Judah: The Responsibility of Voice

It was very interesting to me when I heard that the strong European avoidance of everything having to do with church and Christianity is largely a result of what people percieved as complicity in violence (both during WWII and in the religious wars following the Reformation). I heard about this secularization and post-Christian attitude of Europe as a warning to the U.S. churches:

we must be careful about the violence that we as the Church are currently being complicit in.

This struck a chord in me. The Church has been called out of the violent and alienating ways of the world; the Gospel is the good news about reconciliation - with God and with each other. If we are remaining in the systems of violence which we have been called out of, if we forsake the reconciliation which Christ has called us to, than is not our Church-ness and our "gospel's" Gospel-ness called into question?

How am I complicit to the violence that is currently being done in the name of American imperialism? Complicity does not simply include active support; it can also include passive indifference. If I am not raising my voice against the injustices that are being done in my name (as part of the "American People"), then will I not be called to give account on the day of Justice? "Why did you not stand for the oppressed? Why did you not resist the violence?"

The weight of this responsibility comes down even harder on people like me, who live in a place where my political voice actually has significance. I do not want to be complicit to my nation's violence; I want to do all I can to stop the violence that is being done through my country's military, economic, and cultural endeavors.

It is a simple start, but I have started writing my Senator (John McCain) more often.

• I have asked him to push for the signing of the Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, something that our Senate has not been able to say yes to up till now (and something that Obama is willing to sign), which has resulted in other Nuclear nations (like India and Pakistan) to also walk away from the treaty).


• I am sending a letter tomorrow that is asking McCain to be an active voice in decreasing our military presence in Afghanistan, opposing the President's surge policy. Our military presence is only destabilizing the country further, when we could be using those resources, rather, in life-giving ways towards the Afghani people.


• I am also wanting to write on the issues of Debt Relief to developing countries which we have loaned to; they should be freed to invest that money in their own people (which is badly needed) instead of paying for our high interest rates. This would be a small act of restitution towards these countries that have been so ravaged by our colonial tactics for so long, and the best kind of aid is self-empowerment towards these countries.


• I would like to advocate that we increase our trade restrictions on exports going to foreign countries. By shipping out our cheap exports (via subsidies and second-hand "charitable" giveaways), the local artisans and tradespeople are unable to compete, which therefore eradicates whole sectors of their industry.

Another way to resist that I am interested in is by avoiding the military tax. To do this, I could live below the poverty line, which would mean that I would not have to send any money to the Federal government at all.

Together, we must actively resist the systems of violence which we would otherwise be complicit in, and be willing to sacrifice the comfortable lifestyles which have been hitherto sustained by these violent acts...

Judah: The Good Life

As I sit alone in my room studying for a Hebrew exam, I pause and sip tea while listening to Beethoven's Seventh. This is the picture that would come to mind whenever I think about what would be my ideal future (minus the Hebrew exam and plus a good piece of literature and a crackling fire).

We all have pictures, I think, of what the ideal setting for us to spend time would be. But as I start to critically reflect on this picture of mine, I cannot help but notice a few things. First, I am in isolation; yes, I am in the comfort and protection of a warm and dimly lit room, but my ideal picture of time well-spent - of the Good Life - is not a picture of me interacting with others, of me being in interdependent relationships or communing with others in presence and hospitality.

Secondly, In this picture I am merely a passive consumer. I am consuming my imported tea and my Western music and literature. There is no creative energy being spent. Furthermore, this happy picture is entirely dependent on the commodities of global imperialism, which allows the organizations and corporations who manufacture and market these commodities to have exorbitant power over me. My picture of my life has become completely dominated and controlled by the global cultural machine.

Therefore, in this blissful picture I have cut myself off from the real flesh-and-bone people which surround me and have attached myself and share communion with a detached and violent global power system.

I am not suggesting that we eliminate all outside influence from our lives, burning all our Western music and books; it is true that our language - and therefore our picture of the Good Life - comes from outside of ourselves, and no picture of the Good Life can be completely devoid of outside influences.

What I am suggesting is that we move away from the alienating and passive-dominated pictures of what our life is to look like and move towards a picture of the good life that is much more holistic - in that it fully includes the communities we find ourselves in. And if we are to adapt a picture of the Good Life, let it be one that comes from the loving community, and not from the cultural machines which care only for their own interests and self-preservation.

Judah: On Language and Community

I was passing someone in the stairwell in Centennial Hall (our classroom building) and said "excuse me;" or perhaps I said "hello." It was shortly after that moment that I began to reflect on what it means to speak things to one another, and think that it is good to think of our spoken words as Gift to one another.

The linguistic dynamics of the globe seem to be in a dismal state. Language has been used to dominate and marginalize people groups since the beginning. It has been a tool of imperialism and colonialism within the hands of Alexander (Greek), ancient Rome (Latin), Spain in South America (Spanish), the British Empire and the U.S. (English). Thousands of local dialects have been wiped out.

A culture is so closely bound up with its language; it is the capacity of one's words that determines the breadth and depth of one's thought; if one does not have a word for something, it is hard to think about it. And even though the imperial languages have afforded us the opportunity of communicating with a vast variety of people groups quite easily, this convenience does not condone the linguistic and cultural violence that brought us to this point, nor does it justify the violence a society commits to maintain its imperial tongue.

Can a passing "hello" in the hallway be seen as a form of linguistic violence? Is all language violent? Certainly, we cannot help to use only a certain set of words... to the marginalization of other words; it is this distinction of meaningful sound from meaningless sound that makes language possible. The realities of locality and geographic proximity make it inevitable that certain people groups - with their unique experiences - will begin to develop new and divergent systems of meaning around those experiences. To the extent that we marginalize that people group's language, we also devalue their life experiences.

Wherever there is human interaction, there is going to be friction, and even violence. The only way to completely avoid violence would be to live in total isolation. But to live outside the context of community is to do violence to our very nature (indeed, some would wonder whether we cease to be human without community and language); we all desire a certain union with those around us.

Therefore, we must enter the messy business of language, for it is only through language that we can communicate - and therefore be in community - with others. Violence will be done, but we can work towards wholesome relationships.

I would propose that the primary way of overcoming linguistic violence is to offer our voice as Gift, and likewise to receive other's voices as Gift. This is very different from how we can offer our voice; it is often used, not as Gift, but as an attempt to dominate and subject the other person; it is used to take. This language of Gift will not only affect our intentions, but must have concrete implications on our daily interactions. It is when we use our voices as Gift and receive other voices as such that we can stop alienating the Other and offer ourselves as welcoming presence, even when this puts us in vulnerable and precarious situations.

It is a gift to be able to communicate "hello" to someone in passing. It is a gift to be able to receive an "excuse me" from an Other. This wonderful gift of language leaves me in awe and joy to know that such communion is possible between me and someone who is completely not me. And yet they are not completely not me; they have within them that little part of me that gives the "hello" meaning. It is this sharing of oneself that makes community possible.

As we see others sharing of themselves with each other in systems of meaning that are peculiar to us, may we take joy in that and see how we can join that circle of meaning. As we see those outside of and isolated from our circles of meaning, may we offer this meaning we have created as Gift to them, while welcoming the patterns of meaning that have made that individual who she is. A nonviolent linguistic ethic will always strive for this reciprocity and mutual attempt to understand.