Baltimore

I was excited to visit the city of The Wire we got the train from New York City to Baltimore as we arrived into Baltimore through the North of the City it looked worse than Flint or Detroit, burnt out houses, graffiti over everything, rubbish flying around and empty streets apart from the odd beaten up car. The other reason that there was a level of anticipation for our trip was that there had been riots over the city the same week of our arrival, that sounded and felt very similar to the London riots in 2011.

We met Revd. Jim Hamilton of Church on the Square at the station and he drove us through Baltimore to the central east side which is where his house is and church also. As we drove through he streets we saw the Projects where The Wire was filmed and the central office buildings - it was slightly weird but also slightly exciting.

Here are some of my reflections:

1. Small town: Several people said to me that Baltimore is a city that has a small town mentality, and I can certainly relate to that in my experience. As I walked the neighborhood with Jim people stopped waved and chatted (I partly think this is down to Jim’s charisma but not exclusively). The deeper thought I had was whether it felt like that because it is a deeply divided community, with the African American community separated from the White American community, small towns living next to each other.

2. There are people that talk and there are people that do: As Jim has co-Pastor John and I boarded up windows of shops that had been looted in the riots, we were watched by a large crew of reports and ‘officials’ (I think they were from the Mayors office). It felt strangely awkward that there were far more people talking about what the few of us were doing. It sort of compounded the feeling of ‘us’ and ‘them’: distance and separation. This is some of the division and difference that some have argued formed the basis of the riots. In difference and division issues of racism, poverty and injustice are all the more visible and painful.

3. How to make a difference: We sat with a church as their collective heart was aching and breaking for the lost of a young life and the brokenness of their city, it was a privilege to hear their thoughts on how they might change the situation. My first reflection is it is often hard to think about what the solutions are in the mist of the action, pain or hurt; we need time to process and measure. Second, a true compassion is at first hurting with those that are hurting. For example: ‘Jesus wept’ (John 11:35) - Jesus with Mary and Martha is just one example of Jesus’ compassion. Thirdly, it’s important to carefully think about what our response is and who it is for. It is easy to respond to these situations in a way which is more about us than about the community or others around us, especially as youth workers with saviour complexes!


It has taken me a long time to think about and write this blog, Baltimore is a strange, beautiful and intriguing City and one I hope to revisit.

Well that’s the US trip over, I hope you have found the reflections helpful or interesting.

Burning Branches - Part 2

It is easier to believe that Baltimore was ‘mindless hooliganism’ rather than a complex response to the oppression we might all share responsibility for.

Of course, the riot was as Obama described created by some ‘criminals and thugs’, not to mention hooligans as intoxicated local sports fans of all races joined in with other opportunists. But there amongst these criminals, hooligans - whatever we choose to name them - are human beings who have been treated unjustly and are burning with rage. How do we respond to these people that we now name criminals? Do we simply lock them away so we can continue doing things as we have always done them?

These ‘hooligans' are our neighbours. As I have been reflecting throughout these weeks - we name people as we know them. Even if we consider these people ‘the least’ of our society, what does that mean? Jesus tells us ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' (Matt 25:40). The ‘least’ of these who joined in in the riots – whoever they were - the poorly educated, the homeless, the jobless, the poor, the addicts, the youth, the opportunists, the criminals - whatever we call them - why where they there at all?

At least some of these people acted out of rage: for justice for Freddie Gray and for themselves. You may have read that Freddie like others in his area was living on a ‘lead cheque’ this is compensation for lead poisoning that left him and others in his local community unable to lead functional lives. In Freddie’s case, court papers describe a difficult upbringing: a disabled mother addicted to heroin who, in a deposition, said she couldn’t read, and Freddie himself was four grade behind in his reading. This story is not unique. In Sandtown-Winchester where Freddie lived a third of houses in the neighbourhood are abandoned. Local unemployment is over 50% (5.9% is the national average). A quarter of families receive Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) and the median household income for this area is substantially lower than the national average of America, with each home surviving on just $24,000 (£15, 700) yearly.

The centre for Justice Policy reveals that Baltimore saw 145.1 kids out of every thousand citywide arrested between 2005 and 2009. In Sandtown-Winchester/Harlem Park, that number was 252. A local newspaper points out that means a quarter — one out of four youth — of all 10-to-17-year-olds in Gray's neighbourhood were arrested between 2005-2009. This is not much of a future to aspire to.  

So what is the answer to this group of people who got so fed up with living these lives they decided to set fire to them, and to loot and to steal and to run? How can we respond? Arrest more of them?

Gregory Boyle writes, 'Here is what we seek: a compassion that can stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgement at how they carry it'. We seek justice, but how do we find justice for everyone, and justice that meets compassion?

I don't carry the same burdens, and so the same rage that many of those 'hooligans' carry. My privilege means that not only will I not be unlikely to be falsely or rightly arrested, not only will I complete a good education, have a job and have enough privilege to help others, not only will I never know what its like to grow up on a street where houses are routinely set alight, not only will I have access to health and legal care that I need, not only will I avoid encountering experience racism in my day-to-day life, not only will I not need to riot to have my voice heard, but when I see these stories on my television or in a newspaper or on the internet, I will have the power to turn them off, to close them down and pretend they don’t affect me.

Of course will also have the power to realize that they do affect me, and that I affect them. I have the power to realize that whist my privilege brings choice, it also brings responsibility. I have lived, and may always live, alongside those who carry burdens that I cannot comprehend. I have the power to let Christ burn down the bad branches in me and allow me to abide in Christ, to find His love and compassion in the midst of violence, and name-calling and fear... dare I respond with compassion?

Burning Branches - Part 1

Listening to Revd. Jim Hamilton and the responses of the congregation of Church on the Square in Baltimore, what stuck with me is that rage is not logical. In the midst of so much chaos and high tensions, Jim reminded us to hold our judgment for a second on the events that have unfolded. That is to remember that rage is neither calculated nor present without a catalyst.

Rage, like love, is an emotion. It does not carefully deliberate plans and consequences. Like a fire, it needs to be kindled, to be set alight with fuel, space and time before it burns. Once rage explodes it tends to engulf everything in its wake. Rage burns down ugly derelict houses in a neighbourhood as well as newly renovated houses that a community has spent itself to build. Rage can burn out an old car, but it can just as equally set alight Broadway East community’s church housing project for the elderly, a local small business without adequate insurance and a pharmacy that a community depends on for access to medicines.

Rage does not calculate wrongs, it is a violent, intense response to external cues. In the case of Baltimore the cues built up, until they were out of control. Such cues include the black Medic-Aid patient who routinely waits longer for a hospital bed than the white Medic-Aid patient, the mother whose innocent son is routinely pulled over and arrested, a little league of Black and Hispanic children on their way to play baseball that residents assume they are a street gang. These ‘everyday’ stories I heard in Baltimore are experiences that can build up, like the account of Freddie Gray, and if not given voice, can explode in rage.

If these stories are all contributory, then how far do we all bear responsibility for the rage that some of the people of Baltimore felt and the way in which they showed this? How far are we who watch the accounts on the television accountable for the actions we condemn on it?

Sunday's reading of John 15 reminds us that we respond to evil and to good by abiding in Jesus – because without Him we can do nothing (John 15:4-5). Jesus says ‘Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.’ We are invited to allow Christ to routinely burn and destroy the evil around us and inside of us: prejudice, hatred, oppression, murder. In doing this Christ burns away the parts of us that bear no good fruit.

If we hold on to our bad branches, and live within the bad branches of others, our chaos and hatred remains, fermenting over time like fuel, prime for explosion. Where the injustice simply festers in us and in our communities we risk everything:  by holding on to the prejudice and evil inside of us, we risk even the good branches that remain being burnt or destroyed in the explosion which can ensue.

Baltimore

We left Baltimore yesterday, full of mixed emotions. We were sad to have left so many amazing new friends, but also to have been with the city in the midst of so much tension, sadness and anger. Being with people of the churches and the community we experienced so much hope and potential amidst shock and confusion. It was early days, there didn’t seem to be much space for people to reflect in the midst of that world, things were constantly volatile. On Saturday we had joined with volunteers from across the neighbourhood to board up some of the shop fronts that had been destroyed by riots. There was a huge sense of hope of so many giving up their time to join in solidarity and service for the community. At the same time that morning, just four blocks away, a local shop owner was fatality shot. A city is always full of contradictions but in a time of such extreme emotion those contradictions are experienced like someone screaming right up in your face.

Yesterday folks from Church on the Square joined with hundreds across Baltimore to protest again. This time it was not a protest to necessarily change the government or powers that be – the district attorney had already made a moving statement to pronounce that justice would continue to be fought for Freddie Gray and his family. This it was a protest of solidarity to change ourselves and our future, to end a culture of fear, of poverty and of racism. The protest went from the Northwest District through to the Southeast, inviting neighborhoods normally segregated by poverty and race to walk together. This was a march to simply be together as people who shared hope for each other and the city. A few hours later the curfew was lifted.

It is still early days for Baltimore and the city certainly needs our prayers. However I think I have learnt that we need to pray for ourselves also; for the prejudices and divisions, contradictions and wars that happen in our cities and in our hearts, often in silence. It was out of those same problems that happen all over the world that Baltimore’s current situation exploded.

Stoop-Out

There are some good stooping steps in Baltimore and so Church on the Square worked with the local community in Canton to have a stoop-out last night and tonight!

Stooping is basically stopping to sit on your doorstep, or other people’s doorstep or porch and chat. In the case of Church on the Square (as you can see from the photo) we basically brought all the furniture onto the pavement and had a party with live music, food and drink. People might walk around the neighbourhood to ‘stoop’ with other folks, to have a drink or eat and pass the night away.

The stoop-out has a few aims. The first is to connect with each other in the community, to talk about what has been happening in Baltimore and how people feel about that and to build confidence again in each other. The stoop out brings people out of their houses, challenging fears and offers people space to talk about their feelings.A map was created with other hang-outs throughout the neighbourhood, with live links on facebook. Local businesses joined in to try and get trade going in a really hard week.

Many of the local businesses have suffered through the riots - some suffering through stolen stock, fires and smashed windows - others through the curfew that has been enforced on the city from 10pm-5am. Bars and restaurants need to ensure employees are home by 10pm and consequently places close early and people just don’t come out to eat and drink in the evening. One bar owner told us he took $16 the previous evening. The stoop-out encouraged people to buy food from local businesses and take-out from the square before coming together to chat.

The stoop-out not only gave space for people to talk about the news and the community, it made some noise in a city square that is usually noisy on a Friday night! It wasn’t a protest, these have been happening throughout the last few days - but this it was a chance to dialogue with each other and journey together. Doing this gave people in the community a reason to smile and a chance to connect, to turn off the news reports and remember the people in their road as they continue to strive for justice and hope for their city's future.

Difference: Naming and Knowning

But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: 'Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.' Isaiah 43:1

A week or so ago I posted a blog about name calling, giving the example of how we name things as human beings, and the responsibility that comes with this.

Throughout our visit to Detroit, New York and now Baltimore I’ve been reflecting that naming something and knowing something is intimately connected.

Isaiah 43:1 reminds us that we are known at the same time that we are called by name. These two are linked in our relationship with God. We also discover that these two things are linked when we begin to draw close to seek to know God. The tetragrammaton, Yahweh, is one of the names that that we have for God and is one of the ways in which God makes God’s self known. This name is itself a revelation – those who translate it often use the phrase ‘I AM’. In having this name for God, God is in some way revealing God’s self to those who get close enough to hear it. Still it does not communicate all of who God is.

The name we call someone or to something reveals who or what we understand them to be – but this name does not reveal the full extent of all they are. What we call someone is much less an indication of what that person is and much more an indication of who we understand them to be. And sometimes it is actually far more an indication of ourselves.

For me this is all too telling in the advertising campaign in New York which has caused so much division in this city. Pamela Geller is behind adverts against muslims which are due to re-appear again on the transport network. The adverts, name a non-muslin as a ‘civilized man’ and a muslin as a ‘savage’. These names only reveal what Geller and others don’t know about another person who is different from them. It reveals her reluctance to sit with and dialogue with muslims in order to discover who they are. This practice of naming is simply a process of naming one’s own fears: but it is the sort of practice that destroys, rather than builds up, a city.

In response to Geller’s adverts, Rev Steve Holton and others in New York are encouraging a movement called #journeytogether. This is to offer lifts to muslims so that they don’t have to travel on public transport with the offensive signs and images, and so that those driving them can also get to know them and build relationships of support. The idea is that we are all journeying together – gaining knowledge of each other, of ourselves, and of our faith.

With the current division and mistrust between communities in Baltimore, James, Aahana and I have also been spending time with a church that is also creating opportunities in which the community positively finds ways to ‘journey together’ after this week’s riots and today’s announcement, more on that to follow…

Babel

The tower of Babel in Genesis 11 reminds us that our diversity, in its humanness, can be confusing and painful, but it also reminds us where God can be found - as we try to understand and know each other more fully.

There are plenty of towers in New York City, a reminder perhaps that we can reach the skies when we work together (or apart). For me this fact as confusing as the diverse peoples who inhabit these towers – and indeed the fact of so many who don’t – because they can’t.

Sitting on floor 17 of one particular apartment, looking down, I don’t think that being in this particular tower brings me closer to God as some of the Babylonians might have hoped their tower did. In fact, if anything the further I am up this tower, the more there seems to be a barrier for me to connect with the people who seem so very far below me.

What connects us most fully to God is not trying to reach further and further to the sky - to create small gods of ourselves. Rather we find God when we really meet and encounter each other – at ground level, as equals. When we spend time together, when we look into the face of each other and listen.

Fr Steve Holton drew my attention to a passage in the Koran which resonates with this: ‘O mankind! We created you from male and female and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know each other (not that you may despise each other)’ (Sura Hujurat, verse 13). This really struck me – difference is created that we might know each other. Returning to the tower of Babel, what if God has created us to have different languages and dwell in different cultures and lifestyles, so that we might be different and so come together in order to know each other. What if by knowing each other – we are in fact brought into a deeper place to know God? Isn't this what the incarnation teaches us, as we spend time looking and living into the face of Christ?

We are changed by encountering difference – for better or worse. Within this we have the opportunity to know others and to know God far more deeply.

Silent Racism

Jeremiah, based at Riverside Church on the edge of Harlem, is exploring what silent racism means, through the Theatre of the Oppressed program there. Inspired by Barbara Trepagnier’s book and work on ‘Silent Racism’, the group are voicing feelings and reflections on their own experiences and their own prejudices in encounters with those of a different race. Here it is not necessarily about what is said but what isn’t – the honesty of being able to admit the bigotries and biases that are in us, when we are honest enough to confront them – and from here to act in a way that tackles these.

In her book, Trepagnier argues that if we are not proactively finding ways like this to take a stand against racism in our own lives, we are part of the problem. She suggests that the slow and steady trickle of silent racism in our societies is one of the biggest hurdles to overcome racism as a whole.

One obvious example of this in New York are the obvious fewer opportunities that Latino and African Americans tend to have, living in poorer, ghettoized areas of city, often with poorer educational facilities. The odds are stacked against the young people who grow up in these communities – and so Fr. Steve Holton has referred to those who lead a way out of it as ‘warriors of the dream’. 50% of these young people will drop out of high school before they graduate. This is often due to a need for a young person to go out and earn money for the family, but with access to only low paid jobs, drugs seems to be the best way to gain a dependable income, and to have a close circle of support. Manhattan has the highest number of arrests and parolees of any county in America – these are predominately young men of colour. In being re-released these young men enter back into these situations of poverty, unemployment and unstable housing – leading to a much higher probability of re-offending. Today an article on CNN website states  "The fact that there are more black men imprisoned today than were enslaved in 1850 signals that the transformation from chattel to criminal is complete when it comes to the black male body. In this regard, the Prison Industrial Complex serves as the new slavocracy. It maintains the narrative of this country that the black body is not meant to be free. It returns the black body to its "proper" space, and the body perceived as most dangerous, that is the black male body, is now adequately contained and patrolled." This reads as shocking, but it also speaks truth, the article goes on to identify this incarcerated and abused black body with the body of Christ. The truth is that in Harlem a third of the paroles will be re-incarcerated within a year and 42% within 3 years. One seven block stretch in Harlem is known an “re-entry corridor” where one in 20 men has been incarcerated. These issues seem at times too huge to tackle, but Trepagnier’s work encourages us that small actions each day that work to conquer our own prejudices and question the injustice around us make the journey towards change – indeed, this is one of the only ways in which this can happen. We are challenged to act radically to a radical phenomenon that faces us, to be where Christ is. As Kelly Brown Douglas suggests, Jesus would reply: "Running down a Baltimore street, On a Florida sidewalk. As you did it to one of these black male bodies you did it to me."

Check out http://rethinkingreentry.blogspot.com/, a coalition of community organizations working to change the trend of cyclical incarceration in Harlem.

Baltimore Riots

I wanted to just show some of the ways in which the church is responding to the current situation in Baltimore.

The first is a pretty incredible statement here by Bishop Eugene Taylor Sutton which gives some background to the situation in Baltimore, but also the widespread racism towards African Americans and the widespread oppression and anger surrounding this. What strikes me about Bishop Eugene's message is how he reminds us that these issues are not just Baltimore's issues, but the world's issues, and how we can respond.

It is a call for peace, but also a call to action, a call to trust in a God who knows suffering, but also a God who teaches us not to fear evil, but to rise against it in the power of love.

Right, is a clip of the clergy marching through West Baltimore as part of a protest against the widespread racism and poverty across the city.

Theatre of the Oppressed

This week I was able to spend some time with Jeremiah Kyle Drake at Riverside Church, New York. Jeremiah is the Theatre of the Oppressed co-ordinator for the church. Theatre of the Oppressed is a tool and philosophy that I trained in some years ago and is an incredible way to creatively facilitate dialogue between people. The practice was developed by Brazilian theatre practitioner Augusto Boal and influenced by the work of the educator and theorist Paulo Freire. The practice is a means by which men and women are able to become more fully human by dealing critically and reflectively with their reality; acting it out and listening to others do the same. Put simply, it is dialogue. This process invites a deeper awareness of how we all, each day, are part of participating in the transformation of our world, for better or worse.

Theatre of the Oppressed (TO) recognises each human being as theatre – a person sees the situation and sees one’s self in the situation – we are always at once actor and spectator. Once we realise this, we realise the power that our actions have in our world, and so with that our power to help ourselves and others. If we cannot exercise this right to act and to have dialogue – to allow others to understand us or our cause then we are oppressed. If we deny others their chance to speak, or refuse to listen to them, we oppress them.

With this the Theatre of the Oppressed is a space in which we are invited to realise who we are and the roles we play in situations of oppression in our world. It is also a place to think and feel our way into acting in a way that overcomes this. TO is a rehearsal for reality which itself is reality also.

I’m conscious that as I have been reflecting on this, the riots and peaceful protests continue in Baltimore. Martin Luther King once said that riots are the voice of the voiceless. So many of the people, mainly young people involved have felt that their voice has gone completely unheard. One youthworker described going into a school in Baltimore recently and asking in an assembly who in the school had lost someone they knew to violence in the city: everyone put up their hand. The youthworker then asked the young people to put up their hand if they had been on a protest or been represented on a protest against this injustice: no hand went up. Theatre of the Oppressed is just one, very simple way in which those who feel voiceless can discover their voice, and its clear that these methods are needed, not just in Baltimore, but in all of our communities, for the injustices that lie unspoken.

Jeremiah articulated to me the ways in which the Theatre of the Oppressed’s own philosophy and principals are actually those of the Gospel.  There are principals that seek to building a world where all are invited to ‘participate in human society as an equal, to respect differences and be respected’  and to become more fully human. Here dialogue prevails and work is for peace. TO allows people to be acting subjects of their own lives and its intention is always to develop societies that flourish and are just. The more I reflected on this the more I wonder that if these principles do not seem familiar to our church life, we probably need to take more action than we thought.

Warriors of the Dream

Yesterday I went to be part of a project called ‘Warriors of the Dream’ at St Phillips Church East Harlem. The group had been so called after the words of Ozzie Davis, friend of Martin Luther King Jr, to a group that had achieved their goals despite everything the world had thrown in their path, saying: 'You are my warriors of the dream.' The warriors are those people who, in the power of peace and justice, build, create and lead. The group explores their own history: Martin Luther King’s own dream, the dreams of their elders and the dreams of their future. Influenced by movements such as #blacklivesmattter it has been set up in recognition of the difficult challenges that face many of the young people living in Harlem, and in recognition of all the potential that they have to change their futures.

The group gathers like church to share time, food and fellowship. This time has a purpose of hearing God: for the group this is pursuing transformation of themselves and their neighborhood. The worship and liturgy takes place in the form of a drumming circle. The practice of drumming connects the group with their own roots and deep history, but also with a power that goes beyond words. It is a place for contemplation, but also for an acknowledgement of the power that the group has as a force for positive transformation. Scripture and spoken word is also incorporated into this practice, as is reflection, dialogue and listening across the group. 

So often dreams for hope and peace are characterized by passivity and quiet in our churches – the latter is no bad thing in itself. Yet when these young people that same day have woken up to more news that more riots are breaking out in Baltimore after black men have been killed unlawfully by white police, quiet just doesn’t cut it as an response. There is a place and need for anger, for feelings of betrayal, abandonment and grief to be shouted out in a way that is also a call for change, for truth and for transformation.

As I sat in the circle I watched more and more people join us from the local area and pick up a drum. As David the drumming leader said, you don't need to be an expert to play the drum, you just need to touch it to make a noise. For me this is also a metaphor for any way in which we can stand up for truth and justice - we don't need to be an expert on the law, we just need to say the truth our loud, to be counted, we just need to hit the drum. 

Usually traffic horns and sirens dominate the soundscape of Harlem, but this Sunday afternoon djembe drums could be herd several blocks away from where we were, and a few people stopped by to join in and share. One hearer said it was as if his soul was sleeping, he told us 'the drums called it into action'. This was a liturgy that was accessible, but also real, that captured the feeling and emotion of a community, but also proclaimed the presence of God in a place of conflict and destruction; the presence and power of hope in the midst of despair.

Diversity in the City

We have arrived in New York, the second of the three cities we plan to visit. Suddenly several things strike us about this city. Opening my mouth no one bats an eyelid. No longer do Americans ask either me or my 2 year old to say something in her ‘cute’ British accent, its nothing new. New York, like many major cities, is a melting pot of accents, nationalities, cultures and races. This diversity is amazing and beautiful – its one of the things that I love about being in a big city. But this diversity is also something that invites conflict. It is something that we as human beings always seem to struggle with and communicate well.

Living 2 mins walk from ground zero and the museums and memorials attributed to 9/11 is one huge reminder of groups of people who do not understand each other and the conflict that follows that. St Paul’s Chapel, part of Trinity Wall Street was meters away from the Twin Towers when they fell. The church acted as a ‘safe haven’ for 9/11 rescue workers, but its work continues after all the debris has gone. The chapel holds prayer for peace and reconciliation every day, a constant reminder that there is more work to be done, that conflict continues.

In our cities we deal with the diversity we find in different ways. There are plenty of congregations which seem to attract the same race or culture, class or interest group. There are other churches that pride themselves on their diversity and their ability to welcome difference, or to be inclusive in a particular way. Wherever we are on the continuum, the fact that diversity exists in our city will always bring conflict where there is no dialogue. If we do not work and pray for dialogue and peace we are negating our responsibility as peacemakers and creation builders – there really is no neutral that comes from doing nothing. In the days that follow I will be looking at and reflecting on some practical ways that churches are working with diversity in New York City.

Syracuse – New York State - Part 2

Syracuse is in New York State, and can feel like the forgotten town for some of the young people there. Guns and drugs get passed on from New York City and young people, ending up in a city where they feel there is nothing to do but aspire to a copycat NYC gang culture, often get involved in criminal activity. This might be to make a name for themselves, or simply to give them something to do. It is the trend in Syracuse for young people to walk around with large medallion style picture of person they ‘know’ (however well) that has been killed in some sort of violence, usually gang related street violence.

The death of friend is tragic for these young people. Young people have to find space to reflect, grieve and process. As part of this, young people wear this memorial around their neck. Yet in Nate’s experience this unusual act is also more than this, it is a badge of honour, a way of aligning themselves with a particular group or gang culture. The other side of this is that these young people are getting stuck in the present moment, stuck in bitterness and despondency to the world they experience which is one of death and desolation. Unable to lift their eyes beyond it, their anger and frustration often explodes in revenge attacks and the sad spiral continues.

Reflecting on this with Nate Peña the director of Pass Da Rock and in his role at his church as a Missional Director , it seems that one of the biggest issues he finds is that young people lack aspiration and hope; they struggle to see beyond the immediate. For those of you working with young people for any length of time in the UK and indeed in many of the world's cities, I’m sure you too can relate to this – often we come across young people who do not appear to aspire to anything, not college, work or even family life.

It seems pretty sad and somewhat ironic that there are so many young people with so little aspiration in state that has plastered on every car registration plate ‘Empire State’… In our cities we can claim huge big picture aspirations but how far do these actually filter down to people's daily lives? These young people certainly don't seem to live as citizens of an 'Empire State'.

Syracuse – New York State - Part 1

This week I (James), met the ‘sock man’ of Syracuse. I named him that - this is not a self-proclaimed name from a very humble man – in fact he gave me a pair (pictured left).

Nate Peña is the director of Pass Da Rock and this is what his website says about it:

'Pass ‘Da R.O.C.K. is a local non-profit organization whose vision is to model the love of Christ within the context of a positive and non-threatening environment. We strive to make a difference in the lives of under-resourced youth by providing an alternative to the streets and creating an environment where the participants can be blessed just for being themselves. This is accomplished by providing safe sporting activities. These events encourage our participants to be physically active while demonstrating good sportsmanship with their peers. These events also allow our adults leaders the opportunity to build strong relationships with the youth and be a positive influence in their lives. The main activity of the group, since starting in Syracuse in 2001, is an organized monthly event centered on open basketball competition for middle school and high school aged youth. This event also includes free food, drinks, and prizes for the participants. In addition to the monthly event, Pass ‘Da R.O.C.K. also organizes basketball tournaments, leagues, and group outings.'

There is so much that Nate and his team do, but for me it was summed up in the socks. Each week the team have a prize table that young people can choose something from – it is filled with things that the young people might need - and it’s always the socks that go first. The philosophy behind the socks is that they are considered a luxury fashion item – particularly the ones that Nate gives away. These cost around $20 and the young people would not be able to afford them, so Nate gives them away. In doing so he doesn’t just give away socks, he gives them status in a world where what you wear not only matters – but for some of these young people its all they have. I was inspired by the lavish nature of this act, it’s a token of generous love. Of course some of the congregation of his church ask Nate why they need to buy $20 socks when Walmart sells 5 for $5. But this act of giving away $20 socks values the young people, it shows them love. It reminded me of the woman that washes Jesus’ feet with the expensive oil (Mark 14: 1-10). This women does not use oil because Jesus’ feet need a clean – water would have done the job! The oil was used as a lavish act that blessed Jesus and proclaimed love and Jesus’ worthiness. Nate is blessing the young people because they are worthy to be blessed; they have the same value as him and as his own children, and his example is to treat them in that way.

Name-Calling

In the creation story there is a pattern in which God names things. In doing so God draws them into being. In Genesis 1 God names the light ‘Day’, and the darkness ‘Night’, God names the dome over the earth ‘Sky’, the dry land ‘Earth’ and the waters ‘Seas’ and so on. God names each of these things with individual names, and then he names them again – he calls them ‘Good’.

After creating Adam, God invites Adam to follow this pattern. In Genesis 2: 19-20 God brings to Adam the animals ‘to see what he would name them’ and then ‘whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name.’ Whatever Adam named things, that was its name. Bad luck for the hippopotamus.

Names are incredibly important to us, new parents spend ages thinking of what they can name their child, believing that in some way, this name will influence their future and their very being. We name and re-name things all the time, its helps us to understand who and what we are - and our cities are not immune to this.

Flint, the city in Michigan where we have been spending time this week is often given names. I mentioned that it is known to some as the most violent or most dangerous city in America (actually since February this name is now passed to Oakland in California… lucky for them). Other names given to Flint have included the most Illiterate City, or the city with the highest levels of arson. Detroit where we have spent the last couple of days has also earned these titles, and a few others; in 2013 it was named the most miserable city in America.

These names stay with us, and as we are called, so we become. For this reason it is so important for the Church to name hope in our cities. One of the episcopal churches we visited in one of Detroit’s poorest neighbourhoods is called ‘Spirit of Hope’. From this church and its with a small but growing congregation, an urban garden is tendered. From here the church with only a handful of volunteers and much less cash manages to give away six tons of food and 20,000 meals every year. In the spirit of the Heidelberg project members of the church are decorating old church pews and hymn boards with messages of hope for their community, placing them in public places. As part of this they are praying for their community and telling them about resurrection for all – naming hope for the here-and-now. This kind of hope whispers resurrection, whispers that a city is not dead in a tomb, Christ is risen for the all of us, and all of us are a part of sharing a hope filled resurrection life. Resurrection isn’t just for the shining cities and booming financial districts and fashion capitals, resurrection is for the derelict, the forgotten, the places that have been named the bad names.

One of my friends, Andrew, is working on a performance project with the Flint Youth Theatre. Its called “Flint, the most _________ city in America”, part of the project is allowing the community to fill in the blanks, to make their own name for themselves, based on the positive that they bring and not simply acknowledging the negative that they are labeled with. We need to stop 'name-calling' in the negative and start 'name-calling' our cities in the positive, we need to be honest about our problems but we also need to speak that truth in love and in the light of resurrection hope. So we are named so we create who and what we are.

Born makers

We are spending a few days in Detroit before driving to New York where we will meet more church and community workers involved in regeneration work in a different urban context. Detroit is in many ways a City which suffers from similar problems as Flint, but on a macro scale.

On our way here I was struck by the new Chrysler advertising campaign on the skyscraper between the two cities, visible from the freeway. The Chrysler building says ‘We are born makers’. In many ways there is a cruel irony about this – yes we are all makers but in cities like Flint and Detroit the opportunity to make, has been taken away from many people, the people in this tower might feel like makers... but there are people who down the road are surrounded by dereliction and destruction.

Yet its also a reminder that we are all makers, that for the residents of these cities, as much as they may feel like a few big factories would solve their problems, we all have an ability to create and make for ourselves.

I came across 1 Chronicles 22:15-16, where David commissions the building of the temple for the glory of the Lord. He says, 'Moreover, there are many workmen with you, stonecutters and masons of stone and carpenters, and all men who are skillful in every kind of work. "Of the gold, the silver and the bronze and the iron there is no limit. Arise and work, and may the LORD be with you."' This is a reminder of the potential that all of us have to create with the different skills we have and to work for the good for the city and for the glory of God. We all have skills, there is so much purpose to be found, but without finding this and without the opportunity to make and create, we are robbed of something which makes us human. 

It does not feel this simple for many of the people of these cities, to just 'go and create'. We are all born makers, but we are not all born equal. For some there are creative enterprises all over Detroit, people moving from Brooklyn to set up design companies, distilleries, bakeries, potteries, printers etc. as well as social enterprises. For others, particularly some of the poorer black communities who make up the majority of these cities, this can feel way out of reach. What is clear to me is that it is sometimes not enough that we are makers, we need to help each other to realise this economically, investing in each other, working collaboratively in a way that all thrive, not only the few. We have to make real the equality that we say we believe in.

In the Detroit Institute of Art there is a mural by Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo. Done in the 1930s it shows the car industry that was booming in Detroit (and indeed Flint). Rivera paints hundreds and thousands of workers, depicting the potential and the glory of hard work of people of all races, in the field as well as in the factory. But exploring the mural further, we see that Rivera also points at the way in which the few can exploit this, putting others in danger. His message not only to Detroit, but to a capitalist world, is that when the workers thrive, all thrive, but where they are exploited, all of humanity suffers. We are all born makers, the question is how happy are we with the world we are making? Is everyone free to make and create? Or just some of us? Our cities seem to magnify the creative industry, for better or worse, so what is our response when we really listen to it?

Paint Our Town Blue

Joining Andrew Morton this week at his playwriting course at the University of Michigan, I was able to sit in on a play they were writing collaboratively on the issue of child abuse. The group had had professionals come in from the local children’s home and had thought and reflected on the issue of child abuse in the state of Michigan. In the USA like in the UK, when budgets are cut, mental health support is often one of the first things to go, and this brings knock-on effects for everyone. Poverty too brings stress and anger for many, some turn to drug use – of course abuse can happen anywhere - but all these things can contribute to increased instances of abuse. In the state of Michigan, child abuse has been called a public health epidemic. Genesee County had nearly 2,000 child abuse victims in 2013. Of those victims, 1,050 were under the age of 5. Of those, 35 were reported as severely beaten. 63 children died last year in Michigan from abuse, 18 of these in Flint’s county of Genesse – all of these were under 2 and died of abuse and/or neglect.

April is Child Abuse Awareness Month and blue pinwheels can be seen in public areas to raise awareness and money for those working with victims and in methods of prevention. The campaign is called Paint Our Town Blue. The playwriting course has its own pinwheel garden outside the university. Such acts often feel very small, but they are a step towards raising awareness of these issues. The hope is that through this, work can continue in prevention of abuse by tackling some of the other issues the local area faces, as well as supporting the victims.

Embers

This week we work up to the smell of burnt plastic. The local recycling plant had burnt down in the night. The cause of the fire is still under investigation, but speaking to come people locally arson could have been a possibility. Arson is not the problem that is had been in Flint, but with over 25% of Flints buildings derelict and abandoned, it had been an issue. 1631 were reported at vacant homes and buildings in the city from 2008-2012. Half of the fires are believed to be caused by children under 18 years old, some of these seeking a thrill, others out of anger, revenge or metal health issues, others because they have felt frustrated, surrounded by abandoned, dirty and derelict buildings.

Most residents are desperate about the situation. The attacks cost the city millions in fire-fighting and legal investigations, and now the city cannot afford to employ its own investigators of these fires, insurance companies are sending their own investigators in. There are reports that such investigations have found an arson for profit group had also been operating in Flint, with people unable to sell their houses, desperate to get money from somewhere in order to leave the city, this group has since been arrested.

In one street a house that had been recently renovated burn down after catching alight from a delict house that was set on fire next door. This house had been a symbol of hope for many in the community; a neighbour explained how others from the neighbourhood had come out to watch it, some of whom had been involved in its renovation. Many stood there helpless, in tears. A friend of mine who witnessed this decided to work with students at the university to give voice to the anger pain and frustration that the community were feeling through a verbatim theatre project, Embers. Playwright Andrew Morton worked with students to gather thoughts and feelings of local residents. The performance took place on the street where one of the houses had been destroyed and local residents came to watch it, sharing in their own stories and the hope they felt for the future of the city. You can find out more about the project here (Chapter 3).

Still others are rebuilding and renovating buildings in Flint, and whilst some people are still moving out, some are moving in. The landbank is a governmental organisation is currently in a process of doing this as part of their Neighbourhood Stabilisation Program.

Garden of love

Spending time with Bobbie at Hope4Flint reminded me of the practical nature of Jesus call to respond to the needs of the poor. Jesus' command to his disciples 'they don't need to go away, you give them something to eat' (Matt 14:16) stands out on the board outside the Mission, and is so poignant. So many people have left the city of Flint already. Onlookers might think the answer is for others to just leave too. But Jesus commands us to respond, even in what looks like a hopeless situation. A crowd of 5,000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish seems to be a similar situation to a city of Flint with a population of 80,000 and the last supermarket in the city about to close. Without a car, without money, where will anyone find food to eat? For Hope4Flint and many other non-profit and church organisations, the answer that they have found is not to send the people away, but to feed people with what there is. The one thing that Flint does have is land. Groups like Edible Flint assist those who want to grow their own food in the city. They will come and check the soil of a garden for its suitability and then help advise on the fruit and vegetables that can be grown and harvested throughout the year.  This is not a quick or easy strategy, it takes time and hard work, but it is working to help feed many people who literally don't know where their next meal is coming from. Hope4Flint has its own "Garden of Love" that it runs with those who regularly drop into the centre, growing everything from strawberries to sweet potatoes and works with others to help them become self sustainable through growing their own food where they can.

Water and the City of God

The Psalmist writes, 'There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells' (Ps 46:4), Revelation 22:1 too describes to us the river of life which flows through the city of God. What can it mean then to be in a city which, has a river running through it, but one which is dirty and which cannot give its residents water that they can drink? I realise that I take what comes out of my tap for granted, for Flint’s residents, as for millions of people across the world, they can’t take it for granted at all.

Today we visited a project called Mission of Hope, Flint. The mission aims to provide warmth (a day shelter in a place which is often serval degrees below freezing), wellness (a high proportion of Flint’s population suffer from mental health issues) and of course, water. It aims to meet the needs of the residents who live here. Bobbie, the project’s leader and pastor, hands out water everyday to those who need it. He has been able to get some free donations from a local Coca-Cola plant in order to have emergency bottled water rations provided.

I’ve been part of soup kitchens and food banks handing out food, I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere that needs to hand out emergency water. There is something deeply shocking and immediate about this need.

The Psalmist’s words meant something extraordinary to the early hearers, as I think they might do so also for some of the people of Flint. For example, the people of the Old Testament did not take water for granted as much as some of the people of the New Testament. Whereas the New Testament writers had cultures of seafaring Greeks and Romans who travelled the Mediterranean, the ancient Hebrews traversed a desert, staying only where they could find water to survive.

There is a desperation and fear that comes when water is not easy to find, it is part of our survival instinct, it is part of what it means to be human. When we pray for God’s kingdom on earth, we pray for a place where everyone has water in their cities – and across the land. Working for the kingdom is working to make this happen, and that’s exactly what Mission of Hope are doing in real and practical ways.