Occasional Smidgens

I am self-admittedly addicted to reading blogs; in the past week alone, I've added four to my blog feed. Many of the articles I've been reading have been very encouraging or thought-provoking, and worthy of passing along. Instead of continuing to send my friends multiple messages on Facebook with links for the most recent blog I've read, I've decided to start posting them here. Thus begins "Occasional Smidgens" where I will give you some blogs that you may or may not find interesting and may or may not agree with. I don't agree with everything each one says (and some I agree with whole heartedly), but they got me thinking and that's the most important part.

"The White Savior Industrial Complex", by Teju Cole

How, for example, could a well-meaning American "help" a place like Uganda today? It begins, I believe, with some humility with regards to the people in those places. It begins with some respect for the agency of the people of Uganda in their own lives. A great deal of work had been done, and continues to be done, by Ugandans to improve their own country, and ignorant comments (I've seen many) about how "we have to save them because they can't save themselves" can't change that fact.

"Not a Click Away: Joseph Kony in the Real World", by Dinaw Mengestu.

The doctrine of simplicity is always at war with reality. Our best, most human instincts of compassion and generosity, if they are to be meaningful, can’t come from a marketing campaign as simple, as base, as an advertisement for a soft drink that promises you the world for a single sip. If we care, then we should care enough to say that we need to know more, that we don’t have an easy answer, but that we’re going to stay and work until we find one. You can’t put that on a t-shirt or a poster. You can’t tweet that, but you can live by it. 

"Speak Like You Mean It", by Maria Baer

We should be OK enough with our decisions to own them up front—and if we’re not, maybe we’re making the wrong ones. ...God gave us enough words to say what we really mean, and He gives us plenty of advice to watch it. If you feel like making a generalization, say “It feels like this is true” and then explore it. But remember to say what you mean, don’t say what you don’t mean, and don’t believe something will have to be true once you say it.

"Three Perfect Days?", by Kristin Largen 

[This comes from a blog written by one of my Seminary professors who is currently on sabbatical. She has been writing about the many places she has been visiting (including Israel and Palestine). Aside from the pictures and learning a lot about the people she meets and each of the places she visits, I find this post articulating some of the thoughts swirling around in my head. When we were able to meet back in January we discussed how one goes about travelling with integrity, really seeing a place in its complexity, and attempting to hear many narratives rather than just the dominant one. This particular blog post reflects on Dr. Largen's time in India]

I think what bothers me so much about this description of Delhi in particular—and, by extension, India in general—is the way in which it makes the impoverished people of the country invisible, denying their very existence and ignoring the brutal conditions that characterize their daily lives.  The idea that you could simply fly into Delhi, enjoy the best that the city has to offer, and fly out again without ever confronting its poverty is more than dishonest, it’s sinful:  the self incurvatus in se--curved inward upon its own comfort and luxury, not caring to see the suffering of one’s neighbor.  Oh, I know—certainly I am guilty of this very thing:  as a Lutheran I am all too away that this self-absorption characterizes all of us, all human existence—original sin reminds us daily of that.  Nonetheless, that may be an explanation, but it is not an excuse: near or far, for a Christian, this is an untenable way to go through the world.... So, I am still struggling; struggling to reconcile India’s beauty and ugliness, its wealth and poverty, its joys and miseries—wanting to honor both, without minimalizing either.  It’s hard.