Southeast Asia Flooding Far Worse Than Texas

Where will all these people find help?

While all eyes are on the terrible effects of Hurricane Harvey, other parts of the world are experiencing even more unimaginable flooding as a result of monster monsoon rains and other severe weather events.

In impoverished parts of Nepal, India and Bangladesh there are already over 1,200 known casualties from recent downpours, following the deaths of over 1,000 from floods and mudslides in Sierra Leone. In contrast, droughts in places like Somalia and Ethiopia threaten the lives of millions. Yet one hears very little in our media about these disasters.

For example, there was not one word in today's Daily News-Record about any of these events, but according to a piece in yesterday's Washington Post, they are happening more frequently and with a greater loss of life than ever before. Part of this is due to oceans becoming warmer, generating more energy to fuel these earth-drenching storms. Another factor is the effect of more and more deforestation which affects climate change and increases the likelihood of mudslides on hillsides where millions of the world's poorest live.

Then there is this from today's Wall Street Journal:

“Twenty storms causing a billion dollars or more in damage have taken place since 2010, not including Hurricane Harvey, compared with nine billion-dollar floods in the full decade of the 1980s, according to inflation-adjusted estimates from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Seven have hit just since 2016..."

Those of us who have contributed more than our share of the megatons of carbon dioxide being spewed into the atmosphere in past decades need to feel the greater responsibility to change our ways and to reach out to those who are affected, both here and abroad.

May God have mercy on us all.

An Urgent Case For Some 'Hilarious' Giving

II Corinthians 9:7

All of us are shocked by the terrible effects of Hurricane Harvey on Houston and surrounding areas. And this represents only a fraction of the ongoing suffering experienced by millions in northern Africa and the Middle East due to relentless wars and famines.

In the wake of a devastating first century famine, Jewish missionary Paul urged Gentile believers in Corinth to take up a generous offering to aid believers in Judea, some 1000 miles away.

In the original Greek text Paul describes God as delighting in "cheerful" giving, and chooses the adjective "ilaron", the root of our English word hilarious, to make his point. This doesn't mean that Paul is implying the kind of levity that our word hilarity suggests in today's English, but rather that believers are to give joyfully, generously, and without hesitation.

Today we are faced with the reality of millions of refugees of flooding, war and famine whose lives are in similar peril. Unless our hearts are, as in the case of Dr. Suess's Grinch, several sizes too small, we will respond to today's extraordinary needs in extraordinary ways, if not with hilarity, then at least with unprecedented abandonment.

At this year's Virginia Mennonite Relief Sale, we will have the opportunity to make generous cash, check and credit card contributions to its SOS ("Sharing Our Surplus") Fund for refugee relief in addition to our liberally supporting My Coins Count, the auction and food and other sales.

There is no justifiable reason why a well-to-do community like ours shouldn't be able to double or triple the annual amounts (over $340,000 last year) the Sale raises for Mennonite Central Committee.

But we don't have to wait for September 29 or 30 to do this. We can make an online donation right now on the Relief Sale website, designating our gift for the SOS Fund, or directly to MCC.

Meanwhile, please share this word with others, and urge them to consider doing some truly 'ilaron' giving to help make a positive difference.

Some Down Sides To Being Named 'Harvey'

(Hurricane Harvey)

"A good name is to be chosen over great riches."

- Proverbs 22:1

I've never been crazy about my name, though I'm sure my parents could have chosen worse. I could have been named after my dad's only full brother, George, an ultra conservative who distanced himself from most of the rest of his family. As it turned out, my parents chose to name me after my uncle Harv, one of Dad's many half brothers. And since I was their eighth child, maybe they felt the best names were already taken.

Sadly, Harv never became my favorite uncle, either. He lived in a distant state and was someone I never got to know well.

But I'm OK with my name. And we later had a great (unrelated) neighbor named Harvey Yoder, and my older sister at times stayed with a wonderful Harvey Yoder family in Newport News while she was in nurses training.

In later life I did get some occasionally ribbing about the imaginary 6 foot, 3 1/2 inch rabbit in Mary Chase's well known play "Harvey". But that's OK, too.

More recently I've sometimes been confused with a Harvey who shares my last name and who is the author of numerous books widely read in some Mennonite circles. It so happens that we have almost identical church backgrounds, that neither of has a middle name, and that if one googles Harvey Yoder on the internet, it may be hard to tell which is which. But that's not a big problem, either, though I've frequently had to explain that I'm not that better known Mennonite author.

But now, horrors, I'm being associated with a hurricane with characteristics that are everything I don't want ascribed to me--violent, destructive, terrorizing and life threatening (On the slightly positive side, I've learned there have been many babies born in the past few days who were named Harvey).

Meanwhile I've found a website that lists 100 famous people with Harvey as their first name, ranging from comedian Harvey Corman to psychologist Harvey Karman. I've even learned there is a revered (and blind) sixth century Breton saint by the name of Harvey Herveous Houarniaule.

So I guess I need to take the bad with the good, and make sure I add some good to the reputation of the name if I can.

I would also like to nominate the legendary St. Herve to be the patron saint of all who live in the path of terrifying storms.

How 'Mom Rachel' So Loved The World

Rachel's warm heart welcomed scores of international neighbors into her home.

At age 85 Rachel Stoltzfus, a member of our house church, got to see the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. She had grown up in the Midwest and eventually moved with her husband Robert to Harrisonburg, but never got to travel far from her roots.

As a youth she had dreamed of someday going abroad in some kind of mission work. But when she and her husband volunteered to the Mennonite Board of Missions soon after their marriage, they were assigned to plant an experimental integrated church in Louisiana instead. They were later transferred to Breathitt County, Kentucky, where they opened up their home to foster children and pastored a small Appalachian congregation.

Rachel Stoltzfus 1925-2017

When they moved to the Valley, they settled into a modest three-bedroom house near EMU with their two children and befriended and housed scores of international students, along with countless others who benefited from their hospitality, something Rachel continued to offer for over a decade after Robert’s death in 1995.

In her final years Rachel went to live with her daughter Debbie and husband Gonzalo in Bethesda, Maryland, and about six years ago they rented a beach house and took Rachel with them to see the ocean. She marveled at being able to see so much of the horizon and taste the ocean salt water for the first time.

Rachel died in May of this year while on a visit here with her son David and wife Twila, and on Independence Day members of her family, friends, and of our house church congregation celebrated her life in a memorial service held in her honor. 

Notably present were some of the individuals from other parts of the world whom Rachel and Robert had befriended, many of whom expressed their deep gratitude for all she had done for them as their second mom.

So while Rachel never got to cross the Atlantic or Pacific, she had the kind of warm heart that welcomed the world into her own home, offering hospitality and room and board to new friends from places like the Congo, Kenya, Palestine, China, and elsewhere around the globe. Scores of these individuals have gone on to careers in business, law and the medical field and see their time with ‘Mom Rachel’ as an invaluable part of their journey to success.

Rachel did all this out of sheer love for God and neighbor, without support of a board of directors or a charitable organization, and without any salary or retirement benefits.

If everyone lived and loved like this, it would truly save the world.

Here is a link to Rachel's memorial service.

Pat Buchanan Reveals White Supremacy's Roots

Landing of Columbus, painting by John Vanderlyn

In an intriguing column on the editorial page of our August 17, 2017, Daily News-Record, Patrick Buchanan raises the question, 'If We Erase Our History, Who Are We?'

I find myself disagreeing with much of what Mr. Buchanan writes, but here he is surprisingly candid and insightful about the deep roots of American attitudes about race. He clearly makes the case that white supremacy is a centuries old mindset that is a core part of our nation's history, and Buchanan actually defends that history. 

Here's an excerpt from the column:

Looking back over the history of a Western Civilization, which we call great, were not the explorers who came out of Spain, Portugal, France, Holland and England all white supremacists?

They conquered in the name of the mother countries all the lands they discovered, imposed their rule upon the indigenous peoples, and vanquished and eradicated the native-born who stood in their way.

Who, during the centuries-long discovery and conquest of the New World, really believed that the lives of the indigenous peoples were of equal worth with those of the colonizers?

They believed European Man had the right to rule the world.

Beginning in the 16th century, Western imperialists ruled much of what was called the civilized world. Was not the British Empire, one of the great civilizing forces in human history, a manifestation of British racial superiority?

*****************************

So there you have it, not from some left-leaning source, but from an avid conservative nationalist, here stating that the founders were the product of long held convictions about western European supremacy. Thus our sometimes unconscious but deep seated  racial biases certainly precede our post-Civil War Jim Crow laws and the  emergence of neo-Nazi fringe groups. Rather, white supremacy may be deeply embedded in our historical DNA.
Is Buchanan right?

What If Seeing The Stars Was As Rare As Witnessing An Eclipse?

source

Like many amazing phenomena in nature, we take our sun pretty much for granted as a highly predictable source of our light and sustainer of our life. Only when it becomes partially or completely hidden do we give it much attention.

Today's eclipse certainly proves the point. Millions of us will be giving this wonderful star our rare full attention.

But what if we only rarely got to see the billions of suns in the heavens that put on a celestial light show for us every night?

EMU's late professor M. T. Brackbill, a legend in his own time, had an infectious love of astronomy, and wrote the following piece a number of years prior to my being a student at what was then EMC.

Here’s a slightly condensed version of his essay:

"If The Stars Shone Only One Night Every Thousand Years"

M.T. Brackbill

Occasionally a nova flashes up in the sky, and newspaper headlines proclaim a new star! People go out in the night to find the newcomer, expecting to see something wonderful--and they do! But instead of finding one new star, they find thousands of the them, that is, stars new to them; and they find the nova, if they find it all, no different from the other stars. So they go back to their homes disappointed. It is about as good as hearing that a new dandelion has opened on the lawn, adding another bloom to the dozens that are already there!

If there had never been any stars in the sky, and a star should appear, that would really be news. Everybody would be out to see it. But if several thousand stars would suddenly appear, that would be astounding news indeed! Some would say, “The world is coming to an end!”

Now let us suppose that the stars regularly shone only one night every thousand years. Let us say that today’s paper announced that, according to reliable predictions, the stars are to appear in exactly ten weeks from tonight. Everyone would be talking stars.

Meteorologists would study their cycles in earnest in order to predict the probable state of the weather on this night. The season would mark an all time high for tourists to those countries boasting sunny skies. Dirigibles, blimps and airplanes would be in readiness to take people above the weather if necessary.

Those working at night would plan to relieve each other in relays so that each would have a glance at the heavens on the night of the stars. Hospitals would arrange to wheel the sick out onto porches or balconies or to roll their beds close to windows. Prisoners in solitary confinement would be allowed at least a few minutes under guard in an open open courtyard. And those in death chambers doomed to die just a few days before the stars would be given a stay of sentence.

The night of the stars draws nearer. Expectancy becomes almost unbearable. The prospect is as entrancing as a hundred solar eclipses. Scientists make every preparation to study these strange and transient heavenly lights. Men and women die hoping against fate that they could have lived a few days longer to see the stars. People watch the empty sky each night for a possible premature appearance.

“Tonight the stars will come!” The exodus from the cities begins. The roads are rapidly lined with cars, mountains and hilltops are dotted with people. Housetops and roofs of skyscrapers are crowded with spectators. Excitement is intense. Anxious eyes watch the sun sink slowly to the horizon. “Will the stars come? Will they come?”

The west begins to glow. As twilight deepens, expectancy becomes almost overwhelming.

A shout! Someone catches the sight of Venus! All eyes strain to find the bright light in the west. Shout after shout arises as other eyes find it. And as the twilight edge creeps westward around the earth, new waves of shouts arise in other countries and in other tongues: “The stars!” “THE STARS!”

Another shout! Jupiter breaks though, then Saturn! And amid the “Ah’s” and Oh’s” and other exclamations from millions of throats along a pole-pole front, presently, in the east. Sirius shines out, palely at first, and then Rigel and Capella. Star after star after star breaks through, singly, then, by twos, by threes, soon by dozens, by fifties, by hundreds, bespangling the heavens in the deepening night. Oh, what a sight! What a ravishing vision of loveliness!

And now the Milky Way belts the starry dome, a hush comes over the earth, a gradual westward-bound subsiding of the exulting shouts of astonishment and praise. The sublime glory of the jewel studded skies slowly wheeling in quiet splendor brings a few hour of awe and universal peace to earth.

By and by the moon in its accustomed round lifts her face in the east, still the “Queen of the Night,” but now with six thousand subjects, the stars, heavenly subjects, and never so watched and adored by earth’s inhabitants.

What a night! The millennial pageant of the heavens!

Could we but see it every night!

HARD TIME VIRGINIA Volume II, Number 3 (an occasional newsletter for Virginia inmates)

Blind inmate poet Minor Smith, age 73

DOJ Criticizes Solitary Confinement for Mentally Ill

Joe Davidson, in a July 12, 2017, Washington Post column, reports concerns expressed by a watchdog group of the U.S. Justice Department about the use of solitary confinement for long periods of time in federal prisons. He also cites a general lack of mental health treatment for US inmates.

Some mentally ill persons are housed in solitary-confinement conditions for years, according to the report, with limited human contact or opportunities for physical or mental stimulation. This creates the kind of stress that can contribute to psychosis in anyone, but especially people who already have diagnosable emotional and mental problems.

Local Spouse Responds to Harvspot Blog on "The High (and Hidden) Costs Of Incarceration"

My husband committed credit card fraud in 2011 and gave a false name when confronted by police. He got two years probation and did weekend jail for two months. In 2015 he got off probation and thought he was a free man. Then he and I got pulled over in on June 28, 2017, for a seat belt violation. The Sheriff ran both our licenses and my husband was informed there had been a capias out on him.We were in shock.

He was arrested, taken to Sheriff's Department where they gave him a court date and let him go. He had a fine that was past due that he had made small payments on, and he went to court and was assigned a public defender. The next time he came to court to make payment arrangements he got locked up for a year!

The Circuit Court Judge asked why he had never seen a probation officer. He had already completed probation in the County where we live and was not aware that he had to complete probation in ________ County as well.

It makes me sick to think our tax dollars are paying for a man who has already done 2 years probation to sit in jail, who could be out repaying his fines and paying his debt to society. This is an injustice and a true disgrace to our justice system! 

My husband had never been in trouble or incarcerated before. He is 45 yrs old, is diabetic and has a bad case of arthritis along with his nerve problems, and he is not doing well at the Middle River Jail. He's been waiting patiently to see a medical doctor there, but has been there for a week and a half and no one has even taken his blood sugar level yet.

There are hardened criminals who get less time then my husband got for this one bad judgement he made in 2011.

Questionable Jail Deaths to get Closer Scrutiny

The following is by Bill Bartel in the 7/25/17 Virginian-Pilot:

Any future questionable deaths in Hampton Roads Regional Jail and other Virginia jails will require closer state scrutiny under a new law that took effect this month. The legislation also puts more law enforcement and health care professionals on the State Board of Corrections.

Gov. Terry McAuliffe, who pressed for tighter oversight of regional jails, has announced the appointment of six new members to the nine-member corrections board, including Virginia Beach Police Deputy Chief Bill Dean, two former sheriffs, a physician, a health care executive and a minister. Their appointments were guided by the new requirement that the board have members with specific backgrounds, including health care or law enforcement, as well as “a citizen member who represents community interests.”

The statute, unanimously approved by the General Assembly earlier this year, expanded the board’s responsibilities to include reviewing the questionable death of an inmate in local or regional correctional facilities. The panel has the power to conduct hearings, issue subpoenas and take sworn testimony. Its probe can lead to proposed policy changes, but any criminal investigation would have to be conducted by state or local law enforcement officials.  

Virginia Parole Board Grants 32 July Releases

Of 242 cases reviewed by the current four-member Parole Board now chaired by Adrianne Bennett, 32 inmates were granted parole in July. Only four of these were geriatric releases, at a time when ever more inmates are needing to be transferred to the Deerfield Correctional Center, a virtual nursing home offering care to aging and ill inmates.

Mr. Algie Howell, a long time member of the Parole Board who I have been told has often cast deciding nay votes in inmate cases, is rumored to have been relieved of his assignment by the Governor, and according to the VPB website, no one has yet been appointed to replace him.

Another Poem by Legally Blind Inmate Minor Smith, Recently Moved to Deerfield Correctional Center

"FROM THE COOKIES TO THE CROSS"

BY MINOR JUNIOR SMITH, age 73

Shopping became a pleasure, and we each preferred colors that were not dim.

New clothes looked so nice, only we could not afford to purchase many of them.

Jennifer bought two western style outfits and other items she had selected.

Although my new sport coat matched her fashion, boots and hats were neglected.

That evening, we lugged our suitcases into a restaurant for a light meal.

By and by, in a supermarket, a package of cookies was included in our next deal.

Life was still looking up, while we boarded the Trailway bus in single file.

Our smiling driver simply told my wife she was really traveling in style.

We exited Roanoke County, then travelled through Montgomery, Pulaski, and Whythe.

Jennifer had progressed poorly in the fourth grade and never entered the fifth.

At VSDB (1), she had been the one girl who had skated among us boys on the court.

Together, she and I had rarely attended the school's activities of some sort.

In Sunday school at Staunton, I would have been willing to marry Mary Beth.

Above my TV. chair at dads, a crucifix still hung to reveal his "Good Mans" death.

In characterization, I have given his favorite Grandson the name Peter.

That one had been privileged by parents as though he would become a great leader.

His father, Sam, had lumbered for Dad and had labored as our Blacksmith.

Then Sam bought property in Williamsburg for Gordon, whom he had hauled logs with.

Among Dad's four sons in law, Sam had been the one whom I had admired the most.

He had provided well for his family,and usually carried out each boast.

Jennifer and I hurried off the bus in Bristol to find some food that was good.

We hadn't eaten my cookies assuming that they were probably as hard as wood.

It appeared to us that we had ridden 200 more miles as we rolled into Knoxville.

In all my future travels, I would never tour the cities I desired to see:Nashville. 

Jennifer favored songs by Patsy Cline, Roy Acuff; she too liked Minny Pearl.

I wondered what all had gone amiss in the life of the slain little Knoxville girl.

Daddy had revealed anger to some people down his hard working hands.

Although compelled by spite, Mom had been strict about some of Gods commands.

To retaliate for having been abused by Mom, children, robbers, and rookies.

Upon reentering Chattanooga, I opened the package and gave Jennifer the cookies.

Momentarily, I considered the convicts at Silverdale and their various pains.

I imagined that former prison mines there were still asleep in chains.

Jennifer had verbal control of my actions like a mean Cowgirl with a whip.

A boil about Little Rock, we acted like two runaways during the entire trip.

Granny Johnson lived beyond her eightieth birthday before she had been found dead.

To give some people information, she did not need to hit the nail right on the head.

At the Memphis depot, a display case revealed a little silver cross and chain.

Fulfilling Jennifer's desire, I bought it, unaware that it would match her cane.

What we rode across next made us proud, yet I shrugged off a meager shiver.

Our driver announced that we were crossing the wide and still muddy Mississippi River. 

(1) Virginia School For The Deaf And Blind