January at Calvin College in Grand Rapids,
Michigan is blustery, grey, and more often than not, freezing. However, the
weather does not deter the large crowds that gather for the January Series,
Calvin’s annual conference of speakers who share their knowledge of and
research on a wide variety of topics, including race, justice, autism, creativity,
journalism, technological security, poverty, and God’s call for privileged
people.
On January 22nd, Kurt Ver Beek,
a Calvin alumni who has spent over twenty five years living in Honduras with
his wife, Jo Ann, spoke about the justice work in which they have invested.
With a Ph.D. in development sociology, Kurt has always been determined to
better the lives of the poor. However, when he and Jo Ann attempted to enrich
their communities through development, they were confronted with the vicious
violence that tore families apart and the pervasive corruption that threatened
the wellbeing of their neighborhood. Kurt and Jo Ann became convinced that
Honduras’ systems had to be altered for its citizens to live safe lives.
Comprehending the difference between
charity, development, and justice is central to Kurt’s thesis about the
importance of security. Charity is the short-term alleviation of hunger or
cold, and is necessary for immediate aid after disaster has struck.
Development, however, entails long-term betterment and investment in a system.
Many development organizations provide education, skills, and business loans
for those in poverty. Kurt and Jo Ann were aware of the benefits of development
over charity, but as they watched hopelessly as friends were gunned down by
drug lords and corrupt policemen, they realized that beyond development,
justice must be secured for Hondurans. Justice is the ultimate righting of systems.
It is the all-encompassing healing of wrongs, and overcomes the fear brought
about by violence.
Kurt and Jo Ann began to enact
justice by pursuing security and founding the Association for a More Just
Society (AJS) in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. AJS hired Honduran investigators
who took on the dangerous task of looking into homicides and uncovering the
antics of corrupt policemen. Slowly, homicide rates dropped as Kurt and Jo
Ann’s neighbors began putting their trust in AJS and testifying as witnesses in
court. Despite the risk to their own lives and a few tragic causalities to
Hondurans within AJS, sections of Tegucigalpa became safer. One of these
sections includes Nueva Suyapa, one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in
Tegucigalpa and Kurt and Jo Ann’s home.
Along with seven other Calvin
students, I studied in Honduras from January to May 2015. Our host families
lived in a beautiful mountain town called Santa Lucia that overlooked Tegucigalpa,
which sprawled below. Perched in our lofty mountain home, we would venture into
Tegus for school, after a forty-five minute ride on an old, rusty school bus
that chugged its way up and down the steep slopes. During some of these visits,
we would attend a class taught by Kurt and Jo Ann, entitled “Poverty and
Development (or more accurately, Justice).” Kurt and Jo Ann used their
extensive knowledge of Honduras and its people to describe the economic and
political state of the country. We learned about the messy stuff, the hidden
stuff, the mundane, and the dirty. We studied food distribution, immigration,
the impact of policy, orphanages, maquilas (loosely translated as “sweatshops”),
waste management (sewage, basically), and the influence the States wields in
Honduras.
Kurt and Jo Ann’s class was one of
the highlights of the semester not only because of the content, but mostly due
to the sense of justice that roused our spirits every time we had class. Kurt and Jo Ann’s lectures exuded genuine compassion
for their fellow Hondurans. Not only did we learn about the many obstacles
Honduras faces; we were also set afire with passion for justice work in the
United States. We focused on the inequitable American education system that
supports some in success while allowing other students to drop through the
cracks. One of the classes permanently etched in my mind was when we wrote down
all of the social issues we cared about, and formulated steps to address them.
As I fervently wrote mine down, I realized the scope of my social concern was
too broad, and that I’d have to simplify so that I didn’t get overwhelmed and
lose all hope. The classes inspired and united us as young students, still inexperienced
but nonetheless determined join the pursuit of justice.
My seven Calvin peers and I were
drawn together over discussions about social justice. We shared our individual
passions, delighted when they coincided and willing to learn from each other
when they didn’t. Of course, simply discussing issues was not always enough;
once, when we were in Nicaragua, I broke down and bawled, in front of several
perplexed onlookers, over the weight of injustice and my inability to solve it.
My Calvin friends were gracious, comforting me and listening to my weepy
ranting. Justice isn’t always about doing; it often involves dwelling in pain
over the situation, and oftentimes, only the support of your friends allows you
to grasp at hope.
Over a year has passed since my
group and I arrived in Honduras. When we heard that Kurt was coming to Grand
Rapids, we made plans to attend his talk together. We joined a mass of Kurt and
Jo Ann’s students, who wore AJS tee-shirts and cheered loudly when he walked on
stage, one of my friends waving a gigantic Honduran flag. The small, fiery
community of Calvin students who had spent time with Kurt and Jo Ann in
Honduras represents the young people who have been set aflame with passion for
justice. We are united by a force that encompasses the pain, hope, indignation,
guilt, joy, weariness, and communal spirit of justice work. Although we cannot
save the world, we have been seized by a thirst for justice, like Kurt and Jo
Ann, and the hope that we can start to make a dent in the wrongs that plague
our societies.
-Anna Lindner
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