea itself and what it might entail but I also know that God is present in it.
While I'm not sure if I will figure out jubilee in my short time here, I have seen God working it out for me. I have seen God moving, healing, establishing loving relationships of sharing, and resurrecting here. I will leave you with one such story:
My friend Annie and I were discussing how to give in Bangladesh. Being a bideshi and, thus, an obviously priviledged person of wealth, we are often asked for money. Sometimes we don't do what we should. I will admit that there have been times when I haven't given because I haven't felt safe to open up my wallet; I like to say that its complicated or excused by my being a woman in a foreign place, but I know I should just have some cash or food ready to hand out so I can't excuse my way out of it. But the other night Annie really did face a rather troubling dillema. She was riding a rickshaw home by herself at night (don't worry, mom, I don't do that) and a rickshaw wallah started telling his story.
I will pause for a moment to say that we all learned the other week that a study was conducted in which it was learned that if you look at the daily wages of a rickshaw puller, there is no way for him to buy enough food to make up for the calories he loses doing his job. As a result, many rickshaw pullers die at a very early age because their hearts literally "give out". Two crazy things regarding this: 1) rickshaws are the only means of transportation aside from the bus or CNG's both of which aren't the safest option for women. 2) There a bargaining culture that prevails in Dhaka. You are, according to locals, "supposed" to barter for a lower rate. My language partner gets mad at me when I give rickshaw pullers more than the "going" rate because she says I don't understand Bangladesh and that they will charge other Bangladeshis more if bideshis give them money; I don't think bideshis affect the market enough for this to be true and I have a hunch that it has more to do with class issues because Monica also told me that they are lower class and don't have a right to ask for more money. I have started sneaking money to my rickshaw pullers but its still a source of tension between Monica and me. I am pretty sure I offend her every time I do it but we don't see eye to eye on the issue after a few discussions about it.
That aside was just to illustrate the already difficult life of a rickshaw puller and the social politics regarding their social status. So on top of all of the inequality and injustice that are tied to the lives of most rickshaw wallahs, this rickshaw puller explained that he had lost his home in a flood and needed money. But then he stopped peddling on the dark street and told Annie she had to give him 20,000 taka; Annie gave him the 800 taka in her wallet when he dropped her at home and came upstairs to talk. She was confused about how to feel about what happened. On the one hand one can understand making such a demand out of need; you can't really blame him for his desperateness. 20,000 taka is doable for us (its around $300) bideshis and really would make a huge difference in his life. As persons with the ability to give, we have this strange power to choose who to give to and how much. It doesn't feel right to have this power; we certainly haven't earned it, and we certainly don't deserve access to the necessities that he lacks any more than him. So there is this basic injustice present that we wish we could change and we do have some power to change, at least in the short term, and yet, at the same time, there was a power imbalance between Annie and the driver because while he knows the city and the language Annie does not. Annie and I talked about it a long time and ultimately came to the conclusion that power imbalances just suck. I had to believe that the big systematic one that we play a role in would have some divine solution that I just couldn't see.
But then I saw that divine solution the next. Prepare yourself for a story of divine awesomeness.
The day after the incident, Annie was walking down the street to our house (its a very safe street mom, don't worry) and she heard a rickshaw wallah offer a ride. This is a frequently occurring event as most people take rickshaws and if you are walking you are probably looking for a rickshaw. Annie didn't look up at first and just said no but when she briefly looked up she and the driver caught each other's eyes. In the whole city of millions of people, a day after a discouraging and even frightening encounter, Annie had miraculously bumped into her one rickshaw wallah friend. His name is Takof (I think that is how you would spell it). Annie was here four summers ago with the same program and had become friends with him then. She and another CLS'er had become close with him and his family. The last that Annie had heard from him, Takof was ill with TB and had to return to his village. Annie feared with this trip that she would learn of his passing but instead she found his healthy and smiling face amongst the millions of faces on the street outside her home. They joyfully reunited and simply rode around the city chatting. Annie asked if he had a cell phone number she could call him on (everyone has a cell phone here) but he explained that he had to sell it when he got sick and it was 2,000 taka for a new one. Annie said, "Well I've got that!" and gave him some money for them to stay in touch. Annie explained the event to the group later that night with overwhelming joy. What a beautiful expression of what sharing can look like at the beginning of a struggle with power. While Annie is still clearly in a position of power, she was able to help another, in a relationship of love, out of joy and in the hopes of continuing to deepen the relationship. I haven't met Takof yet but I hope to. He and Annie are going to hang out together this summer.
We can't fix the social structure over night; we can't abolish poverty over night. Even if Annie had given everything she possibly had, there would still be a nation stricken with poverty because of global economic inequalities and its possible that Takof would still face many economic problems. However, we can, as Mother Teresa reminds us, make little changes with big love.
I don't mean for this to sound pollyanna. I recognize that there are huge problems and that we can't just say that God will fix it all; even though I believe God is big enough to do that, I also believe it is up to us to bring about the social and economic justice that we have deprived so many of through our own selfish consumption. This takes political and social action on an enormous scale; work that must be done today even if it seems fruitless.
But I am also aware that I can't singlehandedly make global problems go away by giving some taka to someone who needs it. And I don't think that is what jubilee looks like either. I think jubilee is about giving and giving and giving and letting go of power that comes with capital, but I also think that it is about relationship wherein it is a reciprocal action of giving; you give but you also receive because you form a relationship and in the end it is creates a sustainable microcosm of jubilee again and again. God facilitated that with Annie and Takof and I believe will facilitate it if we are willing to give and receive love through relationship.
Ok, that's the end of my super preachy post. I hope this finds you all well. Thank you for your prayers, love and support. They are needed and appreciated everyday.
With all my love from the city of mosques,
ashlee
No comments:
Post a Comment