An investment

“An investment in knowledge pays the best interest.” – Benjamin Franklin

So here I am in Ankara, committing to and investing in my completion of a Masters degree during the next two years; investing in knowledge.

Monday was my first day of school as a Masters student. I arrived 20 minutes late to class (after being stuck in rush-hour traffic for over an hour for a distance, which, without traffic, would only take 15 minutes), which hopefully does not destine me for some sort of degree-long failure. Luckily, I don’t adhere to such superstitions and justified my tardiness  (or at least felt less guilty about it) as multiple other people continued to trickle into the classroom for the next hour. Clearly, I was not the only person who was late.

I attended four classes this week, but only one professor lectured for the whole three-hour block – ironically enough the class to which I arrived late. The other professors merely introduced course subject, syllabus, and requirements. Apparently, this is a university tradition – neither will anything be taught nor will Masters’ classes actually be held during the first week of any semester. Most students who had actually registered for the classes didn’t even appear. Advantageously, this lack of actual classes left copious amounts of time for basking in the sunshine while drinking tea as well as navigating the treacherous university bureaucracy to determine how to register for a Turkish class (and initially, determine for which course Master’s students are eligible) as well as preparing to tackle the government bureaucracy entangled in attaining residence permits.

Luckily, I was not left alone in my struggles towards creating order within (or mere understanding of) these systems. Over the course of the week, I befriended a number of other foreign Masters students and we have created an informal yet highly functional cohort for navigating course readings, university schedules, government bureaucracy, and mere campus dilemmas (Where should we eat? When will we get our student IDs? Are the official letters needed for our residence permits finished yet?). We are looking out for one another, increasing our individual functionality and, together, are able to laugh about the lack of clarity concerning things like for which Turkish course we are actually eligible (Thankfully, this quandary was resolved last week).

The language of university instruction is English, so course materials, lectures, discussions are all in English. Within administration, however, speaking Turkish is essential for communication and I am happy to have the opportunity to practice my Turkish in such situations, even if 'Turkish' then seems to be based on a significant number of hand gestures. Thankfully after the first few days here, my brain has mostly sorted out the fact that Turkish and Arabic are in fact different languages, and I am no longer constantly trying to speak Arabic with people here.  I am hopeful that a language course at the university will be the perfect venue to review and improve my Turkish parallel to my study of all things related to the Middle East. This semester: Geopolitics (a very cool idea of the study of the effects of geography on international politics), Migration and Transnationality (carrying out actions across national borders, usually, in this case, as relates to migrants), 20^th century Middle Eastern History and possibly 20^th century history of Iran.

Confronted with these new topics and course readings, I must admit that I happily spent a good portion of my week in the university library. However, I continue slowly exploring the city and will post some additional photos and anecdotes of my adventures in the coming days.

A new adventure

This blog was born in July 2011, in the months before I began working with the Kindertreff afterschool program in Berlin-Neukölln. Since August 2012, the blog has, however – for various reasons – remained abandoned. In the past months, I have regained an interest in posting. I even possess partially completed blog posts that I have saved among my documents. They were, however, neither completed nor posted. Now, however, the time has come to revive my blog. I am now finally ready to commit to blogging again, at least for a bit.

My adventures in the past year have been many. In October I traveled to Turkey on holiday, but mostly continued working with the Kindertreff through the end of January 2013, when my international placement there came to an end. On February 1, I returned to the U.S. and, having decided not to continue my work with Global Ministries, visited family and friends for a month and a half. From mid-March to mid-August, I lived in Amman, Jordan, where I attended an intensive Arabic language course. After a short stop in the Netherlands, I returned to the U.S. at the beginning of September. Last week I arrived in Ankara, Turkey, which, for the next two years, shall be my new place of residence. These geographical locations and my pursuits in each of them create a framework and a context for the experiences, adventures, challenges and blessings with which I am confronted.

It is impossible to concisely summarize the adventures of the past year, and doing so would not do it justice. Therefore, I shall begin with the present, with my most recent adventure.

The view from campus

I arrived in Ankara just five days ago. Turkey will be my new home as I begin a Master’s degree here in Middle East Studies at the Middle East Technical University (fittingly enough) on the outskirts of the city.  As overwhelming as my commitment to live in a new different foreign country for the coming two years sometimes seems to me, I am very excited by the possibilities that my studies and my life in Turkey hold.

Ankara, to most, is a somewhat emotionless impersonable political capital city, which doesn’t warrant a visit from most of Turkey’s tourists. For those who do decide to venture to Ankara on their journey between Istanbul, Cappadocia and the beaches of Turkey, the most notable stop is Anitkabir, the mausoleum where Atatürk (the founder of the Turkish Republic) is buried. Knowing that this is notably the most important destination for Ankara’s tourists and having spent the past two days at the university registering, I decided to fulfill my touristic duties today and also ventured to Anitkabir.

The hill on which the mausoleum is located advantageously also provides an ideal perspective over the city:

At Anitkabir

Having spent the past months mainly in Amman (population 1 million), I am rediscovering what it is like to live in a large city (Ankara’s population is 4-5 million) and all of the benefits that accompany city life. I am happy to be living in the city, but also to be in an apartment on a hill, a bit removed from the noise, dirt, and direct 'busy-ness' in the city. I am slowly exploring the city and gaining a feel for the streets around my apartment. So far, I think I made the right decision in not bypassing Ankara as most foreigners would, but instead in beginning a slow, committed exploration of the city for the next two years. I am curious to see exactly what I uncover. 

Eid Mubarak!

Today is the third and final day of the Ramadan holiday (Şeker Bayramı in Turkish, and Eid al-Fitr in Arabic), for Muslims across the world. This year I was in Berlin for the entirety of Ramadan and observed as many of our youth devotedly fasted for their holy month.  Together as a community, we also celebrated Iftar (the evening meal that signifies the breaking of the fast each day) on one Friday evening. With children running around attempting to fill out worksheets on fasting traditions in Islam and Christianity, with the reading of a Koran Sura, and with the performance of traditional music as well as fire-juggling by our youth, the evening was a microcosmic reminder of the potential of interreligious dialogue, intercultural understanding and peaceful exchange between and among people of differing faith traditions.

I have long been an advocate of such exchange, but this small event was an important reminder of the peaceful and loving exchange possible, which I find particularly and personally important in a year in which hate, dispute and violent acts have continued to plague my Muslim brothers and sisters around the world – particularly during the holy month of Ramadan.

During Ramadan, more than seven Islamic Centers in the U.S. were targeted and attacked. In the same month, Congressman Joe Walsh stated that “there are people in this country, there is a radical strain of Islam in this country – it’s not just over there – trying to kill Americans every week.” Sadly, such statements, such attacks have not been isolated to the United States.

Strategically planned on the final day of fasting, a group called ‘Pro-Deutschland’ (Pro-Germany), a group comprised largely of neo-Nazis and fascists, arrived in Berlin on Saturday to protest three mosques here in the city. Outnumbered by the counter protests at all three protest sights, the small Pro-Deutschland group waved their German flags, held anti-mosque signs and presented caricatures of Mohammed (which is strictly forbidden among Muslims). The counter-protest group, comprised of an interesting mix of punks, hippies, social liberals and Muslim men, women and children, shouted, whistled and cheered to block out the amplified sound of the Pro-Deutschland group; a group of Muslim men peacefully held their Korans in the air and chanted together. Although the majority were fasting for the final day of Ramadan, they stood in solidarity in protection of their mosque, their religion and their identity. Although it was 80 or 90 degrees Fahrenheit, men from the mosques distributed water to the protestors. Through peaceful protest, this colorful group of counter protesters reinforce the importance of standing together in solidarity and the truth that there is strength in numbers.

Youth attaining to fast like their parents.  Children energetically learning about fasting in two differing faith traditions. A communal and interreligious Iftar. Solidarity in protesting those fighting against Islam.

This – not hateful attacks, words and actions – is what Ramadan is about.

Yesterday, we distributed chocolate, Turkish delight, popsicles and candy to the neighborhood children and youth at the Kindertreff to celebrate the end of Ramadan with them. Today, we will build small gingerbread house-like mosques. In a church.

We are all humans; all people with the freedom of religion and that religious practice. Together, Christians and Muslims believe and trust in one God. Together, we must celebrate. Together, we must stand in solidarity at times of attack. Together, we will work to dispel the hatred, the violence. Together, we must stand strong. In love. And in peace.

Bee Stings

“After you get stung, you can't get unstung, no matter how much you whine about it.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

Until the end of June I had never been stung by a bee. I had not been in an acquaintance’s garden more than 5 minutes on that overcast Sunday afternoon before I felt the sting on the side of my foot. I quickly learned the truth about bee stings – that they hurt a lot. As a friend removed the stinger, chives were gathered to put on the sting and I sat a few minutes in the garden, made helpless by a mere bee sting.  However, the herbal remedy worked its magic, and soon, I was back on my feet for an afternoon of picking and gathering fruit in the garden. I forgot about the sting completely until I got out of bed the following morning. The soreness in my foot was, however, bearable and within a few days, the soreness and the swelling were gone.

This story came to mind, after being – once again – stung by a bee yesterday afternoon. This time sitting by a lake on the outskirts of Berlin, I got stung under my arm. Chives were not readily available this time around, but, having just gotten to the lake, I remained there even as my arm began to swell. Today, the sting remains pretty visible – swollen, sore, and red.

I haven’t posted to my blog in months, as I have been working to recover from the symptoms of another kind of ‘sting.’ Know that my silence is not intentional. I have simply not felt inspired to write and would rather post quality than simply post to fulfill writing a post.

My symptoms have not only extended to my blog writing. I have also felt myself distanced from my Berlin church congregation, frustrated with the institutional church. Angry and short-tempered when working within these confines. More emotional and emotionally unpredictable than what I would consider my  ‘normal.’

I have felt largely uninspired as I work through the symptoms of swollenness, soreness, and redness that have followed the emotional and spiritual sting of being at General Conference at the end of April. Never had I expected this ‘sting’ itself to penetrate so deeply into my being, nor had I awaited the aftermath of ‘symptoms’ that I am experiencing.

Whining will not change what has happened, and therefore it is not my aim to use this as a platform to whine. I did, however, want to answer your likely question, “Why the silence? Why has Michelle not posted recently?” And I am working to re-gather the strength, courage, and persistance that I will need to remain spiritually whole and to work towards justice within the United Methodist Church for the coming four years.

Know, however, that my next inspiration will come your way in the form of a blog post.

And until then, I will try to avoid being stung by any bees!

The church as sanctuary

Last week, as the United Methodist Church gathered in Tampa for General Conference, I seldom found our meeting place, our worship or our conduct with one another as a place of sanctuary. Entering into the space where our plenary sessions were held each morning last week, I felt not a sense of calm, but an engulfing tension. In encountering individuals with whom I had differing beliefs, I found no refuge, only vulnerability and pain. The communal ‘church’ that I encountered in Tampa created neither a holy nor sacred place, and failed to be a place of asylum or refuge for those feeling outcast from the denomination. For me, the convention center halls were no sanctuary.

In venting my frustration concerning the ‘church’ and this lack of peace, this lack of inclusion, and the absence of welcome and safety present at the General Conference, a friend reminded me that ‘church’ encompasses, yes, the institutional rulings, agencies and workings, but also extends far beyond the reach of the convention center halls of Tampa, Florida. Oftentimes ‘church’ is found instead in the smallest corners, initiatives, and extensions of love.

Throughout General Conference, the Love Your Neighbor Coalition’s ‘Tabernacle’ tent across the street from the convention center provided such sanctuary and exemplified the possibilities of ‘church.’ There, all were welcome. The homeless, the bishops, the local volunteers, the international delegates. There, one could cry without judgment, receive a hug simply by asking, and always find something to nibble on. If this is not such an example of ‘church’ that my friend encouraged me to seek out, then I am not certain what is.

Since returning to Berlin, I have given much thought to what ‘church’ means for me. Yes, I work in a church building. Yet I do not always personally find sanctuary there. However, as my first day back at work reminded me, ‘church’ can remain a ‘sanctuary’ even if the institutional church fails to provide such security and peace.  

I spent my first afternoon back at work outside on the playground, playing board games for a bit, later passing a soccer ball around with a small group of kids until it became clear that some of the youth were planning to fight one another on the soccer field. After lengthy preparation and plenty of talk about being manly, strong and invincible, two youth began fighting one another. Before I could work to stop the fight, one of the youth was already on the run, attempting to get away from the group of boys following him. Living pretty far away, he wouldn’t have made it home. So, where did he go? Straight into the church where I work. As soon as he headed for the church, I ran after him. He knew, just as I did, that once he was in the church he was safe. We would not only ensure that he was uninjured, but that, regardless of who was at fault, he made it home safely past the groups waiting outside to continue the fight. That we would tattle neither to his parents nor to his friends. There would be few to no questions asked.

He had found sanctuary. In the church.

The ‘church’ has a history of providing sanctuary to those in need. In the modern sanctuary movement, asylum seekers and refugees have often sought the church as a safe haven. The Heilig-Kreuz congregation in Berlin supported three Palestinian families from Lebanon in seeking asylum in Germany in 1983 and from this precedent, churches in Berlin have organized to offer “Asylum in the Church” (Asyl in der Kirche, e.V.) and amongst German Christians, the concept of church as a ‘sanctuary’ is self-explanatory. In the United States, a parallel sanctuary movement providing safe haven for Central American refugees fleeing civil conflict emerged in the 1980s. In 1985, my home church congregation, Dumbarton UMC, sheltered an undocumented Salvadoran immigrant.

The basis for the ‘church’ as sanctuary exists. Not only from our traditions as a ‘church,’ but also through our reason and our scriptural basis. This ‘church,’ this sanctuary, need not only be a physical place, but can be a person, a group, an activity or event, or simply a way of living. Sometimes it is hard to see an institution as sanctuary. But, luckily, ‘church’ encompasses more than the building, than the rules, than the doctrine, than the agencies, than the politics.

‘Church.’  When fulfilling its purpose, ‘church’ reaches beyond these details and remains simply the safe haven, the sanctuary to which or to whom one can always run. Whether running from the politics and doctrine, from the kids on the playground trying to beat you up, or to a place of inclusion and welcome, the ‘church’ must remain a strong foundation. A safe space. A sacred place. A refuge.

A sanctuary.

Complacency in Investment. Complacency in Silence. Complacency in Injustice.

“Not to take sides is to effectively weigh in on the side of the stronger.”

-William Sloane Coffin

Today, we, as a representative body of the global United Methodist Church at the General Conference, voted to not support divestment. United Methodists across the connection have passionately devoted time and energy these past four years to work towards realizing and calling for divestment this General Conference.

As the United Methodist Kairos Response states:

“Divestment is a form of nonviolent moral action to change unjust practices,” and in doing so, it can:

“1. …provide hope to Palestinians who see their freedom denied every day;

2. …raise the level of awareness about how profitable Israel’s occupation has become for companies around the world;

3. …ensure that we as investors are not profiting from this;

4.  …put companies on notice that their support for Israel’s occupation may turn away investors;

5. …stimulate public discussion about the realities of occupation, which have largely been hidden from Americans, and can lay the groundwork for changing US policy;

6. ….send a message to Israeli leaders that we view the occupation as immoral and we will actively oppose it; [and]

7. …show the world that we believe in the equality of all God’s children, and that our faith requires our commitment to justice and peace.”[1]

Well, engaging in divestment could have had these impacts….

In discussing the investments and divestment of the United Methodist Church’s finances and stock-holdings, the UM Kairos Response movement of the church had petitioned to, hoped for, and envisioned a divestment from Caterpillar, Hewlett Packard, and Motorola, the three major companies invested in the Israeli occupation through the implication of the use of their products in home demolitions, the construction of settlements, biometric monitoring of checkpoints, and surveillance systems for settlements, military bases, and the wall. The major issues of divestment, for those represented here and opposed to such action, included the financial implications of such action for the General Board of Pensions and Health Benefits (thinking, first, of ourselves), Israel, and (lastly) Palestinian Christians. Discussion of this and another petition regarding Israeli settlements was charged with negative, hateful language, particularly directed at ‘the Muslims’ and ‘all the Arabs,’ who ‘pose a threat to the security in our backyard.’

Having been in Israel and Palestine in 2010, I have witnessed that the movement to divest and the seeking of peace in the Holy Land moves beyond these concerns.

Having broken bread with, lived with, and worked with Muslims in Palestine, Turkey, and Germany, I am outraged and personally offended by such hateful speech against Muslims on the plenary floor of a Christian organization, to which I am a member.  Three years ago, I joined the United Methodist Church, impassioned through and empowered by the denomination’s commitment to justice, but have never questioned my membership in this institution more than I have in the last ten days.

This afternoon, the United Methodist Church has chosen to do nothing. To remain silent. To remain complacent.

Although Wesley stood on the principles of social holiness and the belief that there is no religion but social religion;

Although the United Methodist Church has a tradition of standing with marginalized peoples; and

Although the Palestinian Christians have asked us to stand in solidarity with them and have submitted a concrete call for us to act to bring peace and justice,

We, as a church, remain silent.

We turned from the UM Kairos Response’s call that ,“The Church should lead with prophetic action by publicly and promptly aligning its investments with longstanding church policies opposing the Israeli occupation.”

We failed to give voice to the voiceless. We failed to align our actions with our words. We quiver in fear, failing to stand brave together as a church.

In doing so, we fail to work towards peace and justice for Israelis and Palestinians suffering under occupation.

We fail to be the change that Christ calls us to be in this world.

Our Palestinian sisters and brothers in Christ empowered us in the Bethlehem Call, Here We Stand – Stand with us, “The pain will pass soon if we act now.”[2]

How long will we now need for this pain to pass? When will our Christian actions align with our doctrine and Jesus’ example of justice? When will peace and justice prevail?

“First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me.“-Martin Niemöller

 

 

 When will we, as a denomination, speak out against and act in the face of injustice?

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[1] UM Kairos Response, Questions and Answers about Divestment.

[2] Bethlehem Call: Here we stand – Stand with us, 5.

So much privilege. So many ‘first world’ problems.

 

I live and work in a developed country.  I have a private university education, I have a laptop and a cellphone, I am from an upper class economic background, am white and hold an American passport.  Yes, I am privileged. Very privileged. And am also privileged to have the funding and the connections to have traveled to and be present at the General Conference of the United Methodist Church here in Tampa, Florida.

Now, perhaps it is because I spend nearly every-day with children, youth, families, and coworkers who are underprivileged. Many receive governmental social benefits. Many are underpaid for the work they do. Some are forced to work for inadequate wages. Many are fighting for their rights to become German citizens. Some are focused on how they will make ends meet to pay the rent, what they will eat for dinner, or who will care for their child the next day.

Even in a developed country, these are not ‘first world’ problems. And so my perspective is a bit different.

Returning back to the states is always a bit difficult for me. My reverse culture shock of everything being larger, not being able to always sort my trash in public locations, the indirectness (and sometimes superficiality) with which Americans speak with one another, and the insensitivity for the global community is almost always at the core of my resentment of such reentry. While being at General Conference has made for a different sort of ‘reentry’ into the church world and the United Methodist world, rather than the everyday ‘American world,’ it has brought its own struggles.

In the past week, I have seen more iPads, Laptops, iPhones, and Blackberries than I have likely seen in the past 10 months combined. I have seen more people (both young and old) reliant, dependent on cell phones, internet access, and constant interactive social media communication than I have seen since my time as an undergraduate. I have heard delegates comment about being unwilling to forfeit their ‘nap’ or ‘lunch’ time for the sake of expediting and expanding upon the work that they are actually here to complete. I have had more conversations with people that are based on a clear delineation of ‘us’ and ‘them’ language, regardless of where on the political and theological spectrum such individuals fall. I am also guilty of slipping into the use of such language and others of these cultural actions, mannerisms, and prioritizations.

These are all signs of privilege. Signs of our ‘concerns,’ our ‘problems,’ our absorption and our priorities in a developed country. Where  a cell phone battery dying can be a disappointment, having to wait too long in line can be an annoyance, and not knowing what to wear in the morning, a crisis.

But, in the big scheme of things, are these things that actually matter? If we are so busy with these everyday crises, then how can we acknowledge, embrace, and move beyond our privilege, particularly as a national and global church, to recognize the needs of others, to engage in both charity and justice, and to recognize each individual in this world as our neighbor, whom we shall love?