Career and Choice: No One Size Fits All

I recently enjoyed a novel by Lauraine Snelling,  No Distance Too Far, about a woman doctor in the early twentieth century. She faced difficulties in her profession in part because she was female. Fortunately, women now are more free to use their vocational gifts.

In fact, over half the labor force in the United States is now female. However, as we more or less expect all adults to become paid workers, problems develop. Articles in The Economist and The New York Times touch on these issues. We have less time for other activities: relationships with family and friends; care of our children, the sick, and the aging; volunteer work; physical exercise that keeps us fit; and creative work that fulfils us but doesn’t pay the bills. We are reminded of the survival mode of earlier times when all except a few elites labored during every waking hour.

Returning to the days of gender inequality is not an option. Also, those struggling simply to stay afloat in these times don’t have much choice but to continue. Some of us, however, can consider new work models, perhaps leading to wider discussion about our career-oriented world. Why not new patterns for the times in which we now live?

Part time work as a choice? Working at home for a period of one’s career? (More of a possibility because of the Internet.) Job sharing? And if a woman has the option to be a traditional stay-at-home wife and mother and chooses this path, we can support her in her choice.

 

What If Schools Were Marketed As Entertainment?

Do I understand correctly? Football players and owners are in negotiations over revenue sharing and profits. Figures bandied about are in the billions.

At the same time, teachers are being laid off in cities and towns all over the country. We don’t have the money to pay them.

I’m not suggesting anything is wrong with sports (although we would be healthier if we played them instead of watching from our living room couches). After all, the apostle Paul used sports metaphors in his letters and appeared to be knowledgeable about the games of the day.

Nor am I suggesting that all teachers are competent, wise, dedicated, and worthy of employment (though most of us can name teachers of high caliber who influenced us). Certainly, issues like seniority versus performance are matters for debate.

It does seem ironic, though, that we produce gobs of money for entertainment while skimping on investment in our children.

 

Multitudes Versus One-at-a-Time

News stories first reported the large number of Tunisians fleeing their country’s instability. The mostly young Tunisians attempt to cross the Mediterranean in boats to reach Europe. The reports now include Libyans. By the time you read this, other nationalities may be added. Some Europeans fear being overwhelmed by tides of seekers after a better life as many North African and Middle Eastern countries experience turmoil. We are reminded of the boat people from Cuba and Haiti in this hemisphere. Or, other boat people from Vietnam fleeing to more stable Asian nations.

In one of my stories, Kate, a young American thrust into a job in the Middle East, becomes aware of such needs. She is part of a sting operation to halt the illegal entry of young South Asian men into the United States. In recounting the success of the operation, she tells another character, “… they all looked so terrified. They began running in…different directions. … we can’t let them all into the U.S., can we? There are too many of them. But they’re not criminals or anything. They’re only looking for a job. What’s the answer?”

The story doesn’t give “the answer” in so many words. However, Kate later helps an abused maid return to her country with a relief agency job that might help her poverty-stricken village. The desperate needs of so many overwhelm us if we do not keep in mind that people are helped one at a time.

 

Visas and Stereotypes

For a time in my life, I was a U.S. Foreign Service officer and interviewed foreigners from a North African country applying for temporary visas to visit the United States. Since the country at the time was in a period of instability (and still is), many of those being interviewed saw a “temporary” visa to Europe or the U.S. as a path to a better life. Go “temporarily” and then remain, illegally if necessary.

As one who knows many blessings, I approached my job with humility. How could I not sympathize with the applicants and their problems? However, U.S. law required me to give temporary visas only to temporary visitors. The rules for permanent residence were more stringent, requiring sufficient family or employer support, among other requirements.

I had to refuse many, including one man who evidenced little reason to leave the U.S. if he were given a visa. Shortly after the refusal, the man’s relative living in the U.S. called to complain. As we talked, I tried to assure him that I had given the applicant a fair hearing, but that U.S. law forbade me to issue in this case. The caller’s parting shot at me was that since I had a Southern accent, I must be prejudiced against his relative.

I thought it ironic that he himself prejudged me. His idea, I suppose, is that if some Southerners are prejudiced, all Southerners are prejudiced, presumably against—well, against anyone not a native-born American, I suppose. Ironic also because, in another function of my job, I awarded immigrant visas to those of his nationality which allowed them to live legally and permanently in the United States. The difference did not concern origin but whether or not the applicant met the required legal standards.

The heart of prejudice is the attitude that assigns a stereotype to an individual because of his or her accent or nationality or color or political preference or whatever. The list is long. How much better if we remove the filters of group and relate as one individual to another.

 

Memories of Bahrain

The unrest in the Middle East has spread to the small multi-island country of Bahrain, off the east coast of Saudi Arabia and connected to it by a causeway. My husband and I were married in Bahrain in a Christian church.

We met in Saudi Arabia the year before through a mutual friend at the U.S. consulate where I was assigned by the U.S. State Department. My future husband, a fellow American expatriate, worked for an airline. Our whirlwind courtship included weekend runs in the desert with other expatriates. Or rather, he ran. I walked with the slower group over the goat trails wending through the rocky terrain.

When the courtship led to engagement, we decided to fly to Bahrain to be married, since no church existed in Saudi Arabia to marry us. We took our vows before an Egyptian pastor in a Christian mission begun in the 1800’s. We spent our honeymoon in the (then) relaxed atmosphere of the tiny island nation beside the Persian/Arabian Gulf.

I have a book spread before me, one of those coffee table types, that we bought then. One of its many photos illustrates Pearl Square, where the demonstrators now gather.

 

Wilderness Wanderings

Wilderness is a popular theme in stories of great leaders. Abraham Lincoln came out of the wilderness to usher the United States through the Civil War. George Washington suffered in Valley Forge before eventually bringing American troops to success . Winston Churchill knew his wilderness years when he lost political power for a decade before emerging to guide Britain to victory in World War II.

Jesus is no exception. After all, he was afflicted like one of us. After the blinding glory of his baptism, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness. Who hasn’t known wilderness days, sometimes years? Christian leaders like Charles Spurgeon and Amy Carmichael struggled with depression and illness over long periods.

What are these seemingly fruitless periods so many of us experience? We may ask the age-old question, where is God?

Jesus heard that his friend Lazarus was sick (New Testament, John 11), and we would expect him to rush off to heal his friend. After all Jesus healed in an instant others who came to him with illnesses. But though John tells us that Jesus loved Lazarus and his sisters, he stayed where he was for two days before finally traveling to the family and ministering to them. He loved them, but he stayed.
Oswald Chambers, in his classic My Utmost for His Highest, uses this passage to talk of God’s silence. The silence, Chambers says, is something God trusts us with. We receive no audible answer; perhaps we are in a wilderness of sorts and—nothing. Chambers suggests that the first sign of God’s intimacy may be his silence.

His silence isn’t a lack of love, but a tough love that trusts us.

 

Abide or Dominate?

When we Christians tie ourselves to any other than Jesus, the church suffers. When we tie ourselves, like so much of the world, to power and wealth and domination, Christianity suffers. Some force— the barbarian invasions of late antiquity, Muslims, Turks, the Enlightenment, and now, the “new atheism”—arises to contend with us and turn us into a remnant.

Jesus didn’t play power politics. He accepted death rather than raise an army and become another Caesar. When he made that final decision to die rather than do so, he told his disciples, “Abide in me.”
Christianity over the centuries has waxed and waned according to how seriously his followers have done that.

 

Remnant and Renewal

My sojourn in the North African nations of Algeria and Tunisia awakened an interest in Christian history. Why, I wondered, did Christianity fade from these regions where it grew so strongly in the early days of Christianity, where the church fathers once taught?

I visited ruins of ancient churches and pondered lines from a book I read: “The burden of history weighs . . . on remnant communities. What happened to their glory? Why was the good fight lost? Who were the strong of faith? Who were the weak? . . . Deserted cathedrals, abandoned monasteries, and a scattering of Christian villages in lands that were once the center of Christendom . . .” ( From an essay by Richard Bulliet in Conversion and Christianity, a collection of essays on Christian communities in early Islamic times, edited by Michael Gervers and Ramzi Jibran Bikhazi.)

The practice of Christianity for many Christians in these lands, even before the Muslim conquest, had become merely a cultural thing, a recognition of the state religion that Christianity had become. The eastern Roman empire (the one we call Byzantium) had amassed wealth and power, and these became the goals of its political and commercial leaders. Then Byzantium was vanquished by Islam, and Christianity declined in the lands which birthed it. From North Africa west of Egypt, it withered and disappeared. In Europe, however, a backwater of the world at that time, it matured.

Perhaps Christianity is always rising, falling, rising again, a picture of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.

Perhaps God cuts off his people when they move too far away from him, then gives his favor to more humble believers.

 

Tide Tables and Moral Choices

I learn from my beach walks why we moderns so often forget God. We are not many of us farmers or fishers anymore. Our lives and livelihoods are no longer directly bound to sun and rain, weather and seasons, tides and storms—forces we cannot control.

When we are hungry, we buy food at the grocery store; when we want light, we flip a switch; when we want clothes, we shop at the mall. The temporary abundance of the industrialized world has deluded us into believing we are in control and can do as we want.

Before I stroll on the beach, I should consult a tide table. Otherwise I risk, if not actually drowning, a slippery climb up crumbling bluffs to escape rising water. For the tide, as the saying goes, waits for no one. And therein lies its fascination. No matter how the times of the tides inconvenience us, we must abide by their immutable goings and comings.

Consequences of moral choices may not intrude so abruptly as consequences of physical ones. The effects of moral choices can be subtle, over years of tide turnings. For decades we chose bigger cars, bigger houses, mindless entertainment, and instant relationships. Then one day we realize gas is no longer affordable, the house is being foreclosed, world events that we have ignored threaten our country, and the problems of our neglected children overwhelm us.

In my beach wanderings I consider the lessons of history, biblical admonitions, my own choices and consequences over a lifetime. I ponder and am convinced that God’s moral laws are as sure as the running and turning of the tide.

 

Egypt: What About a Public Servant?

I read the news headline this morning: “Egypt: Explosion of anger decades in the making.”

Long-established dictatorships in the Arab world are threatened. Ben Ali, Tunisia’s leader since 1987, has fled to Saudi Arabia. Some take bets on how long before Egypt’s dictator, Hosni Mubarak, will follow Ben Ali. (Still in power as of this writing, but the situation changes hourly.) Others under the microscope include Algeria, Yemen, and even Saudi Arabia.

Does anyone remember 1989, the year countries of eastern Europe, beginning with Poland, threw off the yoke of Soviet Russia? Or a couple of years later when the Soviet Union itself ceased to exist? How about when Germans tore down the Berlin Wall, leading to eventual reunification of East and West Germany?

Is that ancient history now or is the Arab unrest a delayed extension of those movements? And what will it mean to U.S. interests in the Middle East, since Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Tunisia have been our allies in the fight against terrorism?

Why do leaders become so enamored with longevity, power, and wealth? Ben Ali’s party had been in power since 1956; Ben Ali is only the second leader to run the country. His relatives used the family connection to amass fortunes. Mubarak has been in power since 1981 and reportedly was grooming his son to take over after him. Others come to mind: Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, Kim Jong-il of North Korea.

Our own country has seen corruption and political scandals, but through the centuries since its birth, most Americans have professed belief that elected officials are chosen to serve us, not themselves. We often use the term “public servant.”

Perhaps a belief in servant-hood is the key to government that works for citizens instead of ignoring them. As long as most Americans believe this, our government may function reasonably well. And if those Arab demonstrations lead to servant leaders, those young Arabs who wave flags and shout slogans may be responsible for governments truly for the people. If not, the chances are great that the new leaders will be the old leaders with new names.

Of course, servant-hood may be more kin to spiritual grace than political savvy.

 

 

Transformation

A current theory is that religion is the cause of war, murder, terrorism, and the general nastiness that afflicts us.

The truth is, humans have treated each other badly since the beginning of recorded history, with or without religion. In the past, greed and the desire for wealth and power did not have to be explained. People wanted other people’s land, riches, or other possessions and if they were powerful enough, they took them. If you had a god, this proved your god was more powerful than your neighbor’s.

In the beginning, the Hebrews weren’t that different from other tribes around them. However, a new song echoed from the prophets. It was the idea that God favored, not the rich and powerful, but the dispossessed, the marginalized, the widows and orphans. These were to be protected and given a chance, not exploited.

Then Christians further revolutionized this idea. God came as Jesus, they said, not only to show us the way, but to give us the power to live this new way. Finally we have hope that we can be transformed from the old nature that desires to dominate and take. Of course, as Jesus said, calling oneself a Christian is not enough. What one does is the proof that one has or has not accepted transformation..

 

Memories of Tunisia

I lived in Tunisia, the small North African nation now in the news for its civil unrest, from 1997 to 2000. I served at the U.S. embassy in Tunis, the capital city. At that time, a tour there was an enjoyable assignment for U.S Foreign Service officers choosing the sometimes unsettled Middle East.

Young women dressed in the latest Paris fashions. I don’t recall any of them wearing a head scarf. Many were students in Tunisian universities. Our friends and family from the States visited us for trips to the Sahara and to stroll the nearby ancient city of Carthage. We took them to see the desert movie setting for the original Star Wars films. We boarded the train in downtown Tunis for the short ride to Carthage and a visit to the cemetery for American military personnel killed in Tunisia during Second World War campaigns against the Nazis.

The embassy during my assignment was located in downtown Tunis. On weekends, I would drive to the Embassy and park, then walk from there into the old city to worship in a centuries-old Christian church. The walk took me past a Muslim mosque and a Jewish synagogue. The Jewish settlement in Tunisia was ancient; some said it began with refugees from the conquest of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar in 605 B.C.

During the week, work load permitting, I enjoyed riding the bus from my home to work. Once in a while, for exercise, I walked all the way. We ate in local restaurants and visited ancient ruins scattered throughout the country. Tunisia at that time was perceived as a stable, progressive country, its beaches a destination for tourists from Germany and other countries. Golfers played on the links in Tunisia’s mostly sunny weather.

Now the tourists are being evacuated. The U.S. embassy moved to a newer facility in a safer location out from Tunis after the terrorist attacks on U.S. embassies in east Africa. I notice from news pictures that some of the women appear to be wearing head scarves. The train station where my friends and I took the train was burned by rioters. The Tunisian president fled to Saudi Arabia.

What happened? Why the sudden changes?

Unemployment and economic needs are cited as reasons. However, more than the economy is involved. Hard economic times can be endured if all perceive the suffering as shared. In Tunisia, for years, as average citizens struggled for decent jobs, the country’s rulers lived in luxury and used their power to grab wealth in corrupt business deals.

In the over half a century since Tunisia gained its independence from France, the country has had only two presidents, the last, Ben Ali, seizing power in a bloodless coup. Only one political party was allowed to rule, jailing and sometimes torturing any perceived opposition. Now the country has need of leaders not tainted by the old regime, but few have had experience in governing a country or understanding the democratic process.

How much better if those in power govern justly, not using their positions for their own gain, but understanding their responsibility to serve. Best if they rule in humility, allowing others to participate, realizing that no single group is all-wise. Both the political system and the economic one should be perceived as fair.

 

Christian Exile in Babylon

My novel, SINGING IN BABYLON, doesn’t actually take place in Babylon. Much of it takes place in Saudi Arabia. Babylon, however, is associated with exile by readers of the Old Testament, and Kate, a Christian, discovers a feeling of exile while teaching in Saudi Arabia.

In one scene, Kate and Philip are confined to Philip’s car during a dust storm. They have recently worshiped in an underground Christian church. Kate says, “It’s funny. I had to come to a Muslim country to find a Christian fellowship that feels like a resurrection community.”

Philip responds, “Here it’s like we’re exiles coming together.”

Later, on return to America, Kate’s sense of exile continues. Why? Certainly, in the U.S. Kate has freedom to openly worship as she chooses, but her new understanding reveals another kind of exile, that of exile from the values of the culture that surrounds her.

 

Community at Rest

Perhaps the current economic recession is an enforced rest, a kind of sabbatical that may strengthen community. Society now expects all Americans in their prime years to hold full-time, paying jobs. Indeed, our current standard of living requires it. Some single adults find it difficult to live on one income, much less a family. Leisure time for community, reflection, creativity, and caring has all but vanished.

The pain of the recession is real. Americans lose their homes, go without proper nourishment, and forgo medical care. Nevertheless, those of us in less dire straights might reflect on the change to a less consumer-oriented society, temporarily at least.

We might ponder the cost exacted by the frantic pace of the past few years. Or we might take a few hours to read about the rest of the world and what America’s place will be in it in the years to come. Or—who knows—we might muse about those shootings in Arizona and what we may learn from them.

Times of hardship and tragedy sometimes uncover our deep needs for family, friendships, and community.

 

Subversives or Exiles?

When SINGING IN BABYLON was published and I began blogging, I considered that my slogan might be: “Subversive Christians on the World’s Stage.” This would be my “brand.” (Brand is a current buzzword, something that identifies you with your “tribe,” another buzzword.)

It didn’t seem to impress an editor at a writers’ conference I attended. Subversive might have connotations I didn’t intend. I certainly didn’t mean subversive in the sense of a subversive movement like al-Qaeda. No insurgency that claims innocent lives. No, nothing like that. Nor do I mean the undermining of core Christian beliefs.

I meant something like Walter Brueggemann discusses in Deep Memory, Exuberant Hope. He talks about the baptized community in the Christian West as being in something like exile ” … in consumer-oriented capitalism in the West, where the church is a cultural problem or at least an inconvenience.” (Page 10.)

Perhaps exile is a better term than subversive. We are exiled Christians on the world’s stage. We’re subversives against the worship of greed, power, and self that sooner or later drags down every civilization. We’re subversives in living lives of self-discipline and compassion against the world’s dominant values of self-centeredness and consumerism. We live intentional lives, not ones of passive submission to our culture.

 

The West and the Rest

My childhood church supported a missionary family in Nigeria. This relationship first stoked my interest in places beyond the Christianity that I knew in America. Now, after sojourns in countries vastly different from my own, I believe the need grows for American Christians to learn even more about the non-Western world.

The phrase “the West and the rest” became popular following the publication in 1996 by Samuel P. Huntington of The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order. Richard K. Betts discussed this book and two others in an article in Foreign Affairs magazine

Betts states: “The sacred concepts of freedom, individualism, and cooperation are so ingrained in U.S. political culture that most people assume them to be the natural order of things, universal values that people everywhere would embrace if given the chance.”

We no longer can make such assumptions, if we ever could. Best that Christians grow in understanding of the changed world we live in, one that may not be as respectful of our ideals as in the past. We may have to work harder to prove the worth of those ideals.

 

Lessons From Ignorance

When I was about three or so, I thought little people lived inside the radio that grownups listened to and made the voices that I heard from there. At that age, I had no capacity to understand radio transmission waves. Little people inside a radio seemed reasonable based on my knowledge that people made voices.

Perhaps that is why, today, I suspect that all our theories and discoveries and knowledge are akin to those of a three-year-old trying to understand how people speak through a radio. God gave us brains and the ability to explore with our minds. To do so surely is one of our joys. We should advance our ideas, however, with much humility. Whatever ideas we advance are finite explanations dealing with the infinite.

The only thing I’m certain of is the value of what the Greeks called agape love. Jesus the Christ, whose birth we just celebrated, modeled this love. It values another as one values oneself.

One can’t have agape love if one doesn’t love oneself. Do remember, Jesus didn’t want to die. Not for him the self-loathing of suicide bombers or those whose rage leads them to murder fellow workers or strangers in a crowded restaurant or school children. His death was for others, out of love.

Jesus loved life. He turned water into wine so a marriage feast might progress. He spoke of his Father’s kingdom with metaphors of feasting and banquets.

Jesus knew the Father’s love and could love himself and know himself of worth and carry out the purpose God had for him. It seems to me that’s the pattern laid out for us: somebody loves us—God, if we will accept it. When we realize that we are of value, we can love ourselves, then love God, then those around us, and, if we allow God’s love to grow in us, even our enemies.

 

Called TO as well as FROM

Jesus came, not only to call us FROM our sins but TO a new life of purpose, meaning, direction.

Whether from the lure of drugs or prostitution or from the entanglements of anger or envy, Jesus calls us away from them, surely, but he gives us new tasks.

Releasing the exploited from the grip of the exploiters is not enough. Many revolts against despotic regimes flounder once the despots are gone. Too often the liberators become the new despots.

To simply “free” people is not enough; they become like the person in Jesus’ parable who was freed of unclean spirits only to have other spirits take over in the vacuum left by the departing evil. We need nurture as well as salvation, to discover, in community, our particular gifts and talents, a lifelong journey.

 

The Idea of Jubilee at Christmas

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Suppose Christians celebrated Christmas like a Biblical time of Jubilee?

Most of us give to some charity or other at Christmas. Suppose we, perhaps gradually over the next few years, decrease the amount of giving to ourselves and families and friends and give more to the causes outside ourselves that turn us on? Those that inspire us with the ideal of changing humankind through a meeting of physical and spiritual needs.

We hear the old refrain each time at Christmas about too much materialism and the ignoring of the real “reason for the season.” Only, since retailers depend on the holidays for as much as a third of their selling, wouldn’t the economy wreck (further) if we stopped our Christmas splurges? We don’t want to increase our country’s economic woes do we?’

According to economists, the poor and less well-off must spend every bit of money that comes their way. So what we give to the poor is more likely to wend its way into the economy of the country, it seems to me. A true stimulus package. Likewise, the help we give the spiritually needy may reap dividends if they become more useful members of society.

Christmas, a time of Jubilee

 

Why I Don’t Go All Out For Christmas

I spent my first Christmas away from my family when my job took me to an assignment in a foreign country, beginning in early December. Christians were a hidden minority. They didn’t worship openly, but I found a house church.

Our celebration of Christmas was probably nearer the first Christmas than the ones I celebrated as I was growing up. Certainly the scenery resembled the first one. Nobody dragged around Christmas trees or watched movies about a white Christmas or Rudolph or Frosty the Snowman. This scenery included desert scrub and flocks of sheep and even camels if you ventured far enough away from the city.

A British couple invited me to Christmas dinner. I learned about those party favors that you pull apart to make a snap sound. I don’t remember what we had to eat, but it probably wasn’t a turkey, and ham was forbidden in that country. Mainly, I enjoyed the fellowship with new friends who shared my beliefs about the reason for Christmas.

The next year I asked for leave during the Christmas holidays and traveled to the U.S. to spend the season with my family. I couldn’t wait to attend a real Christmas Eve service with carols and a real choir and evergreens and children dressed in bathrobes and all the other trappings of my religion at Christmas.

Being with my family was wonderful, but I was disappointed when I didn’t receive the high I was expecting from the service. It was nice, but I guess I’d built myself up for it too much.

In the years ahead, I spent other Christmases in lands that didn’t officially celebrate the holiday, where, for the local folk, it was just another work day. Forget open Yuletide decorating—not advised because it might offend. I chose gifts from catalogs and let Amazon or Lands’ End send them to family members. No rushing around crowded malls to become jaded by hearing Jingle Bells for the 1,000th time. Instead, I remember a carol sing in a private home and a clandestine Christmas concert.

Today, back home, I just can’t get into the swing of the normal Christmas. I keep remembering celebrations of simple gatherings to fellowship and remember Christ’s birth.