News from the Pews

This past Sunday I had the opportunity to venture to Toronto with two colleagues and sisters in Christ to see Kent Monkman’s exhibit Shame and Prejudice: A Story of Resilience. Monkman is a Canadian artist of Cree ancestry who uses art to take us on a profound and provocative “journey through Canada’s history beginning a hundred and fifty years before confederation” (quoted from exhibit’s brochure).  

Although I know that this world is riddled with brokenness and injustice, I sometimes feel removed and disengaged. I am a stay-at-home mom to 3 school-age children, living on a dairy farm in rural Saskatchewan. Talk about isolated! In my quaint little community, it is easier to focus on the needs of my family and myself, rather than open my eyes and heart to social justice issues of the world. It would be oh-so-simple to make some cookies for Bible study, help my kids with their reading books, fry some ground beef for supper, and call it a day!

Every few days, I take a small metal pail full of vegetable scraps and fruit peels to a black compost bin in my backyard. Thermometers in Edmonton dip well below zero Celsius in January, so it requires some resolve to take grab the bin’s soon-to-be-freezing metal handle and take food scraps to the compost bin rather than dumping them in my waste basket. When the temperatures get so cold that my beard freezes, I find myself asking: Does it really matter how I throw this stuff away?

I had never taken the time to reflect and ask myself, “I wonder how living in North America feels from the Indigenous perspective.” I was familiar with the history and many of the injustices. This is a bit embarrassing to admit, given that I’ve worked in full-time ministry in multi-ethnic contexts for nearly a decade and even teach and facilitate regularly on issues of race, ethnicity, identity, and culture. But I had never truly considered the history of North America from the perspective of Indigenous peoples and genuinely tried to empathize.

We’ve made it through an election cycle, one that has stoked old divisions and fears, and caused uncertainty for Americans and Canadians alike. As we move forward, it is worth remembering that much of the real work of citizenship—in whatever country you call home, and (more importantly) in God’s here-and-coming kingdom—begins at our tables.

We’re trying something new on Do Justice. We’ve been around for over 3 years now, and until now, story and series ideas have usually come from our teams at the Christian Reformed Centre for Public Dialogue and the Office of Social Justice.

1. Tell us a little about your family's immigration story.

The journey of my life began in 1985 when I left the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I woke up one morning and my parents said: we found a husband for you and you are going to get married. I was very young. Unwillingly, we moved to Burundi where my husband served at the embassy. When I left the Congo there was great political unrest and injustices occurring. People were being shot and killed.

So much of the conversation about immigration during this election season has not been based on facts or on the biblical value of philoxenia (love of the stranger, see Romans 12:13 or Hebrews 13:2). There has been much talk about immigrants—and not enough listening to immigrants themselves. The Blessing Not Burden campaign is part of changing that. 

So much of the conversation about immigration during this election season has not been based on facts or on the biblical value of philoxenia (love of the stranger, see Romans 12:13 or Hebrews 13:2). There has been much talk about immigrants—and not enough listening to immigrants themselves. The Blessing Not Burden campaign is part of changing that. 

I love to eat food, and the food I eat is intimately connected to the lives, the environments, and the well-being of people all around the world.