Reality Check

I like to be comfortable. I like to come home in the evenings, eat my dinner and sleep soundly because my stomach is full and I don’t fear an intruder in the night. And I like to think that as I go about my business in the daytime that everything is as right in the world as it seems to me. There is no war. Children aren’t being subjected to abuse. Women aren’t been raped. Prisons aren’t full of innocent victims. But if I do this, I’m living in what Peter Storey calls a “sound proof bubble where the cries of others aren’t heard.”

I have to admit on most days I do live in such a bubble. Currently the greatest stress in my life resolves around where I am going to work when I graduate. What a joke my “stress” really is… I’m healthy, I eat well, I drink clean water, and I have people in my life who love me. What more could I really ask for?

I know that you might be thinking at this point, oh no, not another count your blessings, save the world, make your life count speech… I’ve heard it all before. I like my life, thank you very much and there’s nothing wrong with having what you need (or even some of what you want) and feeling safe in your surroundings. And, I have to interject that on most days I would be right there with you. It feels good to have things.

But, on Monday night I was shocked back into REAL reality once again when I attended Duke’s performance of Speak Truth to Power: Voices From Beyond the Dark written by Ariel Dorfman. It was an incredibly powerful dramatic reading based on a book by Kerry Kennedy Cuomo. And the play was followed by a fireside chat with Dorfman and Peter Storey, professor of Christian ministry at Duke and former Methodist bishop in South Africa in the 90s. Throughout the play, stories of human right workers, prisoners of conscious, and of women and children enduring senseless persecution were masterfully presented one after another in such a way that you couldn’t help but have your jaw dropped in horror.

For example, read an excerpt from the play spoken by the character who played KOIGI WA WAMWERE, a prisoner of political conscious.

One night, when I had escaped to Uganda, five people, all masked, captured me, kidnapped me and brought me to Kenya. I was put in the basement of a police cell and woke up in a sea of water. I was naked and had been sitting in it all night. I stayed in that water for about one month. About a foot of water goes into the basement cell. They could freeze that water, keep it so cold that you shivered uncontrollably, and then make it so hot you felt like you were suffocating. I was interrogated during the day. They would threaten to throw me off the roof.

And most of the play was intense like this… You could hear a pen drop in the theater. You could tell we were people of privilege. We didn’t know how to respond to the multitude of stories. Upon hearing, though, our world instantly got a little larger. But, would our interest in human rights last until we got home?

The play ended by pointing to the accomplishments of several people of courage. One of these was Marian Wright Edelman, president and founder of the Children's Defense Fund. I really like her quote the play used:

Everybody needs to open up the envelope of their soul and get their orders from inside. And nobody has ever said it was going to be easy. You don’t have to see the whole stairway to take the first step. If you can’t run, walk, if you can’t walk, crawl, if you can’t crawl, just keep moving.

I wanted to shout, AMEN, sister. Moreover, her words were poignant especially when we add God to the equation. Yes, even when the issues seem so large and we seem powerless; we at least have to try to be a voice! Think about it….

You see, we speak about difficult topics such as the death penalty, AIDS, poverty and genocide because as people of faith we believe that how we relate to humankind DOES matter. And we work toward justice encouraged voices of truth and courage that have gone before us. And we have confidence to speak despite the potential negative consequences knowing that God is with us. (Ok, so maybe I start sounding like a sermon here, but can you tell stuff like this gets me fired up?)

So, in the end, maybe this is another “make your life count” speech. I’m not a fan of taking myself too seriously, but really there are some cries that I must be willing to hear. Thank goodness for Monday nights like this that reminds me to hear reality once again.

[The pictures of children I've posted are ones I met while recently visiting Rwanda]