I am now sifting through notes and photos of my trip to Uganda. Somewhat delayed because I got pulled into working full-time as a consultant at (ahem, yes) the UN. More thoughts on that later. I find the topic of northern Uganda come up with varied frequency in my conversations at work - mainly because I work for a division of the UN Development Programme and part of the role of the organization is to promote development solutions for the world's poorest regions.
As I work and think through the development challenges facing places like northern Uganda, I realize just how out of touch organizations are and can be...not because of any fundamental 'badness' on the part of the organizations or people working in them; but because of where they are located. The physical location of such places makes it nearly impossible to affect direct influence or change on the lives of those living in the remotest regions of the world.
Yes, I admit, I feel a bit guilty writing about development policies from my cushy office in midtown manhattan - continents away from the people and the places I am researching and writing about.
Which brings me to the title of this blog.
I have been thinking a lot about the whole meaning of INCARNATION, these days - Incarnation as Jesus preached and practiced it. As with most everything Jesus did and said, there is a tremendous depth of wisdom we can glean from the idea that Jesus would come to us as a human, but holy and perfect as God. The whole notion of this one act, provides us with THE model for social justice, love, mercy...and even, development. God didn't sit in an office somewhere and tell others what to do; instead he came in the form of a man. Jesus lived, breathed, ate and walked among the people he served. And those who followed him have done the same. I think of Mother Theresa, and many, who today live and work to serve those who need God's love and compassion through a loving touch, through their very presence, extending His light, His joy, grace and mercy to those who needed it most.
And these were people who were fully ALIVE. They were alive to God's presence and His love...in contrast, I feel like being in an office deadens the heart and spirit. (The famous sociologist, Max Weber, called such organizations and the bureaucracies they became, an "iron cage." And now I think I know why.)
I was never happier, more deeply moved, fulfilled and enlivened on my trip, than when I was talking to people who lived in the IDP camps in the remotest parts of northern Uganda.
While a weak comparison, I feel hints of it now when I give money to the homeless guys at the corner who daily hold out a cup for change. Having started working at an office all day, I felt like my heart was changing and that I was becoming cold to the needs of those around me. Very removed, very selfish. I was not moved by the poor I was seeing every day on the streets of New York City. I prayed to God to give me a wise and generous heart. I recalled very vividly reading a story in the bible, a parable Jesus told, about the rich man named Lazarus (different from the one who was raised from the dead), who never paid attention or gave anything to the poor homeless man outside his gate while he was alive. When he and the poor man both died, the poor man went to heaven and the rich man was burning in hell, suffering enormous pain and torture...Lazarus begged God to tell his brothers to have compassion on the poor, so that they would avoid his dreadful fate, but the Lord told Him they already knew all they needed to know. That story really gets at me; because I think that rich man is everywhere here in New York City. That rich guy could be me.
When I finally decided I would give money to whoever asked on the streets, where it was feasible, I remember the feeling in my heart each time I extended my hand and dropped in a dollar bill or more (I felt in prayer that giving a few coins is not really the same thing; I can share more on this later). It was a feeling of being torn in my heart - a kind of pain - but a pain that allowed my heart to open, and soften and feel a deep love and compassion for the person I was giving the money to. Strangely, the floodgates would open inside as I realized that my giving was opening a channel of love, grace and mercy from God into my own heart. Each time I did this, on the several days this past week when I did give, I would turn away with my heart feeling like it had loved someone in a deeper way than I had previously thought capable. Inevitably, I would feel tears come as I realized that this was the kind of love God has for the person sitting on that stoop, asking for money. This is the kind of love God has for each of us...
Incarnation.
It's not just a way of life; it was Jesus's way of life. The more I reflect on it, the more I am learning what it really means to love and what the incarnation says about God's love - what it looks and feels like, what it calls us to do. It helps me to understand the kind of compassion and mercy God has for the poor; and it is in the small things, not the big ones (from the world's eyes, e.g., sitting in my office and writing policy papers) that we find the real meaning of love, compassion and justice - the incarnational way.
