Eastern Professor Nancy Thomas often shares the words of Eastern alumnus and justice advocate Bryan Stevenson in class: “the opposite of justice is poverty.” The fair trade coffee movement has provided one answer to the injustice of poverty by insisting that everyone involved in production, from South America to the United States, be paid a fair wage.

The Waltonian recently covered Jammin Java’s switch of coffee providers. The previous provider is a local fair-trade coffeehouse in Philadelphia, whereas the new provider, Peet’s, is a franchise based out of California that only offers one fair-trade blend, which Eastern doesn’t currently carry.

Curious to learn about the history of fair-trade coffee at Eastern, I contacted Sara Frymoyer Bishop–an Eastern alumna and former Waltonian staff writer–who was instrumental in getting Eastern to use a fair-trade provider. Sara–who is currently Assistant Principal of KIPP DuBois Collegiate Academy in Philly–started at Eastern in 2002 but took a year off in 2004 before graduating in 2007 with a degree in sociology. Of her experience during that year off, Sara shares:

“I did a program called Mission Year in Oakland, Calif. While in Oakland, I interned at Transfair USA. They are the third party certifier of everything fair trade. Basically, if something features the official fair trade symbol, they put it on there as the stamp of approval that the farmers are indeed paid a living wage. I learned a lot while I was interning there about all of the colleges across the country that were exclusively fair trade and also about the real difference that fair wages make in farmers’ lives.”

These experiences led Sara to advocate for change upon returning to Eastern. “I brought up the issue with Speak, a club that I co-led at the time, and we decided to see what could be done. Before us, there were definitely steps toward fair trade. What we spent time doing was figuring out the reasons why Eastern wasn’t fair trade. We met with Sodexo and Bettie Ann. We met with David Black, the president at the time, to talk about the reasons why,” Sara says.

The process of getting fair-trade coffee at Eastern was a long one, lasting an entire year. During this time, Sara told me, she learned so much: “We learned that the issue is not as black and white as we had assumed–there were limitations with the company that provided coffee to Eastern. There were limitations in terms of budget. Basically, we worked together with Sodexo and the school leadership to bring about the change through lots of conversation, listening, and mutual respect. It allowed us to build a foundation of trust so that we were taken seriously. We worked together to figure out would make it work business-wise (ultimately helping the local provider to carry fair trade) and then we also worked together to figure out how we would educate the staff and student body on why they should want to choose fair trade.”

I asked Sara if she encountered hostility or opposition in her efforts. She replied, “I wouldn’t say opposition; I would say real factors that any institution deals with. I think people who are passionate about an issue have a tendency to be overly simplistic. Social change is not so simple. Real change means digging in and figuring out the many factors that influence a situation and working collaboratively to find a solution. And if that doesn’t work, going back to the drawing board, figuring out key influences and trying again and again and again. Would Sodexo be able to continue to use their local provider? Could the local provider get the fair trade product? Would it be worth the cost? Would enough people choose it? Because of the way we approached the situation, I never felt hostility.”

To conclude the interview, I asked Sara to describe what she sees as the benefit of using a local fair-trade provider and her response was stirring. “Local business is better for the local economy. Fair trade is totally in line with faith, reason, and justice. If the option for fair trade is available, no matter what the business factors, it is our responsibility to try to make it work.”

On Sept. 10, the Agora Institute hosted a lecture by Rabbi Dr. Meir Soloveichik. Entitled “Religious Freedom and the Flourishing City,” this lecture, which was part history lesson, part political treatise, provided a compelling vision for religion in 21st-century America. Rabbi Soloveichik is a prominent Jewish theologian. In addition to being Rabbi of the Congregation Shearith Israel, he is also the director of Yeshiva University’s Zahava and Moshael Straus Center for Torah and Western Thought.

Rabbi Soloveichik framed his lecture around the metaphor of strangers and neighbors. As people of various faith traditions, we are strangers and neighbors to those who do not share our religious beliefs and convictions. We are neighbors because we dwell together – dwelling not just in terms of geographic proximity but also as people in relationship with one another. There can be, indeed should be, love between neighbors, even if they do not share the same religious tradition. Nevertheless, we also are strangers and will need to remain strangers for as long as our religious traditions differ.

What does religious liberty look like within the context of a society that is made up of strangers-who-are-also-neighbors? The danger in current political thought is to say that religion is private and must be kept out of the public square, as if freedom of religion extended only to private worship. But this, Rabbi Soloveichik argues, is not in keeping with the founding vision of America. Religious freedom must also include the freedom to serve society as an expression of one’s religious convictions. This is particularly true when one’s religion values service to society as a greater good. If we are not free to express our religious convictions in service to our country, then we are not truly free at all.

This belief, that freedom of religion must include the right to serve society, animated the life of Jonas Phillips, a Jewish merchant and veteran of the Revolutionary War. During the early days of America’s founding, Phillips wrote a letter to George Washington in which he lamented that Jews wishing to serve in the Pennsylvania legislature were required to swear an oath upon a Christian (Old and New Testaments) Bible, an act of blasphemy for the Jewish people. He asked for that requirement to be removed so that there would not be a barrier keeping Jewish citizens from being able to participate in civic society.

Perhaps the most stirring picture of this stranger-neighbor dynamic at work in the flourishing city comes from an intriguing vignette from American history that Rabbi Soloveichik shared. On the morning of July 4, 1788, at a patriotic parade, a newspaper reported that “the clergy of different Christian denominations, with the rabbi of the Jews, [were] walking arm in arm.” This parade must have been a powerful scene to behold, neighbors walking arm in arm. But when the parade was over, the people gathered around tables of food, and the Jewish patriots gathered around their own table of kosher food. Thus, these neighbors were also strangers, their religious differences irreconcilable.

As our country becomes more diverse, Rabbi Soloveichik’s words will continue to increase in importance. We would do well to remember these lessons from history and to guard the right to religious liberty for all in our country. We must, for the sake of the flourishing city, live as both stranger and neighbor, working together where we can, disagreeing when we are compelled to and loving one another all the while. A good starting place for us today is learning to listen to others with empathy and choosing to celebrate the common ground we share. When we do disagree, a commitment to civility and a willingness to give others the benefit of the doubt in their motives will allow space for healthy conversation.

“I Am Malala,” the remarkable true story of Malala Yousafzai’s fight for the right to education, has been on the New York Times bestseller list for 29 weeks. Her memoir was called “fearless” by “The Guardian,” while “The Washington Post” wrote, “this is a book that should be read not only for its vivid drama but for its urgent message about the untapped power of girls.” A documentary film of Malala’s incredible story entitled “He Named Me Malala” is coming to theaters on Oct. 2. Malala is a Pakistani activist who advocates for girls’ right to education. She is the youngest-ever Nobel Prize laureate, earning that honor in 2014 at the age of 17.

Her book chronicles the incredible fight against the Taliban to ensure education for girls. Malala wears the scars of this fight. On Oct. 9, 2012, Malala was shot in the head by a Taliban gunman. It is a miracle that she recovered. The Taliban tried to silence her, but instead their actions launched her to the center of international attention, giving her a platform from which she could share her empowering message: “The Taliban is against education…But I said, ‘Education is education. We should learn everything and then choose which path to follow. Education is neither Eastern nor Western, it is human.’”

I think this book resonates with its readers for a number of reasons. First, Malala’s optimistic tone is refreshing. She recognizes, more than most of us, the sobering realities of a patriarchal world, but she refuses to give up hope ,and she gives us hope as well. Malala writes, “To sit down on a chair and read my books with all my friends at school is my right. To see each and every human being with a smile of happiness is my wish.”

The second reason this book is popular is that it works as a strong feminist manifesto without demeaning or bashing men. This respect for men is seen most powerfully and most intimately in Malala’s regard for her father, who is also an activist. She writes often about how her father has influenced her. In the area of Pakistan where Malala was born, people often lament the birth of a daughter. Malala takes great pride in recounting how her father celebrated her birth. The mutual respect between father and daughter continues to frame the notoriety they receive for their activism: “I knew that any of the girls in my class could have achieved what I had achieved if they had had their parents’ support.”

Finally, this book is ultimately a signpost reminding us that good will prevail, that the pen really is mightier than the  sword. The book, and Malala’s own life, assures us that there is meaning within our suffering. In light of this truth, we are inspired by Malala’s courage, to be courageous ourselves as we seek to champion justice.

Sources: “I Am Malala,”

www.washingtonpost.com

www.theguardian.com

To be Alone with God and Books

Walking into Dr. Gary Jenkins’ office, my gaze immediately fixated on two items hanging on his wall. The first was a painting of Elizabeth I of England. Later on in our interview, Dr. Jenkins would point to the Queen during one of his fascinating digressions. The second item, arguably no less significant, was a map entitled “Pub Stops of Oxford,” a gift from a dear student after her return from studying abroad.

Jenkins lit up when he talked about Oxford, and specifically the libraries of Oxford, his favorite place to be besides church. “There’s something special about being alone with books,” Jenkins mused, especially the great books that invite us to enter into the conversation that humans have engaged in for centuries. Participation in this conversation is at the heart of Dr. Jenkin’s vision for learning. He’s been teaching history at Eastern since 1994, and recently, Dr. Jenkins has helped create a conversation about Orthodox Christianity through a new on-campus Orthodox Institute.

When asked to describe his spiritual journey, Dr. Jenkins responded, “I was reared fundamentalist and I read myself into Calvinism in college.” After earning his Bachelor of Arts degree in religion from Manahath College, he attended the Seminary of the Reformed Episcopal Church for his Master of Divinity degree and was ordained in the Presbyterian church.

By 1986, he was reading Orthodox writers, finding the ideas both interesting yand strange. While studying at the University of Maryland for his Master of Arts in medieval European history, his mentor and advisor was Aristeides Papadakis, a Greek Orthodox scholar. Dr. Jenkins tried to incorporate some ideas from Orthodoxy while remaining Presbyterian. But in 1990, “I took a shot to the midsection, reading Barth, realizing that in reading him, I was not what he said I should be in the sense of being an evangelical.”

In 1995, as he was working on his dissertation, Jenkins had an epiphany while listening to a lecture by theologian William Abraham. The lecture changed the nature of his dissertation and confirmed  to Jenkins that he could no longer be Presbyterian. Four years later, during the summer of 1999 he began the process of becoming Orthodox. He was received into the Orthodox Church on June 24, 2000, on the feast day of St. John the Baptist.

Dr. Jenkins says what draws him to Orthodoxy is that it gives him the peace that surpasses mere certitude. As to why he stays, Orthodoxy is who he is: ”there is no other place to go. The grammar, the rhetoric, and the logic of Orthodoxy became the only way that I could think.”

Our conversation stilled and we paused to enjoy the silence. This provided counterpoint to our discussion of music. Dr. Jenkins thoroughly enjoys Renaissance and Baroque music and composers such as Bach and Vivaldi. When Thomas Tallis–a composer of beautiful sacred music–was mentioned, Dr. Jenkins opened Youtube and played “Spem In Alium,” a staggering choral piece written for forty voices. For a time, we sat quietly, both enjoying the detailed harmonies, then continued, our voices soft to allow space for the singing in the background.

I asked Dr. Jenkins to describe some influential figures in his life. He was hesitant at first to name anyone because he said there were so many he could speak of, and to name only a few would seem to dishonor the many others. I was struck with profound wonder listening to Dr. Jenkins describe how others sowed into his life.

I decided to end the interview on a lighter note. “What movies do you like?” I asked. All sense of quiet reverence was shattered. “Nothing by Peter Jackson,” Jenkins uttered emphatically. He does enjoy watching Marvel films with his daughter, along with the works of the Cohen brothers, particularly “The Big Lebowski.” Pop culture aside, he appreciates older films. “Just think, a film where a man loves a woman but is willing to give her up for a greater cause,” Jenkins said, describing his favorite film, “Casablanca,” “What a picture of virtue!”

The word virtue is a great word of summary for who Dr. Jenkins is, in the context of his Orthodox faith and in the context of his teaching here at Eastern. Oh, and books, definitely books, especially if those books are found in Oxford’s quiet libraries.

Image courtesy of Matt Wolek / The Waltonian

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