[T]he new order of the kingdom does not arise from within existing power relationships but quite independently of them, at the margins of society.
~ Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man, 122.
I recently presented a few seminars at a conference in Toronto that explored some (more or less) Christian perspectives on social justice. The conference was well attended (750+ people) and I greatly enjoyed the dialogue that I had with both the other seminar leaders (or whatever you call people who give seminars) and with old and new friends that were in attendance.
However, there were a few things that seemed a little odd about the conference.
To begin with, I thought that it was a little odd that that the conference was hosted in a church that had allocated around $12 million dollars to the church building, while only simultaneously allocating approximately $1.5 million dollars to “social justice” related issues. Now, if you dig into this a bit (which, I have discovered, some others have), you will discover that this church had all sorts of “good reasons” for building a a multi-million dollar compound… but, of course, how “good” those reasons are all depends on the paradigm through which we understand things like “Church,” “community,” “love,” and, of course, “justice.” Indeed, I might be inclined to suggest that this is but another example of the way in which growth actually makes it impossible for us to fulfill our vocation as Christians (I've watched this happen over and over with Christian institutions: be those social service agencies, churches, or colleges). Church “growth” is most definitely not an unequivocally good thing, and sometimes I think churches need to put an end to growth and send their people elsewhere — like to a church that is walking distance from home, you know, a church that is actually a part of the community in which a person lives.
Which, by the way, is the second thing I found a little odd about the community in which the conference occurred. The church where the conference was held is located in a city outside of Toronto — although it is still a part of the “Greater Toronto Area” — a city that just happens to be the wealthiest city in Ontario (and one of the top ten wealthiest cities in Canada [at least according to the 2001 Canada Census — all the results aren't in from the 2006 Canada Census]). So, one might wonder, why is it that we are holding a conference that stresses the theme of solidarity with the marginalised in an extremely wealthy community that is notorious for forcing out its poor? Well, some have suggested that it is precisely this community that needs to attend to this conference. Perhaps that is true… although the opening quote that I pulled from Myers' book might cause us to begin to rethink this approach. To root such a conference in this city suggests to me that we might still be attached to models that pursue transformation from the centre to the peripheries — from the powerful to the powerless. However, to attach oneself to models that believe that transformation moves from the peripheries to the centre — thereby questioning our general understanding of power and power relations — might suggest that another location may have been more suitable.
The third major thing that bothered me about the conference was the price. Depending on when one registered, and depending on whether or not one registered as part of a group of ten or more, one ended up paying between $69 and $89. Now, in my books, that's quite a bit of money and, although there were some big name speakers (Ron Sider, Jim Wallis, and Shane Claiborne being the big three), I would of thought twice about attending if I was paying to be there. Indeed, I think that such high prices probably prevented quite a few people from attending the conference. However, seeing as it was held in such a wealthy city/church, this might not have been that big of a deal. Regardless, it strikes me as unfortunate that a conference on social justice would, from the get-go, exclude those who don't have that sort of money to throw around for a one day event (oh, and meals were not included in that price… or transportation for that matter — the church was located in an industrial complex so it seemed that one needed access to a car in order to be able to attend).
So, what do we do with all this? If we are to be critical, how can we also find a positive way forward? Well, I've got a few ideas but I would be interested to hear what others think. Are these significant concerns? If they are, where would be a good place to go with all this?
Oh, and there was one final point that caught me off-guard a little — probably more due to poor communication than anything. It was this: nobody told me that what I said would be recorded and then sold (maybe I was just supposed to assume that that would occur?). That's right, for $10 you can own your very own copy of my seminar. However, since I'm a little uncomfortable with that (i.e. with being unknowingly commodified), you could also just email me and I'll burn you a copy of the CD that I'm receiving and I'll mail it to you (although if you wanted to pay for postage that would be nice… but not mandatory).

Having recently worked my way through the Gospel according to Matthew, I've been spending some time thinking about the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Mt 20.1-16).
In this parable, Jesus tells the story of a landowner who hires day-labourers to work in his vineyard. The owner hires some workers very early in the day, then he hires some more at the third hour, some more at the sixth hour, some more at the ninth hour, and some more at the eleventh hour. Then, when the time came for the labourers to be paid, the owner pays the labourers in the reverse order — those hired last are paid first, and those hired first are paid last. What is shocking is that the owner pays all the labourers the same wage — a full day's pay. Although this is the wage that was promised to the first labourers hired, they are shocked that they do not receive more, since they worked many hours more than the labourers who were hired later in the day. However, the owner is adamant that he is not being unfair to those hired first; rather, he says, they should not be envious of the generosity that he has the right to show unto others. Jesus then concludes the parable with these words:
So the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.
Now, as I have turned this around in my mind, I have wondered about the way we seem to take this statement. Hearing that the “last shall be first, and the first shall be last” makes us think of a reverse ordering. Thus, for example, let's say we have a race where Steve came in first, Mike came in second, Dave came in third, and Adam came in fourth. If the last are going to be first, and the first are going to be last, then we would expect Adam to come in first, Dave to come in second, Mike to come in third, and Steve to come in fourth.
But this is not at all what Jesus is saying. In the context of this parable, when Jesus says that “the last shall be first, and the first shall be last,” he means that all will receive an equal share. It's not that the order is reversed, it's that everybody ends up coming in first.
In Jesus' parable, the labourers, who were hired earlier in the day, are offended by the sort of generosity that rewards all people equally. Having spent some years journeying alongside of those on the margins of society, I know that members of our society (both Christians and those of other faiths as well) are, in general, just as repulsed by this approach to equality.
Indeed, our society perpetuates an Equality Myth, in order to sustain inequalities in our day to day life. Now what exactly is this “Equality Myth” that I am talking about? The equality myth that drives our society is the myth that all members of our society are provided with an equal opportunity to “succeed” and live comfortably. If a person fails to attain these ends it must because that person lacks a serious work ethic or because that person lacks integrity (or is simply an evil person). Thus, precisely because we are all equal, I don't have to treat the homeless or the poor as my equals. After all, they are to blame for their poverty, their illnesses, their vices, and their early deaths.
The problem with this Equality Myth is that it is fictional. In our society, we do not all have an equal opportunity. I know many people who possess a strong work ethic, and who have a great deal of integrity — who also happen to be street-involved. I know all sorts of kids who never had a chance or anything close to a chance. Our society is sustained by a great deal of inequalities, a great deal of injustices, but the Equality Myth allows us to ignore such things, and pretend that we don't have to do anything to alter unjust circumstances.
Thus, Jesus' parable of the workers in the vineyard, confronts our Equality Myth and points us to the type of generosity that genuinely does treat all people as equals. Understanding that “the last shall be first, and the first shall be last” requires me to treat all people — including the poor and the homeless (or should I say, especially the poor and the homeless) — as my equals. As my equals, I do not treat them as people who are lazy, nor do I treat them as people who lack integrity; rather, I recognize that they are, more often than not, just as hard working, and just as righteous, as I am (and often they are more righteous and more hard-working than I am).
This is the sort of paradigm shift that is needed for Christians to meaningfully journey alongside of those on the margins of society. When the Church becomes a community of radical sharing and shocking generosity, then it will expose the violence created by society's Equality Myth, and reveal the true road to equality.

Recently the Mayor's Office of Vancouver launched a new “major initiative” entitled Project Civil City (cf. http://www.mayorsamsullivan.ca/pdf/project-civil-city.pdf). This initiative, which is a part of Vancouver's gearing up to host the 2010 Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games, has four major goals. It aims to (and I quote):
(1) Eliminate homelessness, with at least a 50% reduction by 2010.
(2) Eliminate the open drug market on Vancouver's streets, with at least a 50% reduction by 2010.
(3) Eliminate the incidence of aggressive panhandling with at least a 50% reduction by 2010.
(4) Increase the level of public satisfaction with the City's handling of public nuisance and annoyance complaints by 50% by 2010.
In this post, I want to focus on goal (3).
As a part of gathering research for this document the Mayor's Office initiated a public survey (to which 2469 people responded). Question #4 of this survey reads as follows:
Please indicate which of the following public disorder issues are of most concern to you (check all that apply):
Littering
Aggressive panhandling
Sleeping/camping in public parks or on beaches
Noise infractions (e.g. loud motorcycles, stereos, car alarms)
Open drug use in public places
Graffiti and tagging
Cyclists not wearing helmets
Public urination/defecation
Excessive garbage on streets and in alleyways
Jaywalking
Other
The issue that was of the most concern to the most people (2058 people, or 83.35%) was “aggressive panhandling” and of those who then went on to discuss this issue in more open-ended questions (only 17% of those surveyed) only 22% expressed the “sentiment” (yes, that is the word used in the document) that the Mayor's office should look to the “root causes” of this issue. Now, I find this troubling for a number of reasons.
First of all, it baffles me that “aggressive panhandling” is a greater concern for our city than, say, people sleeping in public places (of course, given the past and current approaches taken by City Hall to issues of homelessness, I would be hesitant to check the box beside people sleeping in public, lest City Hall use this as an excuse to start ticketing, or jailing, people who sleep outside — a strategy employed, not that long ago, by New York City cops… and Vancouver seems to be keen to follow in NY's footsteps — so the survey, like most surveys, is a bit of a catch-22). However, the fact that so many people are keen to reduce “aggressive panhandling” while so few are interested in getting to the root of the issue, suggests to me that the motive here is not so much concern for the people panhandling as it is a desire to just get those people out of my face.
Secondly, I am concerned as to what exactly constitutes “aggressive” panhandling. Not that long ago Vancouver followed in the footsteps of Toronto and passed “The Safe Streets Act” (cf. http://www.city.vancouver.bc.ca/ctyclerk/cclerk/20041005/motionb1.htm). Now this act actually has very little to do with making the streets “safe” but it does have a whole lot to do with removing poverty from the public eye and with furthering the distance between the rich and the poor. This Act determines that panhandling is “aggressive” when it occurs too close to a bus stop, a bank machine, a public toilet, a parking lot, or if the person being solicited is in a car. Furthermore, simply asking a person for change can be determined as an act of “aggression,” and having a sign that asks for change can also be considered “aggressive” and those who engage in such acts can be ticketed (I know one youth in Toronto who racked up $850 in tickets at various downtown locations over a three hour period — because he was trying to get together enough money to buy lunch. Not only did he not end up with enough money for lunch, he also ended up with an astronomical bill that he couldn't hope to pay). Thus, by using the rhetoric of “aggression,” the police and “concerned citizens” (like downtown businesses) can effectively target all panhandlers.
Thirdly, I don't really understand what the big deal is with panhandlers that do end up being more genuinely “aggressive” than others. The most commonly cited case in this regard — and the case that was used to propel Toronto's and Vancouver's “Safe Street” Acts into being — is the case of “squeegie kids” — teens that would wash the windshields of cars stopped at traffic lights in order to earn some change (I know a number of kids who liked to do this because it gave them at least a semblance of dignity — they were working for their money instead of just, in the words of one of my friends, “begging like some bum”). Now it is true that some of these people could get a bit aggressive, they would start washing your windshield before you had a chance to say no. But here's the thing — I don't know a single person in sales who isn't trained to operate “aggressively.” When I worked at a fast food restaurant (ah, those were the days), we were trained to do all sorts of things to make extra money — if the customer asked for a burger, we asked if they wanted cheese on it, or if they wanted a combo. If they wanted a combo we asked if they wanted to biggie size. And then we asked them if they wanted an apple pie for dessert. It's the same in clothing stores. Clerks are encouraged to try and sell more and sell more expensive items. We all know this happens. Yet if a homeless kid acts this way we get a city up in arms, supporting initiatives like Project Civil City. If we're ticketing panhandlers then why aren't we ticketing fast-food chains or retail stores or pretty much anybody else who is trying to make money?
So, all in all, I can't say that I'm that thrilled by this new initiative (I may comment further on the other goals in future posts). Instead of being a step in the trajectory of genuine transformation and care, it is a step that continues the well established routine of City Hall persecuting the poor in order to gain the approval of the wealthy and of corporate business.
Furthermore, that this should be associated with the Olympics comes as no surprise. As noted by a sociologist in Toronto, hosting the Olympics constantly benefits the rich while furthering the oppression of the poor within the host cities (cf. http://mostlywater.org/node/9954). I saw something of this first-hand when Toronto was engaged in bidding for the 2008 Olympics. When the International Olympic Committee (IOC) came to Toronto, the Toronto police went around to all the places where youth were sleeping outside, they gathered up the kids, built a few bonfires, burned all the belongings that were present at the squats (I knew one 16 year old girl who owned only a backpack that contained a picture of her grandparents, a sketchbook, and the teddy bear that she had owned since she was a young girl… and all these things were thrown into the fire), and then packed the kids off to jail. Then, after the IOC left town, the youth were simply kicked back out onto the streets (only this time with no belongings). Thus, as Vancouver gears up to become a more “civil” Olympic host city, I suspect that things will only get worse for those on the margins.

As I journey alongside of those who are (needlessly) in exile today I am often faced by questions like these:
“What about the rich? What about the comfortable? Aren't we suppose to commit ourselves to journeying alongside of these people as well? Shouldn't we be living in solidarity with them too?”
Now then, apart from the fact that these questions are always raised by Christians that are (surprise, surprise) rich and comfortable (which makes me wonder just a wee bit about the objectivity of the questioners), I have tried to answer these questions in a few different ways in prior blog entries and, for the most part, I'll try not to repeat what I have already said elsewhere.
However, I was doing some reading in Exodus with these questions in mind and I was struck by Moses' interactions with Pharaoh. Upon my first reading I thought that the answer was simple: Moses clearly sided with the Hebrew slaves, and he sided against Pharaoh as well as the wealthy, comfortable Egyptians. Therefore, I thought, because those of us who follow Jesus are to be a people proclaiming the end of exile, and the end of slavery, we must side with some people and against other people. Moses has very little interest in journeying alongside of Pharaoh; in fact, he seems to demonstrate no interest whatsoever in journeying alongside of the rich and comfortable in Egypt.
However, even I am a little uncomfortable with that conclusion. I really don't like the idea of siding wholeheartedly against any person, or any people group. Certainly resistance, subversion, and even outright (nonviolent) rebellion are all necessary things, yet the idea of completely discarding an entire group of people does not sit well with me. It seems that the liberation that Christ offers is a freedom that liberates both the oppressed from oppression and the oppressors from being oppressors.
Therefore, I reread the Exodus story with that question in mind — where, in this story, does God (or Moses) offer liberation to Pharaoh? And then it hit me. The whole time I was thinking that God's command — “Let my people go!” — was a command that sought the liberation of the Hebrews. Don't get me wrong, it is that. However, it is also a demand that seeks the liberation of Pharaoh. By calling Pharaoh to stop enslaving the Hebrews, God is calling Pharaoh to conversion and liberation. God is offering Pharaoh the freedom to stop enslaving others; he is offering Pharaoh a wondrous new way of living. He is offering Pharaoh salvation.
As I thought some more about this in light of the various ways in which Jesus' call is extended to various people in his ministry (unconditionally to the woman who washes his feet, conditionally to the rich young ruler — i.e. Jesus' call seems to be one of radical welcome to the poor and one that requires radical conversion on the part of the wealthy), I realized that the offer of salvation, that the call to conversion, looks very different depending on whether a person is oppressed or whether a person is an oppressor.
Consequently, I am lead to conclude that, yes, we are called to journey in solidarity with the wealthy and the comfortable of this world. However, the way in which we show our solidarity with the wealthy looks very different than the solidarity we share with the poor.
To the poor we say: your sins are forgiven, go and sin no more. And this is an expression of our solidarity with them.
To the wealthy we say: let God's people go. And this is what solidarity with the wealthy looks like. It is the type of solidarity that liberates them from having their humanity warped by their role as an oppressor and allows them to be restored to the truly glorious image of God — the image of God that is especially embodied by the crucified Christ.

I would like not to have this job. It has cost me my dreams.
~ Oleksander Mazur, an officer in the UN's international police force (CIVPOL) who works with trafficked women and children
A short time ago a scandal surfaced within Canada's national police force (the RCMP). A fellow named David Ramsay, a provincial court judge in the province of British Columbia, had been accused of engaging in sexual activities with aboriginal teen female prostitutes (some of whom had appeared in his court) and the police had engaged in a lengthy investigation. After a couple years spent gathering evidence and building an airtight case, Judge Ramsay was charged and he pleaded guilty in 2004 to doing such things as having sex with girls as young as twelve, and, in one case, smashing a child's face into the dashboard of his car and then forcing her to hitchhike naked from a rural area back into the city. Ramsay was sentenced to 7 years (of course, this means he'll probably only actually serve a few years of hard time).
However, in the investigation of this judge, information had surfaced that suggested that nine RCMP officers had also engaged in sexual activities with underage prostitutes.
Of course, for those of who journey alongside of women and youth who are sexually exploited this sort of thing is old news. I have lost count of all the stories I have been told by girls (yes, girls, not yet women) about the times they have been picked up and sexually exploited by police officers. Time and time again these girls are picked up and given the option of being charged with working the stroll as a minor or engaging in sexual activities with the officers and thus avoiding all charges. And I've known girls who have been raped because they refused to bargain with the officers (of course, to balance out the stories I have been told by girls, I have also been told countless stories by boys about being violently beaten by police officers — and I have seen the proof on their bodies).
Therefore, as a follow-up of the Ramsay investigation, I was not surprised to hear that Constable Justin Harris of the RCMP was being charged with engaging in sexual activity with prostitutes under the age of 18. Harris was also being investigated for assaulting one of the girls because she asserted that, when she refused to have perform oral sex without a condom, he hit her in the face. Another girl also described Harris as a “bad date” — a term used for johns that act aggressively or violently. Such stories are nothing short of horrific but I found it encouraging that the ongoing corruption within Canada's national police force was finally getting some attention. Perhaps a conviction in the Harris case (which, given the evidence, seemed like a rather done deal) would open the door to prosecuting other officers (like the 8 other officers implicated in the Ramsay case). Further, a conviction in the Harris case would, perhaps, encourage others who are raped and beaten by police officers (and a pretty regular basis) to gain the courage to come forward and press charges.
But there's a catch. You see, it is the police who police the police. Constable Harris sat before a panel of three senior RCMP officers from other provinces. And his case was thrown out. Not because evidence was lacking. Not because the Constable was innocent. Harris' case was thrown out because of the questionable usage of a technicality. You see, when the RCMP does internal reviews they have one year to build the case and press charges against an officer. If that year expires without charges being pressed, then that officer cannot be charged with the content of that investigation. Consequently, the panel determined that, even though the official investigation of Constable Harris had followed the proper internal protocol, the RCMP did have evidence of Harris' activities much earlier when Judge Ramsay was first being investigated. Thus, the panel determined that Harris could not be charged (nor, by implication, could any other officer implicated in the Ramsay investigation).
Harris walks away a free man, and if you follow the mainstream media, this is a good thing. Over and over reporters have stressed how difficult this process has been for Harris, how depressed it has made him, and how it has put such a strain on his marriage. We are lead to believe that it is the investigation that makes things hard for Harris' wife — not the fact that he assaulted, beat and had sex with children. You see, Harris is the victim, and the girls that he abused, well, they never get mentioned, and their voices are never heard. And so, we all learn an important lesson — don't bring charges against the police. Suffer in silence.
Do I really need to go into why this is all so infuriating?

Naim Ateek, a Palestinian priest and liberation theologian, has had the opportunity to observe firsthand the ways in which oppressive power often lurks behind a mask of charity. In Justice and Only Justice, he writes:
It is part of the deception of power that repressive governments are deluded into believing that through benevolence they can lay the right foundation for harmonious relations with the people they rule. Such governments cannot see that what people really need is not benevolence but a sense of justice… It is far easier for repressive governments and military regimes to resort to philanthropy than to justice. Sympathy and philanthropy in such cases are part of the exhibition of hypocrisy.
I would like to suggest that what Ateek says is true not only of repressive governments and military regimes, it is also true of the average middle-class North American. Instead of seeking justice for the poor and the marginalised — instead of realising that justice is owed to the poor and the marginalised — middle (and upper) class people prefer to offer them donations and charity. Of course, when charity is understood in this way it is comparable to the story told by Leo Tolstoy in his book Resurrection. A rich man seduces a young woman and, after having had his way with her, he thrusts a bundle of money into her hands. Sadly, all too often our charity is like money that a rapist throws on a victim.
Thus, one is, once again, reminded of the words of Dom Helder Camara, who once said:
When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint, but when I ask why the poor have not been eating, they call me a communist.
Yes, there is a lot of room for benevolence within our society, as long as that benevolence is divorced from justice.
This already provocative train of thought leads me to thoughts that are likely even more provocative. Let me explain.
Working with street-involved and homeless youth (and adults), one regularly hears discussions around the topic of “enabling.” “Enabling” is understood as charity that, despite good intentions, actually harms the person to whom the charity is extended. Thus, enabling would be understood as giving money to a drug addict who is jonzing. The intentions are good but the addict is just going to go and get high with the money. Therefore, many people would argue that it is better not to give money to the addict at all.
Of course, what has been entirely missing from this discussion is the realisation that charitable organisations, by accepting money from corporations like the Royal Bank of Canada, Shell, Nike, etc., are actually enabling the ongoing oppression and abuse of the poor! By licking the boots of executives from Canadian banks, we ensure that kids stay on the streets, and that families stay in poverty, while also providing the powers with the assurance that they're actually running good and moral institutions. By accepting benevolence divorced from justice, charitable organisations support the larger structures that ensure that the poor stay poor, that the debtors stay in debt, and that the marginalised stay on the margins. By gratefully accepting the money offered by oppressive institutions we ensure that we will never see the systemic changes that we long for. Essentially, we reinforce the lies told be the structures of power — lies that justify the wealth and comfort of a few, and the poverty and suffering of many.
Therefore, if enabling is to be a topic of discussion amongst Christian charitable agencies we must ask how we are enabling oppression — not only in our relationships with the poor and the helpless, but also in our relationships with the rich and the powerful.

[W]hat has been absent for us is the affirmation of a possible apprehension of this world beyond that as a field of objects considered as pragmata.
~ George Grant, In Defense of America
In an essay entitled The Question Concerning Technology, Martin Heidegger argues that technology is far more than a mere tool used by people to accomplish certain tasks. Technology is actually a means of revelation (an “enframing”) that shapes how we see and understand the world. And the problem with technology is that it causes us to see things only in terms of their usefulness as means to certain ends (everything becomes a “standing-reserve”). Thus, as the quote from George Grant argues, things are only meaningful if they are useful, they are considered as “pragmata”. Consequently, in Technology and the Character of Contemporary Life, Albert Borgmann argues that we have transformed meaningful things into commodities. Things do not have any sort of transcendent being or inherent meaning, they are only meaningful to the extent that they can be used or consumed.
However, this enframing does not only impact the way people treat the world of objects outside of themselves. It also becomes the way in which people understand other people, and even the way in which people understand themselves. As a result of this enframing people are treated as commodities, as objects of exchange, as goods to be consumed — and people who cannot be fit into this grid are further dehumanised and ostracised. Consider the crisis of meaning involved in our interactions with the handicapped and with seniors. Consider the crisis of meaning undergone by those who become terminally ill.
I believe that this reduction of people to goods within an ever increasing mentality of consumption has had a significant and negative impact upon how we journey with homeless youth. There are two consequences that I want to highlight: (1) the way in which society treats charity as an exchange of goods; and (2) the way in which social service agencies treat homeless youth as commodities. Sadly, Christians are just as implicit in all this as people of other faiths. So let me draw out each of these consequences a little.
1. Charity as the Exchange of Consumer Goods
Within modern technological and capitalist societies, charity is primarily understood as donating money to certain causes. Of course this is already problematic from a Christian perspective. Jesus calls us to not only give alms, but to also clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit those in prison, and invite strangers into our homes. Yet somehow the Church has decided it would be best to outsource these activities to homeless shelters, soup kitchens, and social workers. No wonder the Western Church is in crisis. When we outsource activities that are so central to our identity we can hardly go on living Christianly in other areas. We find the demands of Christianity too demanding, so we pay others to act Christianly for us. And it is this that we call charity.
But our charity is even worse than this. Because we have such a broad selection of charities to choose from, we look for the charity that will give us the most bang for our buck. We want to give money to successful charities, we want to give our money to a shelter that is getting kids off of the streets, off of drugs, and into the workforce — we don’t want to waste our money on an agency that isn’t very good at those things. This decision making process makes charity into the exchange of goods. We do not give money freely, we expect something in return. This is why social service agencies regularly put together booklets of stories for donors. They provide us with money and we provide them with pictures and success stories “from the front-lines” and, voila, the exchange of goods is complete. Sad stories, stories of failure or loss, are deliberately edited out, so we are left with a satisfying, but essentially fictional, exchange.
2. The Commodification of Homeless Youth
This fictionality then goes on to impact the way homeless youth are generally treated in social service agencies. Homeless youth are treated as commodities, not as persons. Youth are put onto sobriety plans, job plans, and housing plans. Should such plans be too difficult for them, they are expelled from the program and sent back onto the street. And this is done because donors won’t provide money for agencies that aren’t getting kids clean and sober, getting kids jobs, and getting kids housed. Thus, youth that cannot be turned into commodities in this exchange are kicked out of the program. Unfortunately, this means that far more kids are kicked back on to the street than are housed. This is so because these kids generally need a lot more than a shelter bed and a plan.
These kids need to be treated as persons, loved as persons, and respected as persons. And that means we should engage with them with humility, following Christ’s model of suffering love, vulnerability, and helplessness. This means journeying with kids in the midst of their addictions, loving them in the midst of their violence, and suffering with them in the midst of their brokenness. And, if we are committed to these things, chances are we’ll have trouble convincing donors that we are “successful” as an agency. So we don’t commit to these things.

The violence we preach is not
the violence of the sword,
the violence of hatred.
It is the violence of love,
of brotherhood,
the violence that wills to beat weapons
into sickles for work.
~ Oscar Romero
I wonder to what extent the use of, and backlash to, the language of violence as it has been propriated by the state, and rejected by the social workers, has impacted Christianity. One side wants all the power it can grasp and will take power forcefully. The other side wants nothing to do with power or force, and labels anything that resembles those things as “violence”.
Which leaves Christians in a rather sticky situation. Because Christians cannot fully align themselves with either camp. Christians cannot be caught up in the language of domination, nor should they be caught up in a total relinquishing of power. To bring healing uninvited, to offer a hope unlooked for, to continue to journey with those who would reject you — such things, when enacted properly, cannot be labeled as “violence”.
Cruciform power is the model and the standard set for Christians. Ours is the violence of love. It is allowing violence to be inflicted upon ourselves so that peace may bear fruit. It is placing ourselves in the line of fire until there are no bullets left to be shot. It is a voice that says, “Ya basta“. Enough is enough.

I don't wear a poppy because I remember who it was that died to make me free. I remember Jesus and his refusal to fight even the enemies of his loved ones.
I don't wear a poppy because I remember that governments cannot make me more or less free, only more or less comfortable.
I don't wear a poppy because I remember that 'the war to end all wars' was followed by another war in which we fire bombed Japanese and German civilians. And I remember the atrocities that our oh so victorious armies have continued to commit around the world.
I don't wear a poppy because I am ashamed of the government of my nation and because I mourn the things which it glorifies.
I don't wear a poppy because a poppy symbolises a false memory and disguises our collective forgetfulness.