A Genuine Word

I work in a field where a genuine word is, surprisingly, hard to find.  Countless mediums are too often filled with warm and fuzzy content seeks to arouse emotional goose bumps rather than honest, sometimes-hard, discussions that arouse true conviction.  I have often been guilty of producing more than my fair share of fluff, and I’ve struggled with striking balances of sentiment and substance when explaining the context of what we do, how we do it, who we serve and the impact we seek to make.  I often get off-balance, and as an insider to this particular location (the Middle East) and vocation (missions, development), I can see that many others do as well.

So I was surprised when came across a genuine word.  It was in a familiar place (our ministry office, literally next door to me) and from a familiar voice (our national director), but the message posted in an organization newsletter was starkly unfamiliar.  Rather than appealing to clichés, simplicity and dramatics, it spoke with sincerity about what we do and I why.  Not only was I surprised to see the words, I was surprised to realize how much I needed to hear them.  Like a little corrective voice, the passage again turned the head of my heart in a direction worth pursuing.  Perhaps you will too find it a genuine word and a reminder of the purpose to continue with faith in towards the opportunities around us.

Our part of the world has been plagued by war for decades.  I lived most of my childhood through the so-called “Lebanese Civil War” that wrecked havoc in the country for 15 years.  Hundreds of thousands of lives were lost.  We were eventually driven out of our home town and forced to leave everything behind.  That was the hardest part for me.  My sense of security and belonging was gone, along with all my childhood pictures.  Carrying only scarred Memories, my hope in life was seriously shaken.

In His perfect timing, God’s children came into our lives as family providing practical help and sharing the Good News about a better future in a heavenly city.  A new sense of hope was restored in me.  I’m most grateful for the opportunity we have at Kids Alive Lebanon, not only to be God’s serving hand but also His voice that instills hope.  Pain and suffering surround us.  But our programs provide a safe haven for the precious children who have been entrusted into our care.  Their needs are met and their eyes opened to the love and salvation that God has in store for them.

Our ministry embraces street kids, refugee children, orphans, and those who suffer from abuse or neglect.  They all find the care that every child, created in God’s image, deserves.  At the Oasis, using our limited resources, we’ve embarked on an exciting adventure with the Lord to make a difference in the lives of 60 Syrian refugee children. We’ve been learning together with the children that nothing is impossible with God.  They have come to appreciate the Word and they love to sing songs of praise which lift them above the ugliness of war and its horrors.  We appreciate all those who share the same vision and help us accomplish great things for God!”

Joseph Ghattas

Field Director, Lebanon

Remembering to Remember Well

Dar El Awlad was honored again this year to participate in the Service of Remembrance hosted by the British Embassy at the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery in Beirut. For many years one of our young men has been invited to lay a wreath in honor of fallen veterans of war, and I've blogged about past ceremonies here.  Our young man did a fine job this year and represented Dar El Awlad well. We hope continue our involvement in the Remembrance Day event.

While a nice opportunity to engage Dar El Awlad with the wider community, Remembrance Day offers a chance for serious reflection. The more I age the more I encounter the potential pitfalls of memory, a topic I've written about before.  Too often remembering serves to rekindle pain, extend guilt and blame, and stifle the work of reconciliation.  It doesn't have to be this way, but often it is.  Even with the respect and class of an event like this, a Service of Remembrance poses challenges. Can we remember the past without holding on to it negatively?  Can we recount the misery, loss and brutality of conflict without letting it corrupt our hearts? These are good questions to ask; however, I walked away from this year's ceremony encouraged by an example of remembering well. The ceremony concluded by reading a moving prayer. It serves as a compass as we attempt to navigate the mess and the beauty of this world and our memories of it:

The Litany of Reconciliation

All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.

The hatred which divides nation from nation, race from race, class from class,

Father forgive.

The covetous desires of people and nations to possess what is not their own,

Father forgive.

The greed which exploits the work of human hands and lays waste the earth,

Father forgive.

Our envy of the welfare and happiness of others,

Father forgive.

Our indifference to the plight of the imprisoned, the homeless, the refugee,

Father forgive.

The lust which dishonors the bodies of men, women and children,

Father forgive.

The pride which leads us to trust in ourselves and not in God,

Father forgive.

Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving on another, as God in Christ forgave you.

Amen

Dar El Awlad represented in the company of dignitaries

Laying the wreath

He did a fine job, represented Dar El Awlad well.

A picture with a fellow service-day participant.  We did not realize until later that it is Paula Radcliffe, current women's world record holder in the marathon and Member or the Order of the British Empire. She was in town to support the Beirut Marathon.

Discovering the Lebanon Mountain Trail

Lebanon is in the midst of a number of crises, all of which can drain the heart and tire the spirit. Among the most personally challenging of these recent issues has been the ongoing trash crisis. For the past three months Lebanon has become a wasteland of east as trash piles come and go and shift without any competent system of management.  It's a mess and sometimes it makes me a mess. But recently I was reminded of what Lebanon possesses beyond the garbage.  

The Hamouds shared a rare family gathering in Lebanon this month and most of us siblings planned couple a days of hiking along sections of the Lebanon Mountain Trail.  For the past decade, this non-profit organization has been establishing, maintaining and expanding a 480 kilometer walking trail that covers Lebanon North to South.  It captures Lebanon's natural and cultural beauty in impressive ways.  

The two sections we hiked were more than we anticipated, both in splendor and challenge.  By the end of the journey we achieved an experience marked by meaningful connections: connections with God's creation, connections with people who opened their doors and hosted us, and connections with one another.

The Lebanese Mountain Trail shows both the potential and the challenges of this country. Natural beauties abounded, but along the path we saw the forces of urban development and (trash) pollution threaten the integrity of the trail. Even so, what currently exists is a gem. I hope it will be discovered and well-kept by many, and I hope to be a frequent visitor myself.

Rising above the villages

Passing through a pine forest

The walking trail included paths, roads, and even stone walls

Rare points of tranquility in an urban country

Thank you Romans for creating this road thousands of years ago.  We are still utilizing it today!

Testaments of former times are found throughout the way.

Off the beaten track

A place for reflection among reflections

Haunted by a Child, Desperation, and the Mercies of the Water

Aylan Kurdi* has been haunting the world this week.  Images of the three-year-old-boy washed up on a Turkish beach has likely done more to communicate the nightmare that is Syria than any rhetoric, reporting or study from in the last half-decade. (I will not post the picture, but it can be seen on the provided link)  He and his family were among the masses of Syrian refugees fleeing their hell by putting faith in ferries, smugglers and the prospect of life in Europe.  It’s a journey that I am aware of.  A number of my refugee friends have asked for my thoughts as they consider taking the trek.  I’ve heard the step-by-step breakdown of a voyage that many thousands are taking successfully and many other thousands are taking tragically.  The Syrian crisis has been going on for years and sucking millions of lives into its terror.  Now it may finally have a name: Aylan.

I have painfully journeyed with this crisis from its offset.  My Syrian relatives have been tossed into displacement while friends and loved ones have been lost to the conflict.  I have spent countless hours listening to the refugees’ stories of plight, pain and despair.  This is not new news to me.  Despite all this, the picture of a three-year-old on a shoreline opened my eyes to new depths of war’s true evil.

When I first saw the image of Aylan’s small, lifeless body resting on a sandy beach I immediately thought of my own infant daughter.  So often I see her in the same position sleeping peacefully in a bed far removed from any encounter of violence and chaos.  I know that she will arise from her sleep, but Aylan never will.  He joins the countless babies, infants and children that have been taken by the vicious manifestations of this civil war.  They are both the true innocents and the primary victims.

I can only uncomfortably wonder what it must feel like as a man to take the risk of putting my wife and baby in a dingy boat and surrendering them to the mercies of the waters with the hope that they will arrive to a better place.  How terrible could a situation be to take such a gamble?  How broken must it all be to compel me to make such a move?  I pray I never find the answers to these questions.

Aylan’s story reminds me of another story from ages ago.  A young Hebrew mother in Egypt was surrounded by an unthinkable carnage that threatened to strike down her baby.  Faced with systematic killing by a ruthless regime and murderous operations by terrorizing militants, the mother placed her boy in a basket, set it in a river and surrendered the precious life to the mercies of the water in the hopes that he will arrive at a better place.  It was an act of faith-mingled-with-desperation by a mother that had nothing and everything to lose.  The baby, a beautiful boy named Moses, journeyed well and eventually landed in the care of Pharaoh’s family.  There in the courts of royalty Moses found a promised land that would preserve him so he could someday lead his people to the Promised Land. 

Aylan did not arrive to his promised land.  He was taken by the waters and spit out for the entire world to see.  But Aylan is not unlike Moses for neither was ever truly at the mercies of waters, but at the mercies of the living God.  The flights of the two children may have met differing outcomes, but God is not a god of the outcome; he is a god of the overcome.  The hope for Aylan and every innocent life cut down by this world’s ruthlessness is that God has overcome death through Christ and a cross and a empty grave.  It’s the only hope any of us can claim of arriving at the final Promised Land.

This month Dar El Awlad will take new children into its programs.  Many of these will be among the millions of Syrian children that have had their lives turned upside down by displacement, death and destruction.  They bear scars that we cannot even begin to understand let alone heal.  But we trust in God’s mercies and the unfailing love that has the power to restore and transform.  We try to do our part knowing that He is ever faithful to do His part.  Our prayer is that we can be a type of ‘pharaoh’s’ palace, a place of protection and provision as God prepares these children for the plans set before them.

I wish I had no idea who Aylan Kurdi is.  If lament that his family were in a position where risk on the seas looked more promising than life on the land.  I do not want to see any child’s life placed in the mercies of the waters.  I want all refugees to return to their homes and rebuild their nation.  In the meantime, I pray we at Dar El Awlad can help alter few narratives from hopeless to hopeful and make ourselves part of the solution rather than simply observers of the problem.

*Aylan’s real name is in fact Alan Sheru.  Kurdi was used by the Turkish press to note his ethnicity, and the name has carried on in the press. 

60 years on, I do remember Emmett Till

Emmett Till should be alive today.  He should be spending his twilight years surround by children, grandchildren (even great-grandchildren) enjoying a life well lived.  But Emmett Till is not alive today.  60 years ago on this day the Chicago native was gruesomely killed while on a visit to relatives in Mississippi.  The fourteen year old was beat, eye-gouged, shot in the head, tied by the neck with barbed wire to a cotton gin fan and thrown in the Tallahatchie River.  It was an attack that sent ripples across the country for its sheer brutality.  His offense?  Speaking to a lady.  The subsequent trial captured the attention of the nation and ended with two suspects acquitted of any crime (this despite the fact that they later admitted in a magazine interview to murdering Till but were protected against double jeopardy and therefore suffered no legal punishment).  The result was a young, promising life destroyed while the confessing perpetrators walked away free.  American folk singer/poet/historian Bob Dylan captures well the events of six decades ago in his song “The Death of Emmett Till.”

I am haunted by Emmett Till.  I remember hearing about his death as a grade-school student and it blazed in my mind a vivid realization of the scars of hatred and violence that my country regrettably bears.  As I grow older I see the narrative in different ways.  I realize that Emmett Till was not killed because his skin happened to be black and the skin of the girl he spoke to happened to be white.  He did not die because he found himself in a state with a rather terrifying history of lynchings.   He did not suffer because he lived in a time when skin pigmentation determined an individual’s rights, protections and access to legal justice.  Emmett Till died because some individuals were so uncomfortable with themselves, so unsettled in their understanding of who they are, that they acted out humanity’s tendency to violently strike down something different.  It is the same propensity that I see acted out time and time again in my home country, adopted country and every other context known to man.  The problem never is race, religion, culture, or “the way of times.”  These are invariably mixed into the problems, but they do not take away life.  The problem is that, ever since Cain struck down Abel, we continue to strike down our fellow man when he exposes what we do not like about ourselves. 

How incredible it is then to remember Jesus who suffered the absolute worst of man’s violence while never striking out in any way.  He taught a pure message that called for the enduring of violence (even unto death) but never its administration.  In the end, Jesus demonstrated that even the worst of human violence can be turned by God into something glorious.  We see it in the cross where a vile and disgraceful death was turned into the ultimate act of triumph, hope and life.  We see it in Emmett Till, where a tragic death catalyzed one of the greatest social movements of our times in the American Civil Rights Movement.  It may have been a cold, heartless murder but it was not a loss in vain. 

As someone who spends his occupation working with children and youth, I can find only little solace in the thought that one boy’s death was required to help elevate and liberate countless other lives.  I feel the lament of Mamie Till, Emmett’s mother, when she writes in her memoirs, “I realized that Emmett had achieved the significant impact in death that he had been denied in life. Even so, I had never wanted Emmett to be a martyr. I only wanted him to be a good son. Although I realized all the great things that had been accomplished largely because of the sacrifices made by so many people, I found myself wishing that somehow we could have done it another way.”

In midst of the violence, war and death rampant in our times, there are too many people who, like Emmett Till, have been sacrificed to death when all they desire is life.  Yet I do thank God that He has shown us “another way” in Jesus.  The one who ultimately suffered declares that the suffering of those past and present will not be ultimate; he compels us to be people of peace to bring a future of healing and hope to this world.  

I conclude with Emmylou Harris's touching tribute song "My Name is Emmett Till," a fitting call for this day and every day to remember the past and build for a future.

Celebrating Citizenship While Remembering the Excluded

After arriving nearly six months ago, Yasmine officially received American citizenship today!  It’s a simple set of documents that do not change who she is essentially, but they do certainly change who she is practically.  Yasmine can now boast membership to a nation-state and access to all the rights and privileges of citizenship.   Acquiring this was not much more than a formality, but even formalities consist of technicalities.  Lebanon does not allow women to transmit citizenship onto their children or spouses-apparently a Lebanese woman is less of a human than a Lebanese man*- therefore Yasmine’s only shot at citizenship was through me and the United States.  However, this required building a case.  Since I am the lone U.S. citizen parent, and since I was not born on American soil, I had to prove that I satisfied the residency requirements to pass nationality to my child.**  Had I not bothered to apply for citizenship nor met the nationality requirements, Yasmine would have been at risk of having no formal citizenship, a condition we call statelessness. 

As a father, I feel a sense of relief and comfort knowing that I have provided my daughter with citizenship.  Most of us take such a thing for granted, but for many millions of children around the world citizenship is a dream rather than a reality.  An estimated 15 million*** people in the world are stateless, deprived of a fundamental human right.  In some cases they have been discriminately denied citizenship while in other cases they have slipped through the cracks of complicated nationality laws and find themselves lacking any.  The outcome is a condition of “being a foreigner everywhere, a citizen nowhere.”  Though most have never left their country of birth, stateless individuals are excluded from society and deprived of the protections and provisions of a state.  They lack the right to access rights and are, as the philosopher Hannah Arendt puts, “rightless.”  An array of services, opportunities and experiences are denied or extremely complicated for stateless individuals, including movement and travel, land ownership, conducting business and banking, gaining legal employment, access to education and healthcare, registering marriages and births, voting, serving in political office, receiving a drivers license, passing on or receiving inheritance, qualifying for insurance or social security benefits, and participating in civic services.  Just imagine for a moment how different your life would be if you had no passport, I.D. card, drivers license, official birth certificate or social security number?  Imagine if you had existence but no legal entity that was ready to recognize it.  Think about all the aspects of life that would be impacted.

Before moving to Lebanon I had no concept of statelessness; I assumed that everyone everywhere has some sort of citizenship.  I knew some lack official status in their country of residence (such as undocumented immigrants and migrants), but they do have citizenship to a country somewhere; there is a place they can claim official belonging.  The stateless, regrettably, do not belong anywhere.  During these past years I have encountered statelessness in many ways and many faces.  It impacts children we serve at Dar El Awlad, relatives of mine, friends and ministry partners, fellow church members and many others.  It is not a rare occurrence or an anomaly, but rather a global crisis that extends its ugly hand to all regions of the globe.  The problem is only intensifying as legal reforms fail to address the underlying issues of statelessness and displacement levels reach record highs. (Refugee situations are a hornet’s nest for statelessness to start and perpetuate.)  Despite its breadth and severity, the international community has failed to recognize statelessness for what it is, and there remains pathetically little effort to fix this theoretically solvable problem.  Even so, there are champions for the cause who are working to confront this injustice with advocacy and action.  I desire to be among this number.

I may be able to rest in knowing that my daughter is now a citizen, but I will not forget the many millions who are not so fortunate.  Until every last person in this world can boast with confidence an official nationality, I will try to be a voice and a minister to those suffering statelessness.  This sentiment has led me make statelessness the topic of my graduate thesis, and I believe it is only the start of my intentional engagement with one of today’s worst human rights crises.  I am thankful for the opportunity with Kids Alive to directly serve stateless individuals in a meaningful way, and I am thankful for friends of mine that have recently seen their statelessness remedied.  Mostly, I am thankful for our God who promises to fully deal with every form of evil and injustice; the eternal hope of heavenly citizenship is true and unfailing. Let it be on earth as it is in heaven.

Please engage yourself with this important topic by exploring the Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion website for the most current information on statelessness and by adding your name to the United Nations #Ibelong campaign.

*It is completely possible for a person who has never once stepped foot on Lebanese soil to be granted Lebanese citizenship via the father while another born and raised in Lebanon with a Lebanese mother is excluded nationality.

**This meant providing proof that I resided at least five years in the U.S., three of those years after the age of 14.

*** This estimate is provided by the research of the Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion, although the UNHCR puts its figure at 10 million.  The number is not known precisely but the bottom-line remains:  this problem exists at a huge scale.

A week with Calvary!

We were blessed last week to have a service team from Calvary Church in Waco Texas coordinate a weeklong program for over 40 children in our residential, school and care center programs.  It was a great week, and you can read all about it at the team’s blog, www.lebanoninjuly.blogspot.com.  Here you will find insightful reflections about the activities, individuals and experiences that filled the visit.  I urge you to explore all the posts, but I am sharing one that I found particularly helpful in understanding the dynamics of Dar El Awlad.  We’re blessed to have this team partner with us year-after-year and look forward to growing our friendship together.

A Reflection on Calling

In light of several friends who have been in the midst of transitions and the summer mission’s devotions, I’ve been thinking through the idea of calling recently. Some of us are called to certain things and others are called away from certain things. We are called to serve in a variety of different ways in certain places in a certain time. Most people who know me well, know that I often go between feeling like I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing and not having a clue what I should be doing in life.

The last few days, I’ve had the opportunity to consider the idea of calling in the midst of this beautiful setting that is Dar El Awlad. I’m always amazed by the staff that are called to this place to love and care for the boys here. There are a few families who have been here for decades serving generations of boys and a new house mother who just started in a unit last night with her first group of boys ever. All of them have responded to a call to serve in this place at this particular time with a wonderful group of boys.

I’m also always in awe by the group of boys and children that we’re working with this week who have been called to this place while being called away from another place. There are children who have found their way here after leaving unthinkable situations such as war torn countries, persecution for becoming Christians, or difficult family situations. It’s unbelievable to hear their stories, to hear the things they’ve seen or experienced, and to also see the joy that they are still able to have at this place.

I’m still not completely sure about my calling half the time, but I pray that I can begin to lean into the calling that we have this week. To be present, to laugh and have fun, and to relentlessly learn from and love the boys and staff here.

-Josh Caballero

A Saturday is a good place to start

How do you respond to the greatest humanitarian crisis of our century?  I’m not sure, but one Saturday a month is a good place to start.  During this calendar year I have participated with Youth for Christ Lebanon’s outreach to Syrian Refugee youth by helping their monthly meetings in the Bekaa Valley.  The setup is simple: receive around 100 children from a refugee camp and fill a few hours of their day with games, conversation, Bible skits and discussion.  It isn’t the most sophisticated of ideas, but it is taking a small step to ease the pain of a terrible situation.  Month by month we get to know these children a little better and share small, but meaningful, parts of our lives together. 

I have been encouraged to see Youth For Christ Lebanon recently increase their initiatives to reach out to the some of the many thousands of youth that have entered Lebanon in the last number of years.  The testimonies coming out of this ministry is exciting as I hear about how individuals are sincerely responding to the teachings of Christ.  For many, this has been their first opportunity to hear, see and experience a demonstration of the gospel.  The fruit is in God’s hands; our call is to be faithful to sow, water and nurture the seeds that He is planting.  We only see a small part of His big picture, and I am thankful to have my own small part within this small part.  

Remembering Genocide and Remembering Rightly

There is no school in Lebanon today.  Workers at the local super market are dressed in black. In general, things around town are different than a normal Friday.  Lebanon is joining the international community in taking a stand in solidarity with global Armenian community to remember the centenary of the Armenian Genocide.  In the spring of 1915 the Ottoman Empire embarked in operations of population evictions, death marches, and mass murder campaigns that would ultimately kill an estimated 1.5 million individuals and catalyze the dispersion of Armenians around the world.  This is not the first time history has experienced ‘crimes against humanity,’ but it is the first time the term was used to describe an historical event.  April 24, 2015 is a day to memorialize the millions of Armenians who suffered loss and lament the evil that humans are capable of inflicting on fellow humans. 

The genocide of 1915 had a worldwide impact as an national exodus sent Armenians to lands across North America, Europe and Asia.  Ruth and I saw evidence this during our honeymoon visit to Penang Island, Malaysia.  Our boutique hotel was located on Armenia Street, named for the Armenians that fled violence to as far away as Southeast Asia.  Masses of Armenians relocated to regions throughout the Middle East in search of safety, with large numbers settling in Beirut, Aleppo and other major Arabic cities.  Lebanon hosts the sixth-largest Armenian community outside of Armenia with nearly a quarter of a million individuals (fully-fledged Lebanese citizens) and all of us residents here are the richer because of it.  Lebanon boasts a wealth of Armenian educational and cultural institutions including primary and secondary schools, universities, seminaries, and conservatories of various kinds.  Ruth and my favorite district in all of Beirut is Burj Hammoud, a predominately Armenian neighborhood with the best shopping, eateries, artisans and craftsman in all the country.  Armenian Christian communities, including the Evangelical Armenian Church, have long been (and still are) a faithful witness of Christ to their neighbors near and far.  Additionally, many social organizations, such as orphanages and elderly are centers, are helping to treat social ills that permeate Lebanese society.  Yet the greatest Armenian contribution to Lebanon is the individuals who serve this country as doctors, professionals, artists, educators, faith workers and many other roles.  My family and I are honored to count them among our special friends, and we enjoy the access they provide to the wonderful Armenian culture. 

Today we somberly remember that the Armenian presence in Lebanon is a direct outcome of brutal hatred and violence.  We attest that the acts of death still linger a century later; however, memory of wrongdoing of any kind presents its own set of dangers and temptations.  Remembering atrocities can incite emotional cries to “never forget, never forgive.”  Though it is a very human sentiment, I believe that we need to remember so as to forgive, and in doing so being able to achieve a type of forgetting.  Theologian Miroslav Volf argues that remembering wrongdoings can be most unhelpful for “in the memory of the other’s transgressions the other is locked in unredemption and we are bound together in a relationship of nonreconciliation.”[i]  Memory of offenses too often prevents us from experiencing the reconciliation that Christ has made possible.  Volf challenges us to remember rightly, a remembering that actually requires a “nonremembering.”  Such a way has been made possible by the God who knows our sins but, in His fullness of forgiveness, ultimately forgets our wrongdoing! (Jer. 31:34)  Through grace by Christ, our offenses are no longer counted against us!  The evils we have committed are never held in consideration or kept on our records; they are finished and forgotten.  Followers of God must likewise strive to pursue a forgiveness to the point of forgetfulness. 

Let me be clear, I do not believe Volf’s notion of “nonremembering” means we no longer acknowledge the historicity of factual events occurred against us, nor does it fail to consider the extent of the harm caused by evil actions.  However, nonremembering means that the fullness of forgiveness is experienced to the extent that it overwhelms any enduring harm from the past; there is no longer any sting of an old wound.  Sometimes Ruth and I experience this in a very simple way when we recall a past argument or dispute.  We remember that we both acted selfishly and were hurtful to one another, yet we cannot for the life of us recall the reason for the disagreement or even what was exactly said in the heat of the moment.  There is a memory that something happened, but it is vague and inconsequential because of our forgiveness to other and the self.  This is sort of forgetfulness is pivotal to our wellbeing on all levels, for as Volf says, “only nonremembering can end the lament over suffering which no thought can think away and no action undo.”[ii]  I understand the desire for memorializing suffering, but I often feel uncomfortable with keeping the past alive so deeply that it kills hope for future reconciliation.  This can be observed in countless contexts; we all do it and a great deal of peace is thwarted by it. 

Even with the aforementioned, I do argue that it is proper, even necessary, to remember the Armenian Genocide in order to experience the ultimate response to the horrific events: forgiveness.  Forgiveness is a destination of a long and painful journey; a journey that took Christ to a fallen world, a cross, and a grave.  We must all be travelers on this road, and remembering holds an important place in this journey.  Volf states, “the memory of sin must be kept alive for a while, as long as it is needed for repentance and transformation to occur.”[iii]  An enduring tragedy of the Armenian Genocide is the official position of the Turkish government (note: not all of the Turkish people) that refuses admittance of the crimes committed by their Ottoman predecessors against millions of Armenian innocents.  This fallacious “nonremembering” that denies genocide ever occurred averts repentance and undermines any prospect for transformative reconciliation. 

Turkey does acknowledge that unfortunate events did bring suffering to Armenians during the events around WWI, but it does not admit to genocide.  There is no joining in the sorrow or regret for one of modern histories most heinous of actions.  As a result, a hundred-old wound is still very much open; the bleeding continues.  It is long overdue for Turkey to recognize the systematic genocide conducted by the Ottoman Empire.  The past cannot be changed but it can be remembered rightly and addressed with humility, honesty and grace. The Armenian Genocide should be remembered April 24 and all days until the healing work of forgiveness mends the wounds of the present, alters the recollections of the past and builds a hope for the future.  Christ achieved such a possibility when he traveled reconciliation’s complete journey.  Let us follow. 

For more information on the topic please refer to the following resources:

BBC World Service, April 24, 2015- Armenia marks centenary of mass killings by Ottoman Turks

The Guardian, April 16, 2015- The Armenian genocide- the Guardian briefing

The Independent, April 23, 2015- Armenian genocide: To continue to deny the truth of this mass human cruelty is close to a criminal lie- Robert Fisk

The Daily Star (Lebanon), April 24, 2015- Burj Hammoud: Lebanon’s Little Armenia

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[i] Volf, Miroslav.  Exclusion and Embrace. (1996)  Abingdon Press: Nashville, TN. 133.

[ii] Ibid 135.

[iii] Ibid 137.

Some thoughts about right hands, left hands and charity

“And when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”  Such a statement should be convicting to the world of Christian poverty alleviation (missions, development, and relief).   Concealment of “good deeds” is not a standard practice of the day.  In fact, we much more prefer the teaching “let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”  We live in a mass-communication, social media-drenched world where newsletters, blog posts, Twitter accounts, Facebook statuses, video presentations and countless other forms of media are used to let the whole world know what our right hand is doing.  Such a tendency is not limited to organizations.  We as individuals love to share what our hand is giving, teaching, painting, designing, treating, building and serving to the poor.  I do not judge the practice of informing; however, we must ponder the value of withholding specifics about what we are doing. 

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus instructs, “when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your giving will be in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.” (Matthew 6:3-4)  This teaching is often taken as a call to personal piety; a command to secrecy so as to avoid becoming like self-righteous hypocrites who publicly broadcast their charity “so that they may be honored by men.” (Matthew. 6:2) No doubt this is major to Christ’s point.  Faith requires good works, (James 2:14-26) yet the ‘what’ of our actions is matched, or perhaps superseded, in importance by the ‘how’ and ‘why’.  I can do a very good deed yet undermine its goodness with a bad method and selfish intention.  Like all things Jesus, he wants us to begin and end our charity with an examination of our own hearts.  However, I believe such a teaching goes beyond our own heart’s sake and considers the practical effectiveness of our giving as well.

Within Jesus’ statement is the implied assumption that followers of God will give to the poor.  He does not say “if you give to the poor” but rather “when you give to the poor.”  In other words, the left hand should know that the right hand is doing something even if it does not know what that something is.  As I am finding in my personal situation, giving is oftentimes less complicated when it is less known.  Over the past four years Syria has descended into a nightmare of war and violence, leaving many dozens of my Syrian relatives displaced.  One would be right to expect that my parents, siblings and I find ways to help; it is what any Christ follower would do.  We desire to “fix” problems for suffering loved-ones, but our limited resources cannot extend to the overwhelming need in front of us.  The reality is some receive more help, some receive less help, and some receive no help.  We risk fracturing relationships if this giving is not navigated wisely. 

Subtle charity is a protective measure to minimize awkwardness, misunderstandings and tensions within highly convoluted poverty contexts.  All conditions of human suffering contain emotional and political fuses (even among blood relatives).  The combination of big need and limited material resources too often ignites aid and development situations, which hardly causes anyone to glorify our father in heaven.  Fortunately there is no shortage of good deeds that remain utterly harmless.  Gestures as simple as a smile, listening ear and encouraging word can shine bright in a place where despair is intense and resources are thin. Even so, we must give to the poor, and we must give materially.  Whether it is on an individual or a collective level, we will be wise to heed the instructions of Christ in practicing subtle giving.  We may actually be surprised to find how effective charity can be when it is removed from the spotlight. 

I wonder what it would look like if Christian organizations gave to the poor in such a way that the left hand does not know what right hand is doing.  What if newsletters provided no statistics, websites offered no testimonies, social media statuses made no pronouncements, videos shared no riveting messages and presentations gave no detail about how the poor are being served?  No doubt many of us in the field would ask, “How will we get donors to support our work?” But will the God who sees what we do in secret and rewards us, not also provide for His work to be done?  We may wonder, “What about our public and open witness of Christ among the poor?”  Will not the recipients of good see what they have received and credit their fortune as an extension of God’s blessing?  Or perhaps we will think, “What of our edification to the global Church.  Shouldn’t they know what we do so that they may be encouraged?”  Surely the Church has faith that Christ’s body is living out scripture’s command to serve the poor and oppressed; this should be assumed.  Perhaps Jesus is telling us to simply concentrate on the serving and let the Holy Spirit do the fundraising, informing and witnessing. 

I do not mean to judge the practices of many organizations and individuals doing excellent work to address human suffering with the compassion of Christ.  My own actions fall far too short of Biblical standard to allow me the license to judge others.  However, when it comes to poverty alleviation, I maintain that the methods of the Sermon on the Mount should be more than just theoretical.  There is a methodology of aid, relief and development that we must consider.  Limiting our exposure on all ends may not lead to a high profile among others, but Jesus has quite a bit to say about that matter.  Perhaps one of the greatest compliments we can receive when serving the poor, as an individual or a collective, is for someone to come alongside us and comment, “Wow, I didn’t realize you do all that!”

And the Nominees for Best Picture are...

The Academy Awards will air this weekend, but I won’t watch.  This should be expected considering I haven’t seen any of the Best Picture nominees (although I have seen the trailers (I’m personally rooting for Selma to take the big honor!)).  I find the awards show more of a bloated, studio-fueled spectacle than an actual celebration of film’s power to energize and inspire.  However, the Oscars do provide a moment to highlight some of cinema’s higher achievements.  I’m certainly not a movie-nut by any measure, but there are a few that have proven to endear and edify.  So here it goes, I present to you the nominees for “Brent’s All-Time Personal Best Picture Award” (in alphabetical order):

Babe

This barnyard fairy tale combines simple storytelling, endearing characters and undeniable sincerity to tell a story that is surprisingly inspiring and deep.  In the form of a humble piglet, Babe reminds us to not settle for what the world expects us to be, but aspire to what the master believes we can be.  When Farmer Hogget gives his timeless “That’ll do pig,” he might as well be saying “Well done good and faithful servant.” 

Broken Trail

Technically it’s a miniseries, not a cinema film.  And technically it isn’t all that great, but I have a soft spot in my heart for westerns and Broken Trail has managed to find it.  The story and acting are little more than satisfactory, but the landscapes are magnificent.  Sometimes, good scenery is all I need to be pleasantly entertained.  Good scenery and Robert Duvall.

Incendies (Canada)

This French-language film dramatizes factual events from the Middle East to deliver a haunting story that will (somehow) leave you both emotionally depleted and surprisingly uplifted.  The content is especially hard to watch in light of the conflicts raging throughout the region, yet this is what makes it so very important and timely.  Few films manage to mix the complexities of war’s death and hope’s life like Incendies.  It’s a tough watch, but it’s a must watch.

Once (Ireland)

Is it a film or is it a soundtrack?  Either way, Once utilizes utter simplicity to create one of modern cinema’s most genuine and heart-felt tellings of a ‘love story.’  The songs will draw you in and hold you for a long while, but it is the sincere portrait of human-connection that will remain when the music fades.

The Shawshank Redemption

It doesn't boast the highest of acting, slickest of scripts, or fanciest of technical execution, but no other film so gracefully weaves all the elements of movie-making into a piece of storytelling like The Shawshank Redemption.  The love-story-as-friendship-story only gets better with time and (my own personal) maturation.  Some call it overrated, but that’s okay; it will keep landing on “best film” lists for centuries to come.

Toy Story

My father took me to a special-preview showing of Toy Story when I was a boy.  I walked into the theater having no idea what to expect and walked out in a state of sheer wonder and delight.  This is the magic that films are supposed to capture.  Though it set new marks in technical achievement, the strength lies in simply telling a story that resonates with all.  Toy Story is not just one of the best films of all time; it’s one of the great moments in entertainment history.

Warrior

Any movie that can make a room full of teenage boys cry is a movie that got something right.  The story centers on an Ultimate Fighting Championship tournament, but it really examines an arena featuring much harder punches: family.  The acting and directing hit all the right marks to show life’s painfully-sweet journey of forgiveness and reconciliation.  Just wait until the closing scene; rough masculinity has never rendered such tender softness.

And grace shall lead us home!

 She’s fourth-generation Dar El Awlad on one side of her family and third-generation on the other, but the important thing is this: Yasmine Joy is home!  After a very long seven days, Ruth and I are thankful and relieved to have our daughter with us in full health. It has been a rainy winter’s week around here but this little girl is rays of sunshine!

When it comes to Dar El Awlad, Yasmine is only the most recent of many hundreds of children who have arrived over the past near-70 years to call this place a home.  It is a special thought that her parents, grandparents, great grandparents and a host of other blood relatives can share the claim.  The homeyness goes beyond blood connection; however, and we are surrounded by a community of many dozens ready to play their part in fulfilling the proverb that “it takes a village to raise a child.”  What a blessing that God has placed us where we are, yet we regret the distance that separates us from many loved once.  Surely the future holds meaningful moments for Yasmine to discover her global network of special friends and family.

After more than seven years of contributing to Dar El Awlad’s mission or raising children, Ruth and I suddenly find ourselves with our very own.  This is naturally a ‘unique case,’ but the hope for Yasmine is the same hope for every child that passes through the ministry: to experience the transforming power of Jesus Christ so that they are enabled to give hope to others.  It is not about religion, doctrine or sect, but rather the discovery of each individual’s true identity in the loving heart of God. 

The 4^th century Church Father St. John Chrysostom, despite never having children of his own, has left a rich collection of biblical teachings on the ultimate, heaven-centered goal of child rearing.  He emphatically heartens parents and caregivers to “seek not how (a child) shall enjoy a long life here, but how he shall enjoy a boundless life hereafter.”  In language that relevantly resonates even centuries down the line, Chrysostom charges us with an earnest plea: “Raise up an athlete for Christ!”[i]  This is what we aim to do as Dar El Awlad as well as The Hamouds.

We are thrilled with our little girl.  Mommy is deepening a love that has been growing for many months.  Daddy is often at a loss of words, but never at a loss of pride and joy in creation’s theatrics that continue to play out in front of him.  Our supreme prayer for Yasmine is the same for every child: that Christ may dwell in their hearts through faith- that they, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that they may be filled with all the fullness of God! (Epesians 3:17-18).  Amen!

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[i] Chrysostom, John. “An address on Vainglory and the Right Way for Parents to Bring Up Their Children”

Ruth and her special works of art (I like them both, but the one she's holding is my favorite).

Getting settled into home 

Oh dear, we're already being targeted by marketers.