a message from the reverend jim wallis to the president:
We all filed into a little Sunday school classroom at First
Baptist, Austin. I had actually preached there before, and the
pastor told me how puzzled he was that his "progressive" church
was chosen for this meeting. You were reaching out. About 25 of
us were sitting together chatting, not knowing what to expect,
when you simply walked in without any great introduction. You
sat down and told us you just wanted to listen to our concerns
and ideas of how to really deal with poverty in America.
And you did listen, more than presidents often do. You asked
us questions. One was, "How do I speak to the soul of America?"
I remember answering that one by saying to focus on the
children. Their plight is our shame and their promise is our
future. Reach them and you reach our soul. You nodded in
agreement. The conversation was rich and deep for an hour and a
half.
Then when we officially broke, you moved around the room and
talked with us one-on-one or in small groups for another hour. I
could see your staff was anxious to whisk you away (you were in
the middle of making cabinet appointments that week and there
were key departments yet to fill). Yet you lingered and kept
asking questions. I remember you asking me, Jim, I don't
understand poor people. I've never lived with poor people or
been around poor people much. I don't understand what they think
and feel about a lot of things. I'm just a white Republican guy
who doesn't get it. How do I get it? I still recall the intense
and sincere look on your face as you looked me right in the eyes
and asked your heartfelt question. It was a moment of humility
and candor that, frankly, we don't often see with presidents.
I responded by saying that you had to listen to poor people
themselves and pay attention to those who do live and work with
the poor. It was a simple answer, but again you were nodding
your head. I told my wife, Joy, also a clergyperson, about our
conversation. Weeks later, we listened to your first
inaugural address. When you said,
"America, at its best, is compassionate. In the
quiet of American conscience, we know that deep, persistent
poverty is unworthy of our nation's promise. And whatever our
views of its cause, we can agree that children at risk are not
at fault ... many in our country do not know the pain of
poverty, but we can listen to those who do,"
my wife
poked me in the ribs and smiled. In fact, you talked more about
poverty than any president had for a long time in his inaugural
address—and I said so in a newspaper column afterward
(much to the chagrin of Democratic friends). They also
didn't like the fact that I started going to other meetings at
the White House with you or your staff about how to best do a
"faith-based initiative," or that some of my personal friends
were appointed to lead and staff your new Office of Faith-based
and Community Initiatives at the White House. We brought many
delegations of religious leaders, again from across the
political spectrum, to meet with representatives of that office.
Some of us hoped that something new might be in the air.
But that was a long time ago. We don't hear much about that
office or initiative anymore. Most of my friends have long left.
I don't hear about meetings now. And nobody speaks anymore about
this new concept you named "compassionate conservatism." And
now, you promise to veto a strongly bipartisan measure to expand
health insurance for low-income children. Most of your expressed
objections to the bill have been vigorously refuted by
Republican senators who helped craft the bill and support it
passionately. They vow to try and override your veto. During
your first campaign, you chided conservative House Republicans
for tax and spending cuts accomplished on the backs of the poor.
Now Congressional Republicans are chiding you.
What happened to you, Mr. President? The money needed for
expanding health care to poor children in America is far less
than the money that has been lost and wasted on corruption in
Iraq. How have your priorities stayed so far from those
children, whom you once agreed were so central to the soul of
the nation? What do they need to do to get your attention again?
You will be literally barraged by the religious community across
the political spectrum this week, imploring you not to veto
children's health care. I would just ask you to take your mind
back to a little meeting in a Baptist Sunday school classroom,
not far away from where you grew up. Remember that day, what we
all talked about, what was on your heart, and how much hope
there was in the room. Mr. President, recall that day, take a
breath, and say a prayer before you decide to turn away from the
children who are so important to our nation's soul and to
yours.
God bless you,
Jim Wallis
Take action:
http://go.sojo.net/campaign/schip_bush/8gn5bedrpkmdxe5?
i grew up without insurance... and i never thought it was a big deal until recently. it really does make a difference on quality of life, stress levels for parents, and on who gets to be and stay healthy. all children, rich or poor, should have access to health care.
Recent Comments