Pink Flu and Politics

Last week was not a good health week for members of KPUMC. Some of those who traveled to New York with Credo Choir came back with the “pink flu” (because only women got it); Dwight Lind, Bill Millsap, and Linda Jackson all found themselves in the hospital at some point; Bob Smith had a surgical procedure.

But this week is not a good health week for the country. The health care bill winding its way through the Senate has just been exposed as potentially leaving 22 million more people uninsured in the future, not to mention the enormous cuts to Medicaid.

All this uncertainty about the health of our friends and ourselves causes a great deal of anxiety. Each one of us has been impacted by the high cost of health care, and even if we have decent insurance, we can’t help but worry about those who don’t.

I don’t have a solution to the nation’s health care woes. I have spent a lot of money on medical bills in my lifetime, plus I have lots of anecdotal experience in the strengths and weaknesses of our health care system. But I can’t tell you how it can be fixed.

However, as a pastor, I believe I can put a theological lens on the problem, and in that spirit, I offer the following thoughts on the health care crisis:

First, I give you the official United Methodist Church position on healthcare, which can be found here in its entirety. In summary, we believe that “health care is a basic human right.”

I support this sentiment, and would link this idea to our own confession that “God’s will for us all is shalom.” Shalom connotes wholeness and health; people who are sick are not experiencing God’s shalom. Thus, if we truly believe that the will of God is that all humanity be healthy, then we must support the idea that everyone should have access to health care.

I admit that this is a fairly simple and idealistic hope. The problem quickly becomes how best to realize this dream. To put it in the starkest possible terms, who pays for it?

I recognize that there is no unanimity over the best way to do this. That’s what is polarizing the country. What is most disturbing to me over the last few weeks is the way that the current debate about health care has been framed by certain players in government. Increasingly, the argument has been advanced that those who are sick bear a certain amount of blame for their sickness. The words “personal responsibility” are starting to float around the whole issue, as if the reason people are not healthy is solely because of their lifestyle choices. That is the clear implication of a recent tweet by the Vice-President: “Before summer’s out, we'll repeal/replace Obamacare w/ system based on personal responsibility, free-market competition & state-based reform.”

I do not doubt that lots of us don’t always make the best decisions about our health; we eat too many burgers and fries, don’t exercise enough, drink and smoke too much. But it’s scandalous to overgeneralize about who or what is to blame.

And why should the amount of health care one receives be tied to matters of innocence and guilt? Why does someone have to “deserve” health care before they receive it? Who would be the judge?

According to the Social Principles of the United Methodist Church, there are different levels of responsibility in health matters, but no casting of blame: “Providing the care needed to maintain health, prevent disease, and restore health after injury or illness is a responsibility each person owes others and government owes to all, a responsibility government ignores at its peril.”

Frankly, I am also worried about the intrusion of free-market competition into health care matters. Competition may be a positive force in commerce, driving prices down and ensuring quality and choice, but I am not certain that it has the same effect in an industry that is vital to human prosperity. The problem with a competition-model is that there are winners and losers, but human society cannot afford to have “losers” in health care. Every health care provider must adhere to standards and regulations which ensures that no harm is done. I would argue that this is best done through the machinations of democratic, participatory government.

I am also convinced that government ought to take the lead in creating the system that provides care to all citizens, particularly the most vulnerable. The importance of caring for the widow, orphan, and stranger is a principle that permeates the entire Old Testament. Throughout the Torah/Law, God is concerned that the poor are not left out or forgotten. Much of God’s wrath toward Israel comes because the vulnerable are exploited and oppressed by the rich.

So the number one question that ought to be asked of any issue that our government decides is, “How will the most vulnerable among us fare?”

If the Congressional Budget Office is correct, then the poor will not fare well under the Senate’s health care bill. According to The Atlantic, the CBO found that “a disproportionate number of the 22 million people who will lose health-insurance coverage under the BCRA will be people with low incomes. Their losses will come even as $700 billion worth of tax breaks also contained in the BCRA largely benefit the top quintile of earners … In order to pay for that tax break, the BCRA cuts more than a trillion dollars from subsidies and Medicaid. Almost all of those cuts come from the people with the least.”

That is simply not acceptable. And it reminds this pastor of the time when a bunch of goats asked,“Lord, when did we see you sick and did not take care of you?”

Finally, I think of the time that Jesus was preaching in a house that was full of guests. Four guys showed up carrying a paralyzed man who presumably had no health insurance. They couldn’t get the patient into the house because there were so many people; instead, they went up on the roof, pulled the tiles away to create a hole, and then let the paralyzed man down into the middle of the room next to Jesus, who promptly healed him.

Notice that Jesus didn’t ask any questions about the man, how much money he had, or what had happened to him, nor did he assign any blame. He simply healed him.

What goes unmentioned is the important role that the four buddies played in the man’s healing. They are the unheralded heroes in the story, because they are the ones who took responsibility for the man’s health care. They carried him to Jesus; they shouldered the burden. In their strength and wholeness, they provided for the weakness of their neighbor.

In order for health care to work in our own time, the strong must care for the weak. This means that those who can shoulder a larger part of the burden must do so. Not to absolve the weak of their own responsibility, but in recognition of the fact that we will all be sick at some point in our lives. We are not always healthy; even the strongest and most fit will go through periods in which their health flags.

When we are strong, we help care for the weak. When we are weak, the strong care for us. It’s a mutual arrangement; it’s the way God meant for human society to work. We care, and we are cared for.

Please join me in praying for our lawmakers, that health care in America will come to be more fair, just, and affordable.

Put On Your Marching Shoes!

Church, it’s time to put your marching shoes on!

This Sunday, after we celebrate the triumphal entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem with waving palm branches, we’re going to celebrate unity, empowerment, and family in the streets of Dallas with waving American flags.

After worship, we’re going to make our way to Guadalupe Cathedral in downtown, where we will join the Dallas Mega-March 2017, which starts promptly at 2 pm. The march will end in a rally at Dallas City Hall, and will feature speakers including Martin Luther King III, Danny Glover, Jamie Foxx, and others

I would love to see a KPUMC presence at the march, because this event celebrates the values and principles which our church community holds dear. In general, the Mega-March is meant as a statement that the people of Dallas are united against hate, discrimination, and inequality.

According to event organizers, it is “time to speak up for the voices that often go unheard; time to beat hate with love; time to fight for the generations to come; time to show that our community is unified.”

Specifically, the march will resist three recent developments in the country: aggressive immigration enforcement efforts; the Muslim travel ban; and rising hate crimes. Each of these developments harms our communities and demands a response from faith communities.

Most of us don’t personally suffer the effects of these developments. None of us face deportation; none of us likely have had think about altering our travel plans because of executive orders; and few of us worry about hate crimes.

But just because we don’t suffer, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t march. As the body of Jesus Christ in the world, we need to be present in the streets on Sunday. We need to march in solidarity with those who face these present realities. We must rally around them as brothers and sisters of God’s world, seeking their shalom, and demanding justice. 

This is who we are, or at least, who we must become.

That has been the point of my Lent devotionals. A church which does not pursue justice on behalf of society’s most vulnerable people does not really worship the true God, no matter what it does or says on Sunday morning. People who fast and pray in the most pious ways but live dishonest and unjust lives do not really know God.

Let’s put the truth of what we celebrate on Sunday morning in worship, song, and prayer into practice on Sunday afternoon! Let’s march!

To Welcome Like the Lebanese

It’s not like I had a lifelong dream to visit Lebanon. To be honest, I’d never given it a thought. Beirut is just not one of those vacation spots that pops up on most people’s bucket list.

I didn’t plan our Lebanon trip because of a desire to vacation, however. Instead, my colleagues and I wanted to travel to the front line of the Syrian refugee crisis, and see what is going on.

And Lebanon is on the front line. In fact, it shares a long border with Syria, and for the last five years, has borne the brunt of much of the civil war’s fallout. It has received the second-most number of refugees from the conflict — over 1.5 million people.

That number sounds abstractly high by itself, but when you consider the fact that the country of Lebanon only had a population of 4 million before the war, then you can see how all-consuming the crisis has become for the Lebanese.

Everywhere we went, we heard how difficult the Syrian crisis has been on the hosting community. We found municipalities which are overwhelmed by water, electricity, and sewage needs. We discovered overcrowded schools and hospitals. And we heard ordinary citizens worry about the future.

Despite all that, the Lebanese are doing their best to serve the needs of their Syrian neighbors. We met a number of highly committed and dedicated Lebanese men and women who were spending large amounts of time to care for the refugees amongst them. We saw multiple NGOs (non-governmental organizations) at work in the country, providing family planning assistance, health care, education, vocational training, and more. 

Our team started calling these Lebanese folks we met, our “heroes.” They are doing their best to serve where they are needed. They are Christian — Maronite, Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant. They are Muslim — Sunni and Shiite. They are Druze, atheist, Buddhist, and agnostic.

I sense that what unites them is a shared sense of vulnerability. In other words, the Lebanese people are intimately acquainted with suffering. They know what it is like to be displaced.

The Lebanese have vivid memories of two major disasters — the civil war of 1975-1990, and the Israel bombing of 2006. Both events displaced large numbers of Lebanese people, destroyed infrastructure, and destabilized civil society.

But the people of Lebanon received generous help from other peoples, survived the conflict, drew together, and forged a path forward for a hopeful future. There are lots of challenges still, to be sure, but the point is that the Lebanese know what it is like to be in need. They know what it’s like to have to rely on aid, on the kindness of others.

So when the Syrian people are in need, the Lebanese have resolved to receive them with open arms. They share, not only a common border, but a common future.

The same kind of logic is at work in the Torah. Time and time again, God’s law demands that the Israelites care for the alien and stranger. This is not an abstract rule; it is rooted in empathy. “You shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" (Lev. 19:34).

The Israelites are to welcome the stranger in need because they have known what it is like to be a stranger in need.

And now let’s turn the spotlight on our own nation. Shouldn’t this country of immigrants, this motley collection of persecuted and battered refugees, which has found refuge in these amber waves of grain and purple mountains’ majesty, also open its doors to those who are now persecuted and battered? We share a common story of suffering and hope, a narrative of displacement and rebirth.

Why are we afraid of those who should remind us of ourselves? Why is the Statue of Liberty so dark these days?