tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32493507759527795322024-03-08T13:43:42.347-08:00The Ponderings of a Wandering PastorMel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-10126824926946505532012-01-31T13:28:00.001-08:002012-01-31T13:28:52.513-08:00"There is not a truth existing which I fear, or would wish unknown to the whole world." <br />
Thomas JeffersonMel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-60964837072796429822012-01-31T13:27:00.000-08:002012-01-31T13:27:50.102-08:00My Life with the UnitariansMy interest in and experience with the Unitarian Universalist Church has been an ongoing and interesting one. While in seminary and pastoring a church one of my members asked me to join her in marriage to a Unitarian man, and to have his pastor share in the ceremony. I found the UU minister quite open and cooperative and cxame from that experience with a postitive felling about the denomination. <br />
In about 2003 one of our PET volunteers, Lee Jones, told me of a forum group in which he participated at his UU church, and mentioned the kinds of speakers they had. I was particularly interested in one and Lee invited me to attend the gathering held each Sunday morning at 9 a.m. I became "hooked" on the Forum and have been there each Sunday since, dropping Barbara off at her church and returning there fo rthe 11 a.m. worship service. <br />
In the seven years I have participated I have sat at the feet of a wide array of speakers from this university town. The presentations have challenged my thinking, enriched my mind, and deepened my spirit. The topics have enabled me to hear from those leading in the political, business, intellectual, spiritual and artistic interests of my town. I can honestly say that there has not been one program that was not well worth hearing. I trust that was also true for the several programs I ahve been askd to present. <br />
The UU church has played a long and admirable place in our world's history, with its members including such as Thomas Jefferson, Charles Darwin, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Susan B. Anthony, Dorothea Dix, P.T. Barnum, Abigail Adams, Whitney Young, Clara Barton, Beatrix Potter, Louisa May Alcott, Dr. Albert Schweitzer, Alexander Graham Bell, Joseph Priestly, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Frank Lloyd Wright and Adlai Stevenson. <br />
Univeraslist churches were first formed around 1790 to counter the widespread belief that only a select few would be saved. Universalists believed in "univeral salvation" because they thought a merciful God would not condemn anyone to eternal punishment. <br />
The UU Church has no creeds or dogma, but share seven basic principles:<br />
<ol><li>The inherent worth and dignity of every person</li>
<li>Justice, equity and compassion in human relations</li>
<li>Acceptance of one another ad encouragement to spiritual gwoth in the congregation</li>
<li>A free and resonsible search for truth and meaning</li>
<li>The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within the congregation and society at large</li>
<li>The goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all</li>
<li>Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part</li>
</ol>A UU church bulletin contains this message: "If our principles relect your values, we invite you to consider becoming part of our church community."Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-38373194421720922962011-12-08T13:57:00.001-08:002011-12-08T13:57:30.350-08:00"Skins may differ, but affection dwells in white and black the same." - William CowperMel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-71882251966655526892011-12-08T13:56:00.000-08:002011-12-08T13:56:37.570-08:00My Two Years as a Tri-Delt<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I ponder 86 years of living I realize that I have had a wide variety of experiences that have my life highly interesting. One of those was the fact that I lived for two years in the Delta Delta Delta sorority house at 901 Richmond in Columbia. In the late summer of 1941, with $250 in the bank and a $250 Sears Roebuck Scholarship, I hitched a ride to Columbia two weeks before school started to find a job to earn living money as a student. I found a rooming house and began to walk the streets asking for work. I wandered into what I came to know as “Greek Town” and the maid at the Tri-Delt Sorority house hired me to mow the lawn and cultivate the shrubs. Apparently I did a good job, for she then had me do som painting and other odd jobs. The housemother came and asked me if I would like to move in as house-boy. I would live in the basement, fire the furnace and water heater, make salads, wash dishes, serve meals, and do whatever needed to be done. That meant free room and board, so I took the job. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The maid, Hattie Miller, and the cook, Beulah Gray, were black persons. I had grown up in an all white area of Southwest Missouri and had seen black persons only at a distance. I will always be grateful to both of them, for they were wonderful persons and treated me with love and respect. It was my privilege to have a close relationship with them and their families for the two years I worked there. This, I think, colored my relationship with persons we now call African American.</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once the girls move in I was told that I was expected to help serve lemonade and pastries at “rush parties.” I had no idea what they were, but I put on my little white monkey coat and followed directions. Another student, Toby, was there to help me. Several parties a day were held and we began to run out of drinking straws. Beulah and Hattie were gone, so Toby and I began to wash the straws between servings. But some had lipstick on them that would not come off, so we took a pair of scissors and cut them off. When they became too short to reach the top of the glass we discarded them. About that time Beulah came back and saw what we were doing. First she rolled with laughter, then cussed us out, and sent Toby off to the drugstore for more straws. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Living with 65 college girls overhead was a very new kind of experience for me. I had one brother and no sisters. I had grown up poor and they were all from affluent homes. But it was not their lifestyle that shocked me so much as the fact that they wasted so much food. They wanted and got the best, but often just nibbled at it and we threw it away. I started taking them the smaller steaks and keeping the big one for myself until Beulah caught me. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hairpins were in vogue then, and they kept me running in and out of the girls bathrooms. Each of the two dorm floors had one bathroom with a “gang” shower and six laboratories. Hairpins would get into the drains, clog with hair, and Hattie would say, “Melvin, there are two clogged drains on the second floor and three on the third.” After a bit of experience, I had my response down to a routine. I grabbed my bucket and two wrenches, yelled, “Man on second,” and went to work. In a couple of minutes I could remove the catch pipe, dump the hairpins and gunk, and put it all back in order. I did have some interesting times when girls did not hear me call out, “Man on second.” </span></div><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I had a nice little apartment, the best of food and a four hour a day job at the University <span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">bookstore for spending money, making 35 cents per hour. What more could one want? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-50665398986389319952011-11-28T13:03:00.003-08:002011-11-28T13:03:21.059-08:00"If a thousand old beliefs were ruined in our march to truth we must still march on." - Stopford A Brooke.Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-88889374310579144622011-11-28T13:02:00.000-08:002011-11-28T13:02:12.761-08:00Theological (?) Statements I Decry<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I grew up in a very conservative “Bible-Belt” community in southern Missouri. As I matured my common-sense approach to life caused me to begin to rebel against many affirmations I heard about religious views. College education and seminary added to my resistance against statements that are so often rather freely quoted as truth, when they are far from that and are in reality heretical to logical thinking and my understanding of Biblical truths. They can also be spiritually damaging to those who freely accept them as truth. I will list a few such statements:</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God spared his life because He had something special for him to do</i>. This is frequently heard after some disaster such as a plane wreck, when several or many die, but one or a few remain alive. The logical assumption then is that God has nothing for the others to do, so he caused them to be killed. I reject that. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Your little boy was so cute that God wanted him up in heaven so He took his life</i>. A young family with a three year old son joined our church – new Christians and new members. Soon after that they were asphalting the street in front of their home and there was a long pile of gravel in the middle of the street as part of the process. Their little son had great fun running over that gravel, and was doing so when a neighbor came along in his car and ran over and killed the boy. Several well-meaning people used the phrase at the beginning of this paragraph to “comfort” them. They left the church and never returned, nor would I have.</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is the Word of God.</i> The way this phrase is used and interpreted seems to imply that God reached down at some time years ago and dictated the words of scripture in some intimate way that gives each word a special and literal meaning. I with the reader would say something like this: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“These are the words of a few dozen persons, written thousands of years ago, by men (no women) who lived in a world they understood to be three-layered, with a heaven above and a hell below. Almost 2,000 years ago they were selected from any such writings by men (no women) who argued for three years about their authenticity. These words are useful to us today as we seek to develop our own understanding of our relationship to the Eternal.” </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Daddy is up in heaven now looking down on all of us.</i> How often we hear this in a time of death and a funeral. My first reaction is that if that literally so I’ve seen many occasions when Daddy would not be very happy about what he saw the family doing. Whatever the afterlife is like it is not a utopia just avove the fluffy white clouds through which we fly jet airplanes and shoot space ships, with Daddy snooping on us as we prepare to meet him there and explain what he saw. But one does not try to explain that at the graveside. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What do you think?</span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-47329355545219799332011-11-23T12:20:00.001-08:002011-11-23T12:20:38.384-08:00"Got no check books, got no banks. Still I'd like to express my thanks - I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night." Irving BerlinMel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-40324241706473595742011-11-23T09:52:00.000-08:002011-11-23T09:52:44.943-08:00Saying Thank You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">This morning I took some recyclables to the community site with the 20-foot long bins. A truck driver pulled in with an empty unit, and waited as I got out of his way. Before he left I climbed up on the truck step and thanked him for the good job he and others did to keep out city more clean, and to help the environment. He was most appreciative. We had a short visit, and I left with both of us, I think, felling a bit better about life. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For many years I have found it important and rewarding to me to personally thank others for their good works, embarrassing my family at times as I engage strangers in public places. I live such a blessed life and have a desire to express my gratitude to those who help make it so. Secker said, “He enjoys much who is thankful for the little things; a grateful mind is both a great and a happy mind.” </span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For about 20 years I was on the international boards of some major mission agencies, such as Heifer Project and Habitat for Humanity. When we had a large dinner meeting in a hotel dining room I would, after the meal, walk boldly in the kitchen and dishwashing area, and in a very loud voice so all could hear, say something like this, “I want you to know who you have been helping tonight. Habitat for Humanity, who helps the poor of the world build houses for themselves, has been meeting in your dining room. Your wonderful meal and service has helped us to do our work well, and I want to thank you for all you have fed. You have helped the poor get more homes. Thank you again!” By that time I was usually being escorted out of the kitchen, but I left behind a group of hard working people who had received acknowledgement for their labors. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In airports when I see some lonesome soul pushing a broom and a push cart, cleaning the waiting area, I go over and visit with them a few minutes, finding<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>out a bit about their life, and thanking them for keeping the area so neat. It seems to me that after that I notice a bit more push in their broom and a bit more smile in their face. </span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Much of my work at PET is sitting at the computer writing personalized thank-you letters to each donor. We receive about 20 donations by mail a week, and I write each one a thank-you letter, including some recent reports and photos about PET. This is not only a pleasant and proper thing to do, but is one of the key ingredients of successful fund raising. I now have name recognition with PET and donors especially appreciate a personal letter from me. Without those donors there would be no PET, and I want each of them to know they are appreciated. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This morning at the grocery store I was the only one in line at the check-out. I visited with the young woman clerk, a college student, and asked about her dreams for her life. As I left I said, “You are an excellent worker here and I know you will do good in the rest of your life. Thank you for your good work.” My parents taught me to say “thank you” 80 years ago, and I still find it a proper and satisfying thing to do. </span><br />
</div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-26560677941150152592011-10-28T14:53:00.005-07:002011-10-28T14:53:37.579-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"Destiny is carried out - fate is suffered." - J. Christopher Herald</div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-65275097369135037182011-10-28T14:53:00.003-07:002011-10-28T14:53:02.997-07:00Olga<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The greatest tragedy in the world, century after century, is not the wars or acts of nature that kill and destroy humankind and the ecology. The greatest tragedy in the world is the loss of human potential through greed, neglect, and the grievous acts of fellow human beings. Bob Pearce, one president of World Vision, said, “I pray that my heart may be broken by that which breaks the heart of God.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every child born of God comes into this world with unique gifts and graces, with potentials far beyond our fondest imaginations, but most go to their graves with their music still half in them. The heart of God must surely be broken. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Olga is so far such a person. I met Olga in Antigua, Guatemala, at a distribution of wheelchairs for the poor. Olga is the kind of person that folks notice when she comes into a room. She is attractive, vivacious, outgoing, personable, and she is wheelchair bound. If you were looking for a person to hire as a receptionist or other staff member she is one you would want to interview. At the wheelchair distribution she was a great help, remembering names, comforting those waiting in line with disabled family members, and making sure things went smoothly. She is a people person. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I went in the van to take Olga home I saw a bigger picture of her life and problems. She lives with her parents in a barrio built on a very steep hill. The four-wheel-drive van had great difficulty negotiating the rocks and ledges to her house. The house is a dirt-floored rental house built in a unique way. Apparently the builder planned to put wooden floors in the house but never did. There is a concrete threshold a foot high between every room, meaning that Olga is confined to one room or has to be lifted over each threshold. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The house is very small, almost barren of furniture, and unpainted. Well-meaning US friends have provided paint for it, but the family is afraid to paint it, lest the owner raise the rent when they see the nicer looking house, not an uncommon practice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, there sits Olga, born of God with great gifts and potential, but trapped in poverty and the circumstances of her life. Barbara and I and others have helped her begin to get an education, but the very act of getting to school is a major task. At age 30-plus she has finished the equivalent of high school and has done some college work. She has many folks who care about her but so far we have been unable to put together a “package” that would equip Olga to achieve her potential. We just know it would not be there in that dirt-floored, threshold blocked, unpainted little house at the bottom of that forbidding hill. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What is Olga’s potential and God-intended destiny – to be a doctor, nurse, teacher, business leader, florist, secretary? That is yet to be discovered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We know that life can be better for the billions of Olga’s in the world. I have seen mission projects and programs that literally turn life around for such persons. Nationwide television recently featured Beatrice, the “poster girl” for Heifer International. About 14 years ago the family of Beatrice, living in rural Uganda, then too poor to feed their children adequately or send them to school, was given a goat. The goat had kids, gave milk and became the source of new health and income. Beatrice started to school, did exceptionally well, and with the help of Heifer is now enrolled in a major US university, making top grades. A goat is probably not the answer to Olga’s problems. What is? Who is? </span></div></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-77348722194611748092011-10-27T08:10:00.000-07:002011-10-27T08:10:16.102-07:00"The words of the prophets <br />
are written on the subway walls<br />
and tenement halls<br />
and whispered <br />
in the sounds of silence."<br />
Paul SimonMel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-54435016166850809372011-10-27T08:02:00.001-07:002011-10-27T08:02:35.903-07:00In His Steps<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">During my childhood our home had a very few books, but one that deeply impressed me was “In His Steps,” a best-selling book written by Charles M. Sheldon in 1896. It was a fictional but profound story about a local church whose congregation agreed, for one year, to make no individual or corporate decisions without first asking and obeying the question, “What would Jesus do in this situation?” The story unfolded into a dramatic and profound change in the social, business and community life of that town. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the sermon that inspired the challenge, the minister included these words: “Is it possible for the church to sing with exact truth, ‘Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow thee.’ If we can sing that truly, then we may claim discipleship. But if our definition of being a Christian is simply to enjoy the privileges of worship, be generous at no expense to ourselves, have a good, easy time surrounded by pleasant friends and comfortable things, live respectfully and at the same time avoid the world’s great stress of sin and trouble because it is too much pain to bear it – if this is our definition of Christianity then we are a long way from following the steps of Him who trod the way with groans and tears and sobs of anguish for a lost humanity; who sweat, as it were, great drops of blood, who cried on the upreared cross, ‘My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?’ Are we ready to make and live a new discipleship? Are we ready to reconsider out definition of Christian?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In His Steps </i>is about a group of people who made and lived a new discipleship. One hundred years later grandson Garrett W. Sheldon, in 1997, wrote another best seller, “What would Jesus Do?” The writing inspired a number of religious knickknacks, using the “WWJD?” symbol, and at least some discussion within theological circles. Included in the grandson’s book was this: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I believe the time has come for us to ask ourselves some hard questions. In this self-serving age when most of us are reluctant to forgo any luxury or desire, what, on a practical level, have we denied ourselves? What cross have we borne for Christ’s sake? What suffering have we willingly endured? God’s wake-up call for some of us might be to put aside an expensive vacation or new car and follow Him in giving to those in need. For others it might be to sacrifice our social standing in order to speak out against moral compromise. The ‘cross’ you are called to bear will probably be different from mine and from that of our neighbor’s. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you are a Christian you have been called to embark on an incredible journey – How many are willing to accept that calling? How many would rather stay comfortably asleep, untouched by the world that is dying around us?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some once said to a friend, “Christianity has failed. It has made no real or significant impact upon the hatred, poverty and degradations of the world. After 2,000 years of effort, it has failed.” The wise friend replied, “No, Christianity has not failed. It has yet to be tried.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today’s Church, I might note, does not want to hear or read sermons like those of the Sheldons. Prophetic preaching and writing is cast aside in favor of popular and “feel good” preaching. Sin is a world verboten from the pulpit in today’s popular churches. Clarence Jordan once said, “We will just worship the hind legs off of Jesus, but we won’t do a thing He says.” Jesus is praised, but not followed. To do that would take us places we do not want to go. </span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-35166514328236106402011-10-25T08:36:00.001-07:002011-10-25T08:36:20.393-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“How can we profess faith in God’s word and then refuse to let it inspire and direct our thinking, our activity, our decisions, and our responsibilities toward one another?” – Pope John Paul II<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-27838238765716847322011-10-25T08:35:00.001-07:002011-10-25T08:35:43.748-07:00The Faithful Thing<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In these times when prices of many items are sky-rocketing, and checkbooks and credit cards are hard hit, how do we manage to help our sisters and brothers in need around the world, who live of less than a dollar a day, and for whom prices are also rising?</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We follow God’s plan for such times, as revealed in Scripture, in the early Church, in Christian tradition, and in examples of faithful Christians, our mentors. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The members of the early Church (Acts 2) also lived in hard times. But seeing the needs of others around them they “sold all their possessions and gave to anyone, as he had ned.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can do that. It is the faithful thing to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the second century, the church had a rule: “If your neighbor is hungry and has no food at all, an you have none to spare, then you fast for three days and give your neighbor that food.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can do that. It is the faithful thing to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">John Wesley had these rules:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Work hard, and make all you can, as long as you do not hurt someone in so doing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Live simply, and save all you can</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Give all you can, to help those who are less fortunate.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can do that. It is a faithful thing to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some years ago, I went on a Church World Service tour in Central America. On the trip I had stopped the van to take a photo of two girls pushing back the green scum on a hog pond to take to their home two kilometers away. Eight kilometers down the road I took a photo of three girls pumping cool, clean water from a well CWS had drilled in a village. It was a vivid contrast. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I showed these two slides to a group in a church at St. Charles, MO. A lady named Holt came up and asked,” What does a well cost?” I told her that where I was then working, in Dominican Republic, a well cost about $1,000. She replied, “I will send you a check for $1,000 tomorrow. I have just retired from teaching and planned to go on a two week vacation to celebrate, but I think it is more important to stay home and think of people drinking cool, clean water than it is for me to go to Hawaii.” She sent the check and the well was drilled. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can do that. It is the faithful thing to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can look at the needs of others and balance them against our own wants. The price of this lady’s trip to Hawaii was that an entire village would go without potable water. She was unwilling to pay that price. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can pass up paying another pair of shoes and feed five hungry children for a month. We can pass up a cruise and enable a family now living in a shack to have a decent home. We can drink one less soft drink a day and put a Nicaraguan student through high school. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can do that, and things like that. It is the faithful, biblical and logical thing to do. Christians at their best have always acted like that, right? </span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-53182525931065741022011-10-24T09:32:00.002-07:002011-10-24T09:32:54.970-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The difference between a rich man and a poor man is this – the former eats when he pleases, and the latter when he has food.” – Sir W. Raleigh</span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-15199069514667827822011-10-24T09:32:00.000-07:002011-10-24T09:32:10.898-07:00Eating Like John the Baptist<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A recent field day at the South Farms of the University of Missouri in Columbia featured on its menu of offerings the opportunity to sample fried crickets. I well remember that as a child in Sunday school I read about John the Baptist, forerunner and cousin of Jesus, who lived in the wilderness and ate locusts and wild honey. My classmates and I approved of the wild honey, but gagged at the thought of eating grasshoppers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Insects for human consumption are being considered for space travelers. Life support systems must be compact and light weight. Waste materials must be kept to a minimum, and anything that cannot be recycled must be returned to earth. An article by Gene R. DeFoliart, professor of entomology at the University of Wisconsin, reports that a closed system for space using the small beetle, “Segobium paniceum” has been proposed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The natives of Algeria, according to the article, use locusts extensively. A 1991 report states that around Tougurt “every house and tent has prepared its store of locusts, on the average about 200 kilo for each tent.” In the Ksours of the Quad-Souf some 60 camel loads (9,000 kilos) are accumulated daily as a valuable source of food for the poor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The locusts are first prepared by cooking them in salt water, then drying them in the sun. One writer suggests that they have a shrimp-like taste. A Peace Corps friend of mine who worked in Africa survived on a diet that included insects, and reported their having a nut-like flavor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A wide variety of insects are used for food around the world, with the literature reporting them as “termites, locusts, grasshoppers, caterpillars, or just insects,” More than 200 species are known to be consumed – fresh, fried, or dried. DeFoliart article reports that in a 1974 survey in Mexico City, in which 12,300 people were interviewed, 93 percent considered that insects are “in the future” and that commercially produced insect products should be encouraged. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Scientist who test insects for nutritional value discover what birds have known for a long time. Nine Mexican insect species tested to have a caloric value superior to that of corn, which is known as a high-energy grain. In Zaire the crude protein of dried caterpillars averaged 64 percent. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Insects appear to be headed toward receiving a much higher status in the scheme of things. The Food Insects Research and Development Project was organized at the University of Wisconsin in 1986. Its aim is “to stimulate a wider awareness among food and agricultural scientist, government agencies, and the public that insects are a food resource that warrants serious investigation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Insects, Dr. DeFoliart suggests, offer a number of attributes, such as high food conversion efficiency as compared with traditional meat animals. They eat a wide variety of organic substances not efficiently used in conventional agriculture – wood eating termites, for example. They produce without the need for additional arable land, fertilizers, irrigation, herbicides, pesticides or expensive equipment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Can we envision spiced Mormon cricket as an appetizer, a caterpillar burger as the main entrée, and chocolate covered ants for dessert? The connection between John the Baptist and travelers in space may be closer than we think. </span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-7745843530584293292011-10-21T07:50:00.002-07:002011-10-21T07:50:46.105-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I say that it touches a man that his blood is sea water and his tears are salt, that the seed of his loins is scarcely different from the same cells in a seaweed, and that the stuff of his bones are like coral made. I say that a physical and biologic law lies down with him, and wakes when a child stirs in the womb, and that the sap in a tree, uprushing in the spring, and the smell of the loam, and the path of the sun in the heaven, these are facts of first importance to his mental conclusions, and that a man who goes in no consciousness of them is a drifter and a dreamer, without a home or any contact with reality.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Donald Culross Pettie</span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-47941155398429118662011-10-21T07:50:00.000-07:002011-10-21T07:50:12.902-07:00Guardians of the Places Where We LIve<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Dateline: A home in the woods of southern Connecticut</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Bioregional.” That is the word that is “in” in environmenatalism. It is a good word. It means that if we want to live a healthy life, and to insure a healthy life for the countless generations to follow, we must become guardians of the places where we live. This vision recognizes and celebrates our local connections with land, plants, animals, rivers, lakes and air, as well as our human community. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This vision affirms the statement made in 1854 by Chief Seattle, that “Every part of the earth is sacred. Every single pine needle, every shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing, every humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of our race. You are part of the earth, and earth is part of you.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You do not weave the web of life, you are merely a strand in it. Whatever you do to the web you do to yourself. You may think you own the land. You do not. It is God’s. The earth is precious to God and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on the Creator.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This vision shares the insights of Liberty Hyde Bailey, written in 1915: “So bountiful hath ben the earth and so securely have we drawn from its substance, that we have taken it all for granted as if it were only a gift, and with little care or conscious thought of the consequences of our use of it; nor have we very much considered the essential relation that we bear to it as living parts of the vast creation.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The sacredness of the earth is intrinsic and inherent. It lies in our necessary relationship and in the duty imposed upon us to have dominion, and to exercise ourselves even aginst our own interests. We may not waste that which is not ours. To live in sincere relations with the company of created things and with conscious regard for the support of all persons now and yet to come, must be the essence of righteousness.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thomas Berry reminds us today that we are earth people. Political boundaries, devised by humans to allocate land ownership and legal responsibilities, have kept us from being connected to the earth. We tend to see our responsibilities ending at our property lines. The bioregional vision brings us back to the reality that our lives are joined in a living wholeness with all species of life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The vision, says Berry, “… teaches us to see our continuity with the indigenous humand cultures who have loved these home places for thousands of years. Bioregionalism teaches us to craft life to the attributes of our special place. This leap changes our imagination, loyalties and action.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A couple dozen of us gathered at a Connecticut woods home to plan and further the work of the North American Conference on Christianity and ecology. The mission statement of the NACCE state that its purpose is “to elucidate Christianity’s inherent ecological dimension.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The home of our host and hostess for the weekend illustrates some of the complexities of the problem. This lovely home has no flowers, shrubs or garden because an overpopulation of deer will immediately consume such plants. As natural predators have been removed from the woods the deer population has moved rapidly upward. Our hostess reported that deer confront her on her lawn and stomp their feet at her, challenging her right to live on their turf. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The environmental challenge is a spiritual one, and the Church should lead the way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-3932541280306668552011-10-19T08:47:00.003-07:002011-10-19T08:47:11.806-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, Adam was gardener, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And God who made him sees, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That half a gardener’s work</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is done upon his knees,.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So when your work is finished,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You can wash your hands and pray, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the glory of the garden,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That it may not pass away.” </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-</span><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Rudyard Kiplin</span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-24116287980507594812011-10-19T08:46:00.000-07:002011-10-19T08:46:03.963-07:00I Live in the Garden of Eden<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The following post was written earlier in the season. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rumble of thunder came from the southwest, and the weather channel verified that a prairie thunderstorm was within an hour of Columbia. I slipped on my garden shoes and went out to set the four eggplant plants fresh from the farmer’s market. On the way back after the setting I took out my pocketknife and cut three large heads of broccoli for Barbara to put into the freezer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Four kinds of lettuce and two varieties of spinach have been producing crisp salads for several weeks, with some to share with neighbors. Asparagus was first to arrive at the table, then rhubarb and radishes. Strawberries are picked daily. Raspberries and blackberries have lost their blossoms and are plumping for harvest. Potatoes are in bloom. Sugar snap peas mix with broccoli and a bit of meat for a stir-fry. Cabbage is heading, and tomatoes are galf ball size. Green beans are climbing their pole trellis. Two trees are so laden with apples that supports will need to be added under some limbs. Melons, cucumbers and squash are heading for each other in the usual space-war they have in my small garden. Onions, scallions and garlic add their scent to the miraculous mix of mealtime medley. Add to that a large array of annual and perennial flowers, shrubs and plants, and a fair selection of birds, including our favorites, two house wrens, and I do feel that I have a right to the claim that I live in the Garden of Eden. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I maintain that Good intends for us to live in a garden – to grow, tend and enjoy one. It is sad to note that so many folkds deny themselves of that heritage and right and allow others to have that pleasure on their behalf. As I travel I see home and home where there is no garden in a sunlit space crying out for productivity. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My garden is a combination of the “square-foot garden,” the raised garden, and the composting garden. Our soil is heavy gumbo, requiring large amounts of compost (from clippings and leaves) and some horse manure from a nearby stable. I even clamim some clippings and leaves from nearby neighbors who set them out for trash pickup. I seldom pick up a hoe, mulching everything down with clippings, straw or compost. Little fertilizer is needed with fertile soil. Tomato worms are picked off by hand, and organic chemicals control cabbage loopers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many benefits are mine because of our garden. The first is spiritual. To co-create with God is a rich blessing. I have never lost the excitement of seeing a bean plant burst through the soil. There is a deep mystery as to how the pole bean plant discovers and reaches for the trellis. Wes Jackson says that the genetic information stored in that bean seed, if it were typed out on paper, would fill a huge room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The second benefit is emotional. Although I am retired my volunteer work on international boards causes me to spend day after day in “heavy” meetings, and I leave emotionally spent. But I go back home to my garden and there the world comes back into perspective. There is something about being surrounded by the creative work of God that is reassuring, and that announces to my soul that all is well in the world. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are also physical benefits. Anyone can garden, even it if it is just a flowerpot. Nursing homes are beginning to enable residents to have small garden plots on their own. Pharmacies do not sell garden seeds, for they know that the more people garden the less medication they will need. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Other benefits include the feeling of self-satisfaction one has by producing for oneself. Gardening is environmentally helpful as energy is not needed to ship food long distances. Food is fresh and one knows what chemicals have been used. Gardening is a neighborly thing to do. When we are gone our neighbors harvest our produce for their own use. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A soft rain is now falling. My eggplants have been baptized by God herself, and I live in the Garden of Eden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-3938275518186047662011-10-17T11:55:00.001-07:002011-10-17T11:55:39.490-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"A man, to be greatly good... must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own." - Percy Bysshe Sheley</div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-10532814765715723452011-10-17T11:54:00.001-07:002011-10-17T12:00:40.846-07:00My Cardboard Brothers and Sisters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I've met them in many countries, these cardboard brothers and sisters of mine. We seldom spoke to each other, maybe just a nod, a universal language. Some were embarrassed by their situation, as was I, realizing that members of my human family were forced to live in dire circumstances. <br />
In San Jose, Costa Rica, where we were attending a language school, we saw him every morning on our way to classes. He lay asleep alongside a vacant building in the main part of town. His house was very simple - a flattened cardboard box beneath him and one above, pulled like a blanket over him. His bare, swollen and scared feet tuck out beneath, and the hand of the arm that served as a pillow stuck out from the other end of the cardboard blanket. I never saw his face, but if I had it would have been the face of one whose life had become as cardboard, rejected and piled alongside a building, to one day be picked up and hauled away. And who will be there to say, as he is buried, that his life, like his cardboard home, once contained something valued by society? And who will be there to say that it is still valued by the Father of my brother?<br />
In New York City my brother had builit a rather nice house of flattened cardboard boxes, in an abandoned lot behind an abandoned building in an abandoned part of the city. It was all of cardboard - the roof, the walls, the floor and a door. It even had two rooms. Why two rooms I do not know, except that it gives a man a feeling of pride to have a two room home. <br />
It was not a bad house, until the rains and the cold came. Then it would begin to fall apart one piece at a time. First the roof, from the weight of the water. Then one wall, and then another, until it was a soggy mess, lying on the ground. Few would know that it was ever a house. And alongside it lay its builder, in a drunken stupor, his house and his dreams in a shamble. Few passing by would know that he, too, was something and somebody of value and use. His life had been like his cardboard house, falling apart one piece at a time, valued until no longer useful, then cast off. <br />
In Haiti it was a small little village of cardboard houses, perched atop a craggy and isolated hill, for it was a leper village. I stumbled upon this "suburb of shame" (shame on a world that still allows this happen) as I took an early morning walk while working in Haiti for Habitat for Humanity. Here in tiny houses made of cardboard, plastic and tin lived six or eight families, members of each showing severe signs of leprosy. As long as my mind remains alert I shall always remember those dear sisters and brothers, cast aside by society as their fingers began to rot like the cardboard of their decaying houses. <br />
I frequently take flattened cardboard boxes to the local civic recycling center, where they are baled together and made again into useful items. We receive new boxes that are stamped "Made of Recycled Materials." Is it no the task of our society to do just that to our cardboard sisters and brothers, before it is too late? </div>Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-61961585402930718732011-10-13T08:42:00.001-07:002011-10-13T08:44:46.608-07:00"Man rises higher in the scale when he comes to look upon his whole community as his family." - Mohandas K. GandhiMel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-51515697483756417542011-10-13T08:41:00.000-07:002011-10-13T08:43:37.323-07:00My Bus BrotherOn a crowded bus in San Jose, Costa Rica, March, 1986: <br />
My brother and I rode together for many blocks, our hands grasping the overhead rail of the swaying bus. His hands were thick with the calluses of hard work, with broken nails and a missing finger. His arms were deeply tanned and scarred. The top of his head came to a bit above my shoulder, and our bodeis frequently touched as we sought to keep our balance on turns. We had never met before, and will likely never meet again on this Earth. Our only conversation was a simple "Bueno dia" and a few words about the weather as I sought to practice the Spanish language I had come to Costa Rica to learn. <br />
As we rode I put together his story in my mind. He had been born into a poverty in rural Coasta Rica when I was about ten years old. He married a senorita from a neighboring community and they began to raise corn, beans and children. His farm was too small, and the competition from imported corn and beans was too severe. They were forced from the land and moved in a barrio in San Jose. Two more children were born for a total of five. Tiwce dirt-floored lean-to's of tin and tar paper were addded to their small house. A simple wire provided electricity for one light bulb and a radio. A home-made mud stove with space for two cooking pots stood in the corner of the room used as a kitchen, burning the pruned coffee plant wood brought home by a son. <br />
His job at the sawmill paid the equivalent of about $2.50 US a day. The last child was born with a birth defect and the mother cannot work. My brother has a third grade education and both his sons have had to quit school at the age of 12 to help support the family. One works on a coffee plantation, pruning the plants for $1 a day, while the other washes dishes at a restaurant for a similiar wage. With a family income of about $900 a year for the support of seven persons, they live with pride, dignity and poverty. <br />
The blue jeans he has one today, scurbbed clean, pressed, and with many patches, are one of the two paris he owns. The other he reserves for church and special occasions. Each night his wife washes and irons dry his work pair. His father was poor, he is poor, and his children will be poor. No amount of hard work has changed that, nor will it change it. <br />
Beside him I stand - educated, affluent, and with children who are educated and affluent. I have money in the bank, a more than adequate home, and a secure future. Had he been born in a farmhouse in Missouri, and I been born in a farmhouse in Costa Rica, he would be me, and I would be him - and we would still be brothers. <br />
A Jewish proverb asks the question: "<em>When is it the light of day? Is it when we can see a camel coming and know it is a camel? Is it when we see a tree and know it is an olive tree? When is the light of day</em>?" The sage answered<em>: "It is the light of day when you can see someone coming and know that they are your brother or sister</em>."Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249350775952779532.post-17843936673827639712011-10-12T11:02:00.001-07:002011-10-12T11:02:58.648-07:00"He prayeth well who loveth well, both man and bird and beast." - Samuel Taylor Coleridge.Mel Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03304880505246891392noreply@blogger.com0