Chords of Dissonance or Harmony?

Through correspondence, publications, clippings that are sent to our office, we have a veritable treasure of reflections, personal stories, studies and articles. These are treasures to be shared and in this issue of the Stauros Notebook we will share three of these. Each has a different message and yet there is an inter-connectedness, a relationship. The beautiful poem by Martha O. Adams complements the poignant article by Dr. Brett Webb-Mitchell. The piercing question of Sr. Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB, calls us to "gather the tears of a neighborhood." Each of these selections strikes at a different chord in our hearts, and yet these three chords are not dissonant but, rather, are harmonious. The poetry of Martha, the pragmatism of Patty, the persistency of Joel, the perceptions of Mary Lou, all converge into a message of hope, of love, of justice, of faith. Stauros is grateful to the authors for permission to use this material.

A SINGLE LIGHT

by Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB Director, Alliance for International Monasticism

"O, that my monk's robe were wide enough to embrace the sufferings of the world," Raccoon wrote.

What an ideal job description for the Director of the Alliance for International Monasticism.

But can it be done? How can I tell stories of weeping people I have never met, of languages not understood? How can I spread news of suffering countries never visited, of cultures I cannot comprehend?

Despite fax machines and computers and CompuService I often feel disconnected from the tears in Angola, Haiti, Tibet, Rwanda.

Then I look out my window. The national office of AIM is located in inner-city Erie. And here there is plenty of suffering to embrace.

Next door to the AIM office is Saint Mary's School, an elementary school that is a showcase of Catholic education. Really, if you want to do a story on quality inner-city Catholic schools, send "60 Minutes" here. With a student body that is over 50% minority and is home to many children with emotional and learning disabilities, the school blended races and cultures into a model community.

A few weeks ago Saint Mary's School announced it was closing in June. The parish, like inner-city ones everywhere, is now made up of mostly single mothers and the elderly on fixed incomes. The parish cannot afford to keep a school. The diocese says it has no money to help the school. I look at a playground filled with laughing children and see the races of poor children everywhere who are denied an education that will enable them to escape the prison of poverty. And I feel more sharply the suffering of the world.

The other day I looked out the window and saw a young girl digging in the backyard dumpster. I walked over and asked her what she was looking for. "Books," she said. "I go to all the dumpsters in the neighborhood and look for books." We pack up cartons and bags of books here at AIM to send to the Third World. Somehow the hand of the little girl reaching into the dumpster for used school texts be- comes an extension of the hands reaching across the ocean to receive boxes of AIM books. And I am connected, a bit more, to the suffering of the world.

Right around the corner is Emmaus, the food pantry and soup kitchen run by sisters from our community. It's 20 years old this year and all it has to show for its efforts are growing lines of hungry people. And we're not talking about alcoholics and drifters needing food. According to a landmark study recently released by Second Harvest--a network of 185 food-banks around the country--the hungry in our country are women and children. One in 10 Americans, 26 million people, sought emergency food in 1993. Serving macaroni and cheese to the hungry in Zaire--what's the difference? Certainly the suffering is the same.

Lack of quality education for the poor, no resources from which to learn, longer and longer lines of hungry people and the gap between the well-to-do and the destitute growing every day. No doubt about it, the inner-cities of most US cities are Third World mirrors.

How can I embrace the suffering of the world? This way: I look out my window and try to gather the tears of a neighborhood into the folds of an imaginary, but very, very wide monk's robe.
 

PROPHETIC UTTERANCES

by Brett Webb-Mitchell, President, Religion Division American Association on Mental Retardation

Who is a prophet? The Presbyterian novelist Frederick Buechner wrote that no prophet ever asked for the job, but was chosen by God. God puts a finger on someone, and the rest is history (Wishful Thinking, Harper and Row, 1973). That was surely the case for prophets like Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the "minor prophets" like Amos, Joel, and Hosea.

While some may think that prophets are antique relics only to be found in the Hebrew Bible, others who call themselves members of churches and synagogues know better. We who call ourselves "friends of" people with disabilities understand that now and then we are in the presence of people whom God has given the gift of prophecy. For example, consider Patty, a mother of six children that included her daughter, Annie, who has autism. For years, Patty would wander the programs necessary for Annie's education. She went from clinic to clinic seeking educational and therapeutic programming for her daughter's well-being. She was making little headway, either with the institutions or the clinics, until one day she was listening to a panel of "experts" talking about their need for more money for "their" professional programs. From them, she learned that the only way to get programs for her daughter was not by being passive, but to become a noisy, clanging cymbal for the sake of her daughter. With her Mennonite church supporting her family in prayer and respite support, Patty was able to find the money and programs. She became a model advocate for her daughter, and helped to guide other families along the path of change (from God Plays Piano Too: The Spiritual Lives of Disabled Children, Crossroad, 1993).

Another prophetic voice belongs to Joel. Joel was fifteen years old when I first met him at a conference for families sponsored by a large Christian denomination. Because Joel was mentally retarded, he was placed into the high school program with a special "buddy," a young volunteer who was not men- tally retarded. The following year, Joel and his family did not come to the same conference. I received a letter from Joel, in which he outlined why he didn't come back: "(1) Took too much of my time; (2) they did not have a golf course; (3) I get bored; (4) I didn't like the dance--too many people; (5) I didn't like being handicapped...and being called handicapped. I didn't like people telling me I needed a buddy. I liked (my bud- dy)...he was fun to be with, but I don't like being called handicapped. To make it different next year, talk about what people can do, not what they can't do. Treat me like a friend, not like a person who can't do for themselves. Tell me what's fun to do with me. Have fun with me. Forget the handicap- ping condition. Look at me as a friend. Joel".

Like the Hebrew prophets, Patty and Joel did not choose this life. She is not busy questioning God about why a child with autism is born to her, and Joel does not question his existence all the day long, for there are no easy answers to either of their situations. In their hearts, both Patty and Joel know that God loves them, and they gladly accept the opportunities that are spread before them, with thanks to God all the while.