Retirement

My wife and I have been pondering recently the feasibility of the American cultural value of retirement.  Specifically the idea that one is supposed to work hard and pay their dues so that when they reach 65 they can retire and not work for the rest of their lives.  We have been meeting with financial planners in the last month who have been trying to sell us this dream and give us their best advice on how to get there.  We have come to think, however, that there may be some flaws in their assumptions.  First of all the amount of money that would be required to cease working after 65 would be unrealistically large if one were planning to live off of the interest alone.  In order to keep up our standard of living with 1 car in a 2 bedroom (really 1) apartment with all the trappings of daily life we would need around $500,000-$750,000, assuming that we would earn a 6% return each year.(My parents suggest I would need 1-2 million)  And that would not be the kind of retirement that many Americans dream of which includes living in florida, eating out, traveling when they feel like it or buying big toys.  Many people I would assume have discovered that this is not realistic and have saved up equity in their home enough to sell it off and, with the interest on that plus supplements from social security, eek out a living.  Another method of retiring is by doing what my father is doing and working at the same job for 30 years and getting a pension for the rest of his life.  Neither of these last options sounds appealing for us since Social Security may not exist by the time we retire and neither of us is planning on working at the same job for 30 years.

Yet despite the lack of feasibility for us to save enough, this dream is based on recent cultural assumptions that have been lacking for the majority of human history and for the majority of current cultures around the world.  A major factor behind this manner of retirement is due to the cultural value of not burdening our children with caring for their elders and conversely valuing not having to care for your elders.  I can see the appeal of this sentiment since I would neither enjoy changing my parent's diapers or having my children change mine.  Yet, I wonder if something is culturally lost if we follow this idea.  Does this create more distance in our families? Does it teach us to not take responsibility for others?  The rest of the world seems to take caring for your elderly as a matter of course.  

It is also interesting that it is a recent idea that people would stop working before they were no longer able to.  I grant that the increase in the life span has complicated things where people live a lot longer after they are no longer able to work, which gets expensive.  Yet the model that most Americans seem to be shooting for is based off of rich CEOs who can afford to not work after 65.  This model would not be applicable to most Americans nor I would argue sustainable for our society.  

So here is our plan.  Firstly, if we have children, we need to teach them that it is our value as a family to care for our elderly and model this with our own parents. (They won't care for us if we ship our parents to the nursing home :) )  Secondly, We plan on working until we can no longer work.  Thirdly, we see the need for rest from work as important in order to maintain sanity and quality of life so we propose the idea of a "Sabbatical" every 7 years.  After saving enough money over seven years of hard work we would have a year long break to reflect, rejuvenate, and plan the next part of our lives. (And get excited about working again.)  If we start this plan when we are 30 we will have 7 sabbaticals before we are eighty.  Over this 50 yr span we would need to save roughly $280,000 (assuming $40,000 saved for each sabbatical yr,~$6,000 saved each yr), about the equivalent of a nice suburban home.  

One potential difficulty I forsee would be getting hired again after our sabbatical year.  We both have fairly marketable qualifications and are in careers where I think it would be possible, yet the older we would get the more difficult it may be to be hired by companies.  It would also be difficult to save $6000 per year especially if we had children and limited our income to one provider.  Also I have yet to do the math on what would get us more bang for our buck in terms of if we were to invest $6,000 in the stock market every year.   We will keep thinking about this one.  :)

Paved with Good Intentions

Over the Christmas break, I read a book recommended to me by a professor in response to a deep sense of unease that I felt in some of my classes last semester. The author of "Dead Aid" Dambisa Moyo is a Zambian economist educated at Harvard and Oxford, and her thesis is far from politically correct: Development assistance funded by the West is doing more harm than good to the African continent. Against the voices that call for more and more aid to the developing world, she shows how the African nations' current dependence on foreign aid for recurring expenses breaks the ties of accountability between governments and their people, shifts the source of incentives from the prosperity of citizens to the whim of international development agencies, and fosters a culture of corruption. At face value, it makes sense that if a government depends on someone other than its own people for much of its revenue, it will not care as much about ensuring that the people live in a climate that fosters the growth of businesses and makes hard work profitable. It also makes sense that in the presence of a large pie of foreign money attracts those who would like to have a slice just to themselves - thus the Swiss bank accounts of African dictators and their aides.

A similar argument was recently put forward by Andrew Mwenda, a Ugandan journalist who also wonders how it is possible that since the 1960s the West pumped over $600 billion into Africa, but the GDP and life expectancy in most of the countries who received the aid have actually fallen. While the relationship between the two is hard to establish, especially given the HIV/AIDS pandemic, it is troubling to think that what we consider as goodwill and charity of Western nations may actually be contributing to the plight of countries where life expectancy is under 40, and most people live on less than a dollar a day. It is especially troubling to me given my current field of study, international education development, which trains Western specialists to help solve the problems of the developing world. The ensuing dilemma is not a comfortable one. Do you rush to the aid of people dying of hunger and preventable diseases and by your presence reinforce the deep causes behind these symptoms, so that the scenario is repeated in the next generation? Or do you, as Moyo sugessts, exercise "tough love" and turn off the stream of money that corrupts politicians, risking that your action might cost the sick and hungry of this generation their lives? Whose lives have more value - the sick and hungry of today, or those who will repeat their lot tomorrow if something does not change? And finally, why are the terms of this debate determined on American campuses and not by those whom they most intimately concern?

The older I get, the more questions. I persevere because I hope for a third way that is based neither on guilty charity nor on tough indifference. I don't know quite what it looks like, except that I know that it is harder, and in light of the Way of Jesus, I can't help but believe that it exists.

Forgive Your Brother's Bad Theology

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive someone who has incorrect theology? Up to seven times?  

Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.

Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to make sure that all of his servants were spreading correct information about him.  As he began his task of interviewing the population, a man who had been spreading rumors that the king was a heartless and uncaring dictator was brought to him.  The king ordered that all the man had be taken from him and he be put in prison for spreading untruths about the King.  

The Servant fell on his knees before the king. "Be patient with me", he begged, "and I promise I will stop spreading false rumors about you."  The servant's master took pity on him, canceled his sentence and let him go.  

But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who was telling the people that the king had six toes on his left foot.  He grabbed him and began to choke him, "Stop spreading lies about the king!" he demanded.  

His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, "Be patient with me and I promise I will stop spreading false rumors about the king!"

But he refused.  Instead, he went and had the man kicked out of the village and told the people to shun him.  When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told their master everything that had happened.

Then the master called the servant in.  "You wicked servant," he said, "I had mercy on you because you begged me to.  Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?"  In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured each day until he had made amends to every servant in the kingdom he had wronged.  

This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive a brother or sister from your heart.  

Mt. 18:21-35 (Revised) 

Of Nuclear Warheads and Suicide Bombers

With this post I will effectively annihilate any future chance I have of becoming involved in American politics.  

The other day I was thinking about nuclear weapons.  And instead of pondering how soon they will be falling upon my city and my subsequent contingency plans (As is my usual custom), my brain turned to ethics.  I wondered why the United States was never tried for war crimes after dropping the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  On August 6th and 9th, 1945 two bombs were dropped in two cities, killing 80,000 people in Hiroshima (140,000 total counting radiation related deaths) and 74,000 people in Nagasaki (A couple of hundred thousand more due to radiation) effectively ending the war.  

I understand that death tolls of this sort are nothing new in modern warfare and that conventionally firebombing Tokyo itself caused around 100,000 civilian deaths.  Yet I pause when I consider the calculation that must have gone into this momentous bombing and the foreknowledge that hundreds of thousands of civilians would die.

At first I wondered if this event would fall under genocide.  Surely there have been those even in recent history who have been prosecuted for rounding up civilians and killing them in a time of war such as in Kosovo and Bosnia.  Yet after talking to my brother, we decided that the atomic blasts would not meet the definition of genocide because they were not targeted at eradicating a certain ethnic group simply because they were Japanese, but because they were at war with us.  (I wonder if this would change if those who planned the attacks hated Japanese people?... Which it is quite possible most Americans did at the time...)  

The argument goes that it was justified to kill all of these civilians because it effectively ended the war and saved many more lives than were taken by the blasts.  Using a Utilitarian ethic, this makes sense.  We kill a couple hundred thousand people to save 500,000 or a million.  The greatest good for the greatest amount of people.  Yet allow me to pose a thought experiment.  

Currently in Pakistan the Pakistani military is undertaking a major offensive against the Taliban in Southern Waziristan.  Meanwhile, the Taliban are attempting to break the political and popular support of the offensive by engaging in numerous suicide bombings targeting military officials and civilians, often detonating explosives in crowded markets.  There is a chance, as has happened before, that the military will call off the attacks under pressure and make a peace treaty with the Taliban. ("We won't bother you if you stop bombing us")  My question is, if the Taliban succeed in stopping the Pakistani fighting through the use of suicide bombers, will they be justified in killing civilians?  Many more Pakistani and Taliban lives would be saved than the number of civilians killed in suicide bombings if the fighting stopped.  The greatest good for the greatest amount of people right?   

So who are more justified? Atomic Bombers? Or Suicide Bombers?    

Eating (Or Not Eating) For Others

Our house church recently went on a weekend retreat at our family's cabin where we spent 3 days relaxing, discussing, playing Farkle, and hearing one another's stories.  A very moving moment was when one of our community members shared about her struggle with a medical condition she has had her entire life and the constant battle and mental energy taken to counteract its effects through extreme diet and life changes.  After sharing her story some of the members of the group decided to stand in solidarity with her and experience her diet.  I went shopping with my wife the other day at the grocery store to prepare for the diet and was surprised at how rigorous the diet actually was.  She couldn't eat any meat, dairy, wheat, gluten, sugar, caffeine, or alcohol.   75% of what she eats is supposed to be Raw. (uncooked)  And she is supposed to eat a lot of fiber which translates for her into eating ground flax seeds and fiber meal.  (Yum!)  

To be honest, I told Marta that I don't think I could do this for a month.  I am kind of finicky when it comes to food and in general have a hard time sacrificing or changing my daily routines for others.  But I am both proud and envious of my wife's commitment to her friend.  I am positive that this is a perfect picture of the kingdom of God and beautifully illustrates the love and commitment we should strive to have for one another.  So I will let Marta know that even though I am taunting her from across the table with a piece of chocolate or some savory steak and good wine, I greatly respect her.  

The Kingdom is Among You

Sadly, the neighbors across the alley have moved away.  (See "Bad Neighbors" post from May)  But before they did, something quite incredible happened.  Marta was working in the garden one day when the boys from across the alley came out to help her.  As they were working the boys began talking about the other children who lived on the block and asking Marta why they never play with them.  Marta reminded them of the time that the paintings, which had been hung in the alley by our landlords, had been slashed with a knife suspiciously after a large fight with the landlords over trespassing.  She explained how the Landlords were very hurt and angry over this event and told their granddaughter that she could not play with them which in turn caused the parents of her friends to not allow their children to play with the boys either.   The boys were distraught, claiming that it was their cousin who had slashed the paintings, and asked Marta what they could do to change the situation.   Marta suggested that they could write apology letters to the landlords.  The boys instantly became excited and jumped on the opportunity, running up to our apartment to trace their hands and color pieces of paper that would transmit their repentance and hopefully forgiveness.  When they were done, Marta had the boys deliver the letters to our landlords and to their surprise they were able to talk to the landlord face to face and explain themselves.  After a short lecture and clarifying of the rules the two parties shook hands and parted, at least in part, reconciled.  

I have been amazed recently at how the kingdom of God shows up in the most unexpected places.  Jesus himself taught that it will not come with "careful observation" but that it is among us.  We often try to create the Kingdom of God through movements or programs but it is when we are simply loving people and being the people of God that some of the greatest stories come from.  Subsequently, I have never been more proud of my wife.  I see in her a true citizen of the kingdom.  

Vignette of a Marriage

Yesterday Billy and I began celebrating our first anniversary. Since we were married twice within one week, the festivities will not be limited to just one day, but we kicked them off in grand style by having dinner at our favorite restaurant in St. Paul and looking back at the first 365 days of our marriage. When Billy asked about my most significant memory, it was not our honeymoon in Greece or surprise weekend at a Victorian Bed & Breakfast...

One night a few months ago, we were lying in bed about to fall asleep, but my heart was troubled with a lingering heaviness. "I don’t know if we’re still connecting like we used to" – I finally said out loud.

Billy must have been tired, but he turned towards me and asked me to say more – what made me feel that way? How were things different than before? I struggled to put my finger on just what it was that troubled me in that vulnerable hour before sleep and followed a few rabbit trails. "I don’t know" – I finally said. "Maybe it’s just that I wonder if we still really see each other... I worry that maybe we’ve grown so used to each other that we only see shadows made up of what we expect to see instead of the real person?"

There was a brief silence, and I grew worried that I’d hurt him with my words or unnecessarily raised his anxiety about the condition of our relationship, and I wished I hadn’t said anything at all. Silly, emotional woman. Of course we’re ok, how dare I wonder – we have a great relationship, why would I ever jeopardize it with silly nighttime worries that I can’t even figure out myself?

Then his soft voice in the silence... Open. Unafraid. Undefensive.

"Is there something you wish that I were noticing about you, sweetie?"

I lay there wide-eyed as these words crossed the silence, tearing up as soon as they reached me.

Instead of moving away, Billy moved towards me. In doing that, he opened some hidden dam that now stood wide open – as open as the stream of tears on my face while I considered his question.

"No, Billy. I think it’s just that I haven’t even been noticing who I am these days. I’m so busy that I don’t even look inside anymore, and I feel so foreign and uninteresting to myself when I’m finally quiet."

Our conversation that night stands out in my memory in a different way than the others – it wasn’t planned, it just happened in the midst of the daily stress of life while neither of us was prepared, rested or Sunday best. It was an unexpected moment of vulnerability, and even in that unguarded moment, Billy's first instinct was to move towards me rather than away from me; to be for me rather than against me; to really hear me rather than build up a defense against the potential danger of my words. What I find supremely ironic is that if he did become defensive or anxious, something completely unrelated to the condition of our marriage would have probably become all about it. I have a feeling that this is precisely how conflict and misunderstanding take root in most intimate relationships. Experiences like that late night conversation have rooted in me a lasting sense of peace and security. It means more to me than I can explain to know without a doubt in my very inmost being that Billy is truly, deeply for me. And that, more than anything else, cuts to the core of my fierce love for the man I married 366 days ago.

Bad Neighbors

There are new neighbors across the alley.  The kind that swear, make lewd comments towards women, don't care if their garbage overflows into the alley and into other's property, and who have a number of 10 minute visitors who always have someone waiting in the car with the car running.  We can hear the parents screaming at the kids and see the kids roaming the streets at all hours feasting on junk food and candy.  Our landlords have entered into an old fashioned feud with them after they were found jumping on the Landlord's trailer and subsequently banned from the abandoned lot they had made into a playground, which required police involvement to get them off the property.  In retribution for this banishing the children slashed about 10 paintings that the landlords had displayed in the alley.  Currently, the landlords have forbidden their children from playing with the "bad kids" and are trying to find a way to get them out of the neighborhood.  

Marta and I have befriended two of the children and have had them help us with our garden that is on the land that they were kicked out from.  They are definitely some rowdy kids but can be respectful and helpful.  At a recent neighborhood party we attended we were talking with the landlord and they were talking about how horrible the neighbors were and how they had found out that the owner of the property did not have a renting license and they were in danger of being evicted soon.  I made an empathetic statement regarding how horrible that would be for the family to be kicked out so soon and the landlord returned with the reply, "well it would be good for us!"  I did not say it at the time (I wish I would have) but in my head I was thinking that it probably isn't good for us in the grand scheme of things.  

Everyone seems to want bad neighbors out of THEIR neighborhood and few people actually want to take the time to love them and try to help them be better neighbors.  I wonder if it actually helps us to push out everyone in the neighborhood who is an inconvenience or who have issues and leave ourselves with people who look just like us and don't require anything from us.  It may "help" us in the short run, but robs us of opportunities to grow and become children of God, bringers of peace and wholeness.

I agree that the landlord of these neighbors could be considered a slum lord- a landlord who is never present and never cares for their properties, but slumlords have a purpose in this society.  They provide housing for people who otherwise wouldn't be able to find it due to past evictions, felonies, or inability to speak english.  Otherwise these people would end up on the streets.  The (understandable) problem is that nobody wants to be near a slumlord's property because of the trouble that it brings.  But if no one takes the stand to invest in these people, there will never be any change and their cycles of poverty and issues will continue.  

Good News

As of Tuesday of last week, I have a new job. Calvary Church is one of our favorite spots in all Minneapolis, so when they announced an opening for a newly designed administrative and communications role, I did not wait long to apply - the perspective of biking to work at a place with the kind of impact on our community that this church has seemed almost too good to be real! Calvary is not only one of the few truly multi-cultural and multi-ethnic churches in this state where Sunday morning is still the most segregated hour of the week - it is a community of mature, glad-hearted followers of Jesus who strive to be messengers of justice and good news right here in our neighborhood.

One of the perks of my new job, which some half-jokingly call a crucible, is that I get to work alongside of Calvary's pastor. Jeff has served this particular congregation for the last 24 years, ever since his graduation from seminary, and he might just be one of the most outgoing people you've ever met. He is loud, uproarious and passionate for his flock. He can soothe a crying toddler and fix a broken boiler as well as he can preach, and he knows the name of every single person who raises their hand during our weekly ritual of offering God our praise, pain and protest.

On my second or third day on the job, a woman from the neighborhood walked into our office asking for help. Her weary face reflected a lifetime of struggle and much pain, but she did not come in asking for money. A week since deciding to quit smoking, she had just found out that she has lung cancer. What she came for was for someone to soothe her and tell her that not all was lost. As we sat down, she was so choked up with anxiety that she could barely breathe. "I try my best to trust God" - she said between short, shallow breaths - "but I'm afraid this is His punishment."

Just by the time I managed to soothe her enough to breathe normally, Jeff returned to the office from a short errand and sat down with us. I knew he was having a busy day so I expected a quick prayer and a pat on the back - something like "God is in control of everything and you should just trust Him" - but his response to the woman was nothing like that. "This is not the end, sister" - he told her, "This is an invitation to a new beginning." He told her that she is God's beloved daughter - that God does not look at her as a punishing Judge, but as a compassionate Father. He told her that she needs God's people around her to help her through this time, and to help her see herself through God's eyes which are so different than the condemning eyes of this world. He told her that this time was an invitation from God to enter into a deeper relationship with Him where she would find lasting peace. His words carried no hint of shaming or judgment - they sounded like surprisingly Good News.

Good News - that is the literal meaning of the biblical word "Gospel." In the experience of too many, including myself, "Gospel" has come to mean anything but that - it has in fact become news of sin, condemnation, inadequacy and shame. If you're not a Christian, the "Gospel" message is that you're an abomination in God's eyes. If you are, you should be ashamed of yourself for not preaching the "Gospel" to all the lost sinners you know.

Sin, condemnation and shame are all an inevitable part of our reality on this planet - but Jeff's words reminded me that this is precisely the reality that Jesus came to rescue us from. And if that is the Good News of the Gospel, I might actually want to tell someone about it... In fact, I might actually want to hear it myself over and over again!

Auto Therapy

Recently, I started volunteering at a local auto mechanic shop that Marta and I had been taking our cars to. About a month ago I asked the owner of the shop if it would be ok if I came by to just hang out and watch as they fixed cars and possibly learn a thing or two. The mechanics were a little perplexed because this was the first time anyone had ever made such a request but they quizzically agreed to my offer in return for helping out where I could. Their only question was whether my virgin ears could stand the amount of swearing I would encounter, to which I replied that they had been deflowered long ago. The first day I was greeted with the proclamation that "The crazy guy is here" but was fairly quickly introduced to the mechanics and taken under their wing.

I came into the shop letting them know that I knew absolutely nothing about cars or how to fix them and that I was here to learn. I had been sick of being at the mercy of corrupt auto mechanics who could tell me anything they wanted to and I would have to believe them and pay ridiculous amounts of money to them. I also thought that it might be nice to save some money by learning how to do simple repairs on my own aging automobile. My first day at the shop the guys taught me how to do an oil change and fix a break light. (I felt so empowered with a sense of accomplishment!)

I have found, however, that after a month of volunteering the greater reason I go is for my own therapy. I have found that in working with people change is often a painstakingly slow process if it happens at all. As a therapist one cannot simply "fix" people. Even if change is accomplished there is no guarantee that your work will not unravel with the next week's stressor. With cars, if you see a problem, you can fix it and the job is done. There comes a real sense of accomplishment that does not easily come with working with people. This is my therapy. I have found that it is balancing for me to be involved with something that progresses and can be easily judged as "accomplished".

Even on the days when I do not do much at the shop, it still feels healing to be there. I take in deep breathes of oil fumes and listen to stories of how the mechanics have burned their eyebrows off or been injured in the war. I feel that I have retreated from the world of pain and chronic family dysfunction for at least a few hours during my week.

Makarios

μακάριος (makarios): blessed, fortunate, happy

It is one of the ironies of my existence that just when I come to live in the Land of Streets Paved With Gold, as we imagined it in my childhood, America enters into its greatest recession since the 1930s. For the last couple of months, hardly a day has gone by without some bad news: foreclosures, bankruptcies, bailouts, record-high unemployment, plummeting GDP - judging by the tones of some experts on the radio, an economic Armageddon. We have not been affected as severely as others, being that we're both young and have no stake in the stock market; but it's sobering to watch how deeply this crisis bites into the hopes and financial futures of many people we know. 

As analysts continue to predict doom and gloom, we continue as a house church in our meditation on the Sermon on the Mount - a radical reversal of the idea of who is really well off in the first place. Recently, Billy led us in a discussion of the fourth Beatitude - "blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." As with all the Beatitudes, this one in particular makes me wonder at times whether Jesus forgot to point out some mysterious connection. Blessed are those who see the endless destruction, corruption and exploitation? Who notice the abused kids, discriminated minorities, battered women, hypocritical preachers; the ravaged earth, cycles of poverty and trampled human dignity - who see these things clearly enough to cry out for justice? 

 

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise" - I thought to myself recently at Disneyworld, where all I could see at one point were the tons of disposable plastic disappearing at the magical touch of minimum-wage "cast members" after being thrown away by crowds who had just stepped off the "Living with the Earth" ride featuring eco-friendly fish farms and sustainable crops. Do you see yet why I haven't blogged in a while? When all you see in "the happiest place on earth" is plastic, you begin to wonder... 

I will admit that I do not come at the Beatitudes as a clean slate - they have always made me extremely uncomfortable. I think it started when I was a little girl and sometimes heard the Bible interpreted  in ways which implied that God is so entirely different from us that His  definitions of good or evil might actually be the opposite of ours - so in God's view, I might actually be "blessed" by being utterly miserable. When you are five years old and hear of a good God who orders the Canaanite men, women and children slain without mercy, textual criticism does not exactly emerge as a possible solution - either the good God or the definition of goodness has to go. Parting with the latter seemed like the choice of a lesser of two evils, and although I gave up this dichotomy a long time ago, it still surfaces as a haunting suspicion that may just lie beneath the surface of all conscious sin - "God, are you really good?" 

Imagine my amazement, then, when no one in house church ever brought any of this up. I sat there waiting for somebody else to voice my suspicion, but it never came - what came instead 

was a collective insight so simple and brilliant that my suspicion suddenly appeared like the whining of a disgruntled teenager. Of course those who hunger and thirst for righteousness are filled - their appetites are directed towards a healthy and nutritious kind of food, as opposed to empty fast-food calories. The gods of Greed, Consumerism and Security, rooted in the ancient lie of self-serving gain, are gods all right - but gods with no power to fill or save. This is one of my favorite aspects of doing theology as a community - thanks to the company of others on the journey, I'm able to discover my own slant and hidden prejudice, and be faced once again with the unimaginable reality of a God who really desires to give me hope and genuine abundance, even in the midst of crisis. 

Render Unto Ceasar

Marta and I recently watched the movie "Syriana".  It is a film about the corruption that comes with America's pursuit and dependence on oil, illustrating the convoluted interconnectedness between the oil companies, politicians, the CIA, oil Sheiks, energy analysts, lawyers, and ordinary Arabs caught up into terrorism.  The film left me with a sense of powerlessness, feeling that this problem is so big and complex that there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.  What made me feel even more powerless was the thought that the people who are in these positions of corruption and power are not even afraid of this movie.  If they really felt threatened by this film, it would have never been made.  The thing is that they know as well as I know that the entire nation could see this movie and come out of the theatre saying, "Wow, our system is really corrupt, oh well, nothing we can do about it, unless we want to give up what we have."  

There is a quote in the movie by a lawyer who is being sacrificed up to the public as a scapegoat to appear that the system is actually fighting corruption, he states, "corruption is what makes all of this possible, corruption is what keeps us safe and warm instead of fighting for scraps on the street".  Our standard of living is supported by these activities all across the globe.  If it weren't for the CIA, oil companies, and politicians meddling in world affairs, we wouldn't be able to have cheap gasoline or heating, or have as much money to buy inexpensive electronics (which would then be expensive electronics).  Everything would be harder to come by, raising prices and driving many of the superfluous or luxury goods and services (that we have gotten used to) out of business.  It is kind of like having a drug dealer for a father.  You don't really want to call the police on him because he is the one paying for all of your food, clothing, and video games.  Without him, you would be in poverty, or at least not able to buy all the cool stuff you have now.  

I used to be really obsessed with conspiracy theories and wanting to uncover them and fight against them.  A couple of years ago, my friends and I were serving coffee on the street and I remember talking to this homeless guy who was telling me all about who was behind the Kennedy assassination and how it was really the Defense Department's Intelligence Agency or something and he strung a pretty convincing web of facts and connections, but at the end of it I looked at him and said, "The powerful will always be corrupt but I follow the laws of a different kingdom".  Basically, "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's".  

I don't discount the efforts of those in government fighting against corruption and attempting to bring justice to the system.  I just believe that the greatest change will be brought about by planting small mustard seeds that eventually work their way through the cracks of the concrete above.  Inviting my neighbor over for breakfast, speaking truth and healing into the lives of those I love, caring for the poor and the sick, living simply with the knowledge of how the distribution of resources affects others, freeing myself from the idols of consumerism and militarism. This lifestyle brings change and works its way like yeast through kneaded bread.  

Some would take issue with me at the moment and accuse me of playing right into the hands of the powerful, enabling them to continue to get rich off the blood of others.  I understand and empathize with this sentiment, yet I believe there will come a time when they are judged for their deeds, but I will trust in one more powerful than I to do that judging.  Meanwhile the powerful are the ones who are fighting for the scraps of power on the floor, unaware that there is real food to be had at the kingdom feast, the appetizers of which we can enjoy now.  

Yet I am not so sure that the powerful of this world should be entirely unafraid of those who plant mustard seeds.  There is a quote in "The Brothers Karamazov" by a French intelligence officer, rounding up and arresting socialists. "We are not afraid of all these socialists, anarchists, atheists, and revolutionaries.  We keep an eye on them, and their movements are known to us.  But there are some special people among them, although not many: these are believers in God and Christians, and at the same time socialists.  They are the ones we are most afraid of; they are terrible people!  A socialist Christian is more dangerous than a socialist atheist."   One has to think... Why was Jesus put to death? :)