Pope Francis has decided to donate a crucifix given to him by Cuba’s president, Raul Castro, to a parish at the forefront of the European refugee crisis.
Francis will give the crucifix to parishioners on Italy’s southernmost island of Lampedusa, where thousands of refugees and migrants have arrived in recent months.
Standing more than 9 feet tall, the crucifix is made of wooden oars, as a symbol of migration. Crafted by the Cuban artist Kcho, it was given to Francis by Castro during the pontiff’s official visit to Cuba in September.
Christians — particularly those of the more conservative variety — often oppose accommodations for transgender persons. But these believers are having a very important conversation in the wrong direction. When trying to understand transgender issues, Christians should start with the personal, not political. When Christians begin by committing to political goals rather than educating themselves on the complicated, sensitive nuances of this matter, they often come off looking privileged, mean, or just flat-out clueless.
But transgender issues are bigger than so-called bathroom bills and similar legislation. Society is beginning to see these issues as personal matters that affect the real lives of real people with real hurts.
A few Christians out there are, thankfully, trying to think deeply about transgender people. Mark Yarhouse is a professor at Regent University School of Psychology and Counseling and author of Understanding Gender Dysphoria: Navigating Transgender Issues in a Changing Culture. Megan DeFranza is a visiting researcher at Boston University’s School of Theology and author of Sex Difference in Christian Theology: Male, Female, and Intersex in the Image of God. Here we discuss the complexity of transgender issues often overlooked by Christians.
Nearly a quarter-century after its last major ruling on abortion created a fragile balance between women’s rights and government restrictions, the Supreme Court appears ready for a rematch.
And like the last time, the debate would unfold in the midst of a presidential election.
The first act could play out as early as Nov. 13, when the justices may decide whether to hear a challenge to tough new limits placed on abortion clinics and doctors in Texas. The restrictions — forcing doctors to have admitting privileges at nearby hospitals and requiring clinics to measure up to outpatient surgery centers — threaten to leave the state with just 10 clinics clustered in four population centers and along the Mexican border.
Our initial vision included a basic goal of raising awareness and seeking to coordinate efforts for a unified response that would comprehensively address this form of modern-day slavery through prevention, awareness, action, and aftercare. But as our awareness efforts soon led many trafficking survivors to us, statistics and stories were replaced with personal, local faces that would need our help and in turn, would change our lives.
Interacting with trafficking survivors is a cross-cultural experience. Many of their stories are riddled with addiction, abuse, neglect, out-of-home placement, loss, rejection, and suffering. (And this does not even begin to address the culture of the commercial sex industry.) The language of “the life,” the rules of “the game”, and the many nuances of a relationship with a trafficker — whether known as daddy, boyfriend, boss, abuser, or lover — are only a few of the cultural differences for a woman coming out of the commercial sex industry.
As I sit with a woman who has secrets, stories, and experiences that are much different than my own, what can I offer? The world views her as dirty and as choosing this lifestyle. Others view her as to be pitied and a cause to be rescued. What does she need? What do we need to understand about women who have a history of prostitution or sex trafficking?
Recently I asked another woman this question. Separated from her trafficker for only two months, she had a fresh understanding.
Driving up the road in the area of Rachel's Tomb, the traditional burial place of the wife of Jacob, one comes to a crossroad. In the middle of this intersection is a giant guard tower, one of many along Israel's 400-mile “separation wall,” part of which encloses Bethlehem. Painted on the tower is a sign for the neighboring Caritas Baby Hospital — a hosptial described by Pope Benedict XVI on his 2009 visit as “one of the smaller bridges built for peace."
It is possible at this crossroads to turn either left or right. Either way, one will run into Jesus.
If we turn to the left and travel 100 yards, we encounter the compassionate face of Jesus. Here, Caritas Baby Hospital provides medical assistance to more than 38,000 suffering and disadvantaged children a year. The hospital accepts every child, irrespective of religion, nationality, or social background. The dignity of the human being is at the center of all their efforts.
Hospitals, clinics, schools, and institutions like these are vital to the mission of the church. Yet especially here in the Holy Land, we are also called to a deeper understanding and compassion.
For that we need only return to the intersection and turn right.
One hundred yards to the right of the crossroad, we encounter a different face of Jesus — the suffering face of Christ. Here, he calls us not just to provide, but to understand and to walk along with him. He asks us to consider, "Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?" For many, it is a harder road and so one less taken. Down this road is the home of a Christian Palestinian family.
1. How Do You Forgive a Murder?
TIME’s tremendous cover story returns to Charleston, S.C., to cover a deeper kind of forgiveness — the working out of life after losing loved ones.
2. 60 Minutes Overtime: Inside the Recording of ‘Hamilton’
Go backstage and into the recording studio with the cast of the hit Broadway show about the Founding Fathers, told through rap and hip-hop. “This is the first time I’ve felt particularly American — the last 8 months that I’ve been working on this,” says Daveed Diggs, who plays Thomas Jefferson.
3. ¡Justicia!
Sojourners' December cover story features Latina and Latino leaders in the church. Read here in Spanish and English — a first for the magazine.
Ultimately, we learn to overlook the light already present in these places. We come to think that our responsibility is to bring light when instead we should bear witness to a flame that already exists. In reality, where God is, there is light. If this whole created earth belongs to the Lord, there is no place his light doesn’t send forth a warm glow.
I used to volunteer with an organization called PEER Servants. PEER is an acronym for Partnering for Economic Empowerment and Renewal. PEER Servants partners with indigenous Christian microfinance institutions that want to help transform their communities and empower others to do the same. During my time as a volunteer, I learned about a woman in South Africa who used the profits from her business to begin a nursery school for her community. I read about a man in Uganda who wanted to expand his business so he could provide more jobs for his neighbors. These stories spread hope to my North Carolina home, a hope as warm as a rising sun.
In the first chapter of the biblical book of John, Nathanael says to Phillip, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” to which Phillip answers, “Come and see.”
Based on the typical narrative the West gives the African countries, the question might become, “Can anything good come out of the African continent?” And I would answer, “Come and see.”
Taking our cue from these leaders whose understanding of justice is rooted in a multilingual, multicultural context, we published the cover story in both English and Spanish — a first for Sojourners. For English-only speakers, we hope this serves as a reminder that our own perspective is limited. For those who regularly navigate multiple languages and cultures, especially Latino and Latina Christians, we hope you’ll continue to heed the challenge of Bishop Minerva Carcaño: “It is our responsibility to be a voice for justice and to be able to sit at the table with others.”
Right now, a contentious debate over religious freedom is tearing at the social fabric of a nation, and partisans seeking to take advantage of the uproar are fueling the fires of mistrust and division.
But I’m not talking about the U.S. and arguments over contraceptive mandates and same-sex marriage. (And I’m certainly not talking about red coffee cups!) This struggle for religious freedom is taking place in Bangladesh, and the “debate” is being waged not with words and laws, but with machetes and terror.
In the past eight months, five people have been hacked to death by Islamic extremists associated with terror groups such as Ansar Bangla and al-Qaida. Each victim was targeted for writing or publishing works that advocate for secular democracy and criticize religion and fundamentalism. Many other writers have been injured in these attacks.
We have witnessed a remarkable series of events on the Columbia, Mo., campus of the University of Missouri this week. The university president and the chancellor of the Columbia campus resigned Nov. 9 in response to protests claiming that university leadership had failed to appropriately address and respond to a toxic racial climate on campus.
The recent racist incidents, which many students and faculty felt the administration had failed to confront, reveal a stunning lack of empathy for students of color at the university. They include: racial slurs hurled at a black student body president and a black student organization, and a swastika painted in human feces on the wall of a residence hall.
But these specific incidents merely allowed a long-simmering stew of disrespect, verbal attacks, and marginalization of students of color to come boiling to the surface.
The Columbia campus of the University of Missouri is only a two-hour drive from Ferguson, Mo. When Michael Brown was shot in August 2014, protesters took to the streets of Ferguson every night, and student activists from Mizzou were among them. They saw what standing up to entrenched institutional racism looked like, and they saw that victories could be won with non-violent protest.