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From Corpus Christi

February 13, 2009 | posted by Lars under united states, updates | Comments (8)

I drafted the first paragraph of a post on Tuesday; now, just three days later, it seems hard to finish these thoughts, and not only because of the Spanish keyboards.  I hope this can stand alone for now… more to come (tomorrow?)

I am writing now from Corpus Christi, a town bearing the name of the Body of Christ; simultaneously universal and historical, whole and bloodied, forceful and weak, it’s a body mysterious enough to make one wonder what the city’s founders were thinking when they settled and named the area in 1519.  Here we are, though, with over 1500 miles (2400 km) behind us and the U.S.-Mexican border at Laredo 150 miles (240 km) through the desert ahead.  Resting with the Iglesia Menonita Principe de Paz in Corpus Christi, we are preparing ourselves and our bikes for a new and demanding stage of the journey we began over a month ago.  We’ve been warming up our Spanish with our hosts here and in New Orleans, talking to folks here about recent violence between drug cartels and law enforcement near the border as well as construction of “The Wall” along the border from Laredo to Brownsville.  On Saturday, our hosts in Tivoli, Texas told stories of immigrants walking through their ranch after their coyote (people immigrants pay to get them across the border and who generally take advantage of the immigrants) dumped them on the state highway nearby; tomorrow, we will be biking through the very same desert which migrants are currently crossing by night during the “cool” winter in south Texas.  In Harrisonburg, VA, the realities of immigration seem very present, but here we have no choice but to engage the issue, with all of its personal and socio-political complexities.

 

Texas Photos, etc.

February 10, 2009 | posted by Lars under photos, united states | Comments (6)

	Texas February 3-13, 2009 (anticipated)
			Roadkill: a still-life of local fauna on the highways and the hedges

Throughout the past five cities…

February 3, 2009 | posted by Jon under united states, updates | Comments (13)

…..we’ve encountered church in its many manifestations. Hospitable, worshipful, solemn, uninviting, impersonal, friendly, interested, uncaring, alive, thriving, and bold. In each of the days of riding between New Orleans, LA and Port Arthur, TX, we have either stayed in or been provided for by some faith-based organization, and it’s been an interesting journey. Lars and I have been discussing our recent church sampling over the hours we spend on our bikes everyday, and we wanted to share some of the insights and also questions from our time spent moving from congregation to congregation. Here’s the rundown:

New Orleans, LA : Iglesia Amor Viviente

The Big Easy - a city of contrasts. Bourbon Street blocks away from the Catholic church on Jackson Square, thousands of church-goers and practicing witches, Mardi Gras and Lent. A mixture of cultures, customs, and religions that is evident in the city’s cuisine and music. While in New Orleans, we stayed in a luxurious 4 bed, 2 bath apartment provided by Iglesia Amor Viviente in Metairie, just outside the city. Their church was doing a week of prayer and fasting along with nightly meetings to worship and pray together. We joined them in two of the services, but unfortunately not in the fasting :). The church experience there was alive, caring, and interested in our journey, recommending contacts for us in Latin America as well as where the best shrimp Po’ Boys could be found. I continue to be surprised and renewed by the diverse group of people that associate themselves with the term “Mennonite.”

Morgan City, LA : Ministerial Alliance

A town of industry, much of the business route into Morgan City was dominated by shipping and oil structures. We eventually found our way to The Healing Center Fellowship - a non-denominational church pastored by John Smilie (yes we liked his last name, too). His wife, Jean, took us in and offered something to drink while John told us about the Ministerial Alliance - a coalition of churches in Morgan City who fund food and hotel vouchers for “transient” people such as ourselves. So after a short background check, we were eating McDonald’s and staying in a hotel courtesy of the churches of Morgan City. As delighted as we were to encounter this program (and, being recipient, we can’t knock the program), it raised some questions for us. Is this program, wonderful as it is, doing the work of the church in a less personal manner? Is there anything lost when buying a hotel room for someone rather than hosting them in your church or home ?

Abbeville, LA : St. Mary Magdalen Catholic Church

Abbeville is 90% Catholic. Not all practicing, but it certainly seemed that way as we pulled into town right before the 4 PM Saturday mass. Cars were parked triple wide on the street, but it didn’t matter. Almost everyone was going to church. So, naturally, we did too. After the service, (and realizing that I hadn’t been to enough Catholic services to know when to do what), we got to talking to Father Don, who led the worship that day. In ten minutes we were in his car headed for one of the nicest seafood restaurants in town. In two hours we were full of great seafood and had a hotel room for the next two nights. That was how Father Don was. You couldn’t refuse his hospitality. He didn’t give you a chance, and you had to have a good reason not to accept. His hospitality knocked our combined socks off, and we laid on our hotel beds bewildered, wondering how we so quickly went from a church service with no place to go to a hotel room with 2 continental breakfasts to look forward to. God is good, and sometimes more than good for no apparent reason. How can we emulate the grace and “pushy” nature of Father Don’s hospitality? How does it become so natural that it seems rude to decline?

Lake Charles, LA : First Methodist School

After trying our public library standby, and getting turned down by two huge churches telling us “they weren’t equipped to host us,” we decided to try a preschool connected with a Methodist Church in town. Unconventional, but it worked. The director, Sharon, let us in and gave us a 1/2 gallon of grape juice and four Lean Cuisine microwave dinners, which were delicious. After dinner we spent the night in the Frog Room, next to Dora the Explorer Huggies and LOTS of colorful laminated signage. So why did we get invited in by a preschool and refused by churches with gyms, weight rooms, and intramural sports? What should the church’s response be to people like us? What message does “not being equipped” send?

Port Arthur, TX : The Rock Community Outreach Center - Assemblies of God

According to Pastor Baugh, pastor of The Rock Community Outreach Center, the town of Port Arthur was planned on the basis of witchcraft and used to be entire white upper class. That has since changed, and the booming oil town of yesterday has gone and with it a “white flight” occurred. The town is now mostly people of African American, Latino, and Vietnamese decent, with quite a few rundown housing projects. We arrived in Port Arthur early, and were trying to decide our next steps when a man at the corner gas station recommended a church two blocks away. So we stumbled upon The Rock. The pastor answered the door, and we soon had a nursery to stay in for the night. Pastor Baugh told us many fascinating stories of passing out food and clothing in the projects, as well as prostitutes and drug dealers weeping when he told them he was there for them. “You just need to go out there and love people” was a quote of his that stuck with me, and one that I think we can all learn from.

So it has been a whirlwind tour of different beliefs, experiences, cultures, and people these past couple of days. One thing I have come to depend on is God as the Orchestrator of all things. In looking at the constants throughout these 5 cities, one thing that remains is that we were provided for, in some way or another. Where someone dropped the hospitality ball, someone else picked it right up. Not that we’ve come to expect people to take us in, it has just happened to us every day for the past four weeks. Even skeptics should start to see a pattern here….

Another constant is that we met and interacted with people trying to follow God. Each in their own way, and with their own twist on things, but that core desire to live a life pleasing to the Lord remains, and we have seen evidence of that pursuit in many people, each serving as a witness to their own spiritual experience.

May the delicate intricacies of this web of connections, people, cultures, religions, and backgrounds that we are attempting to weave throughout this trip be strengthened and guided by God….

Lean on me

February 1, 2009 | posted by Lars under united states, updates | Comments (5)

Like half of the other sober tourists in New Orleans’ French Quarter, we were eating our obligatory beignets at the Café du Monde, only a levee away from the muddy Mississippi. We couldn’t see the levee, though; it was a breezy day with a bit of a chill, so heavy curtains had been rolled down to enclose the covered patio, with the exception of two panels, through which one of the districts many street performers sang.

Sometimes in our lives,
we all have pain, we all have sorrow;
but if we are wise,
we know that there’s always tomorrow.

Though it wasn’t evident from the historic district of New Orleans, the wounds of Hurricane Katrina still permeate the physical and social landscape of gulf regions of Mississippi and Louisiana.  Two days earlier, we had biked along the beachfront drive through Biloxi and Gulfport, Mississippi.  Battered live oaks and concrete slab foundations like tombstones lined the newly paved road; carpets and other debris still hung from trees as some odd memorial of the devastation.  Some of the huge oaks did not survive the storm, however; in many of these cases, new seedlings are growing, but in some places the trunks remain, carved into rooted public artwork.  Reflecting the gulf ecosystem and some image of freedom and liberation, most of these sculptures depict herons, eagles, and fish in sweeping, fluid motion.

Lean on me when you’re not strong,
I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on,
for it won’t be long,
till I’m gonna need somebody to lean on.

We stayed in Gulfport with Nelson & Pat Roth.  Soon after we arrived, Nelson, the pastor of Gulfhaven Mennonite Church, told us the story of how he and Pat camped out under a couch in their hallway during the worst 12 hours of Katrina’s wrath.  “No one was unaffected by the storm,” he said, recounting how one family at Gulfhaven unexpectedly got a beachfront lot when the 20 houses between them and the shore were wiped away, making them the second house from the beach.  Because of the income demographics and Mennonite Disaster Service policies at the time, afer the hurricanes, Nelson said they realized that “no one at the church was going to be helped by MDS … but people with $250,000 homes still needed a lot of help.”  So the church of 200 decided to get to work, repairing each others’ homes, as well as those within a 10 mile radius of their church building.  Now, Nelson says, there are folks at the church who say “a storm blew us in here, but no storm’s going to blow us out.”

Please swallow your pride,
if I have faith you need to borrow,
for no one can fill those of your needs
that you won’t let show.

This isn’t the case for everyone, though.  As Hurricane Gustav was building in the gulf, “the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife,” Nelson said, “people’s stress was so high.”  Nelson’s just in the past year begun to realize the “spiritual damage” that was done in 2005.  “I’ve had grown men, native Mississippians with families, tell me that if another hurricane comes through here like Katrina, they’re done - they’ll pack up and move.”  In response, Gulfhaven has given its pastor time to develop a non-profit called Relevant Ministries to provide intern staff for small gulf states congregations of all denominations and to give young adults a year of ministry experience in these congregations.  The project is very much in its infancy, but it’s one which both Nelson and Pat have a deep passion for.

You just call on your brother when you need a hand,
we all need somebody to lean on;
he just might have a problem that you’ll understand,
we all need somebody to lean on.

The road into New Orleans along US Route 90 bears the wounds of Katrina, but one can see that some healing is taking place; the scabs are forming, slowly.  Rows of piers still run into the bayou as memories of former docks and boats are grounded in the grasses by the roadside, but people are returning, building houses that are almost comical - raised 15-20+ feet above the ground and reinforced to withstand a bombing - or a hurricane.  It was because of a bridge under construction, in fact, that we took a detour through the village of Pearlington, Mississippi and happened by a group of conservative Mennonites from Alberta working on a house there with Mennonite Disaster Relief.

As we neared the city, a kingfisher flew with us for awhile before veering off into the lake; throughout the day we had seen countless egrets, herons and other birds we wished we could identify.  Mostly, we’d see them fishing, nattering about, or simply standing in the bayou, depending on the species; but sometimes they’d fly, too.

The Gulf States

February 1, 2009 | posted by Lars under photos, united states | Comments (1)

	Alabama January 22-27, 2009
			Mississippi & Louisiana January 28 - February 3, 2009

Poarch Community Church

February 1, 2009 | posted by Jon under united states, updates | Comments (1)

       Thursday afternoon, January 22, we rolled up to Poarch Community Church, a Mennonite congregation on a Creek Indian Reservation near Atmore, AL.  The first thing we saw upon arrival was the church building, a quaint white structure bookended by two huge oak trees.  Legend has it these two trees were planted when the church was founded, and by looking at them today one can tell the church as been around for a while (50-60 years).  During my time there, I began to associate the those trees with the church community - well rooted in the past, yet providing shelter and fruit (OK, acorns) for people of Poarch today.

     Lars and his home congregation, Harrisonburg Mennonite Church, have been coming to Poarch for a week of fellowship and service for the past 12 years, so he was very well acquainted with everyone there.  However, by Sunday afternoon I was feeling very much at home with the 50 or so members of Poarch Community Church, and more than once was invited back anytime. 

       After the service on Sunday, the church held a potluck that we quickly learned was in honor of us.  I was amazed at how quickly word got around that we were visiting, as well as how quickly so much delicious food was assembled in one location.  Collard greens, fried chicken and pork chops, multiple casseroles, chocolate cheesecake, and SWEET tea were all present and enjoyed by all.

     After eating our fill and “taking some for road,” Lars and I got to sit and talk with three elderly ladies in the church for about two and a half hours.  It was very life-giving and interesting to talk to them, and I wish the conversation could have been recorded.  They were both genuinely interested and concerned about our trip, and at one point we had to pull out a map to reconcile differences in advice regarding the best route to Mobile.  Our conversation wandered from our trip to the broader Church, then back to Poarch Community Church, its history, and finally to what the new casino on the Creek reservation means for the tribe and the church community.

      As we all grew sleepy and the time for Sunday afternoon naps rolled around, we prayed together and then were given big hugs as we said our farewells.  I felt blessed to be part of a conversation that spanned gender, race, and age differences, and I look forward to other such conversations throughout this bike trip.

       That next morning, after some bike maintenance, a few posts on this site, and another delicious meal with the pastor of the church, who we stayed with, we said our goodbyes and headed off towards Mobile.  As we pedalled away, I was left with a pleasant mixture of memories of Poarch, AL. The congregation, the pastor, the three elderly ladies we spoke with, the histories and cultures of Native American Mennonites, the wonderful food, and finally the two huge oak trees - symbols of the ever growing work of God, both in Poarch and throughout the world.

Photos from the Peach State

January 25, 2009 | posted by Lars under photos, united states | Comments (2)

Georgia January 15-22, 2009

“Cheating”

January 25, 2009 | posted by Jon under united states, updates | Comments (3)

Call it a catch-up post, but I feel like people deserve a longer narrative of what has been going on these past couple of days in recompense for our neglecting to post…..

I respect people who call themselves purists, and I think there is a lot to be said for that viewpoint.  However, when it comes to bike touring, I consider myself an opportunistic purist.  That is, if I can ride, I will, and I prefer it.  But if I can’t ride, I’ll find another way to keep going.  This past week, that “another way” manifested itself in the form of hitchhiking.

Some people might look at the past couple of days of travel as “cheating”, but Lars and I decided early on that we weren’t going to kick ourselves or get depressed about failing to ride every mile.  First of all, our route doesn’t allow it (seach Wikipedia for Darien Gap), and second, we don’t have anything to prove.  It’s not a race, and at our final destination no one is going to fault us for not riding through hardly any of Alabama.  If they do, we already have a response for them - “When was the last time you rode 7,000+ miles transcontinentally?”

Yeah, so maybe I am a little disappointed that my rear sat on more seat cushion than leather saddle these past couple of days, but I think there are lessons to be learned from hitching, just like any other stretching experience.  But before the “thumbs up and out!” sermon, I should recount the week’s events, picking up where Lars’ post left off: Tuesday’s (Jan 20) “Inaugural” ride to Atlanta.

A journal excerpt (verbatim….I was tired when I wrote this):

103.5 miles. Enough said.  6 AM to 6:30 or 7 PM riding.  That seemed like that’s all that was (??).  Not good riding either.  Crammed, trafficky riding.  But to be a little less depressing, a list of things I saw on the road today:

4 bungees, 1 complete set of lingerie, string, tape, 1 frying pan, 2 ice cube trays, a sharp-looking knife, a Barbie, many glass shards, 1 car headlight, a couple of pens, and a hubcap.

I’m tired, congrats to Obama, goodnight.

Tuesday was by far our longest day, but we had Vernon’s house to look forward that evening.  Vernon is a wonderful man who used to teach at Goshen College, particularly in cross-cultural education, so it was interesting to talk both to him and to others with him present, since he added much to the conversation.  Little did we know we would have a cheering, picture-snapping receiving party to greet us when we pulled into their house.  After a splendid meal of cornbread and ham and bean soup, we chatted with Vernon and co. before they graciously left us with their entire house (Vernon remarried and now lives down the street with his wife, but still keeps his original house for guests).

That following morning we were treated to breakfast at IHOP where we met a friend of Vernon’s that worked for the state mapping all the dirt roads in Georgia by hand on linen sheets.  He ate with us, and apparently frequented the restaurant enough to be be able to order “the usual” - a senior special with grits instead of hash browns and two glasses of sweet tea :).  No wonder he comes back…

Lars and I then headed off down the road with full bellies and a bright outlook - for about 10 miles.  I didn’t expect to ride 100+ miles without consequence, especially after 5 days of rest, so that meant knee pain was back in full force.  We rode to I-85 where we promptly situated ourselves on the on-ramp with high hopes of catching a ride on the many trucks headed south.  The only car we managed to stop was a patrol car headed south that told us to get off of the on-ramp, and that hitching in Georgia was illegal.  We smiled and nodded and handed him a card with this website’s address on it, and headed back to the gas station to ask for rides there.  After 3.5 hours of no luck at the gas station, I decided to brave the on-ramp again.  As luck would have it, I was again scolded and told I would not get another chance.  Finally Lars and I caught a ride with two brothers and their Latino workers who were in the repo business.  That ride was culturally stretching for me, because it mixed the down-home, wild southern country boys with a quiet, observant Latino presence.  Then when we jumped in, it seemed as though all of our cultures were as squished as our bodies, and it was a bit uncomfortable.  If different cultures had scents, this ride was like walking into the Yankee Candle Store.  Thankfully it was only for 10 miles.

Following that ride, we got another short ride with a hunter who educated us about the difference between deer raised in Georgia and deer raised in Illinois (no “gamey” taste in Illinois meat), and then we got our final ride  with a couple headed back to Alabama from Atlanta with an automatic wheelchair for their neighbor.  They were incredibly gracious and dropped us off in La Grange, GA where Vernon had referred us ahead to a contact there, named Anton Flores.  After arriving at his home, we had a chance to eat a wonderful meal and talk to Anton and his wife, Charlotte, about a community they have started.  Alterna Community is a housing collective started by Anton and his wife to provide for immigrants in La Grange.  The Flores’ involvement allow immigrants to live in homes rather than trailers and still pay a similar rent, all where earning equity and learning about home ownership.  This group of close neighbors meet together almost daily for liturgy, prayer, or a meal, and work at meshing their beliefs, values, and daily lives into one cloth of life.

What impressed me most about Anton’s work was he really didn’t have many models to work from. Not many people have done this sort of shared buying, and I respect him for seeing a need, coming up with a solution, and then running with the idea.  So far it seems to be working quite well, and the community is expanding.

After breakfast with the Flores’, we headed back out onto the highway….my knee still bothered me. We had high hopes of making it to Montgomery, about 100 miles distant, that day.  We must have been looking extra presentable with our hair just right, because it was not more than half an hour before we got a ride taking us to Greenville, AL, about 140 miles from where we were.  We rode with an Apache helicopter technician that had just returned from Afghanistan.  He was very interesting to talk to, and we asked him tons of questions about his war experience, but again I felt a clash of beliefs that our conversation never really touched on.  I suppose that is part of being in a different culture, even in what seems like a fairly homogenous United States.

We arrived in Greenville around noon, where we leisurely ate lunch.  We were pleased with our position, having “ridden” 140 miles that day already, with about 70 left to go.  After lunch I approached a huge horse trailer and asked the two silent horsemen from Georgia if they would give Lars and I a ride.  They didn’t speak for what seemed like 5 min, finally muttering that, “there’s a lotta’ meanness goin’ around…” and that they would talk about it over their lunch.  After emerging, one of the horsemen introduced the other as, “the meanest man in Georgia.”  Lars and I both immediately considered the fact that we weren’t actually in Georgia, but didn’t tell the men our thoughts.  As soon as we loaded into the cab, the man in the front placed a sheathed knife between himself and the driver, I suppose as a warning to us shady bikers in case we tried to pull anything funny.  I smiled to myself as he put the knife away about halfway through the ride as they both warmed up to us.

After saying goodbye to our final ride, we rode the final 1/2 mile to the Poarch Creek Community Church, where we stayed Thursday afternoon through Sunday to rest my knees.  As we rode, I recounted the events of the past couple of days in my head.  The difficulty and uncertainty of hitching, the many different types of people we met, the split-second choice that people made to pick us up, the good fortune of finding people headed the same way we were, and all the continued hospitality we were shown along the way.  It is hard for me not to acknowledge the protection and guidance of God throughout such a process, and I’m not sure it would have been possible otherwise.  I am slowly learning how to hand over my current position, condition, and outlook to God, allowing space for the unexpected.  I welcome your prayers for our minds and bodies as we continue to exercise both.

Sweet Potato Biscuits!

January 24, 2009 | posted by Lars under recipes, united states | Comments (4)

These biscuits are a delicious way to use sweet potatoes.  I think the community ate six batches in two or three days while we were around… and we gladly contributed to the effort!

Jubilee Partners’ Sweet Potato Biscuits

2 C sweet potatoes (puréed)
2/3 C melted shortening or oil
1/3-1/2 C sugar
3-3 1/2 C flour
4 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 Tbsp honey

Combine until just mixed.  Knead dough lightly and pat to 1/2-3/4″ thick.  Cut biscuits and place on greased baking sheet; bake at 350°F for 15-18 minutes or until lightly browned on the bottom.  Enjoy warm with butter & honey!

Thirty years at Jubilee

January 24, 2009 | posted by Lars under united states, updates | Comments (4)

I’m writing now from Poarch, Alabama, just a 15 minute drive from the Florida state line; and again, we have a bit of catch-up to do.  One week ago, we were in rural northeastern Georgia with the Jubilee Partners, a Christian community committed to living out the peace, simplicity, and service of the biblical jubilee; two nights before we had biked literally over the river and through the woods on the drive leading into the farm where the two dozen community members live, tend the land, and host refugees in resettlement.  The next day, while the spring-term volunteers taught EFL classes, we got the comprehensive tour with Al Lawler, and then dirtied our hands in the work of the day:  transplanting fig starters in the garden and processing sweet potatoes in the main kitchen.

Entering the garden, you see the tangible fruit of living at peace with the land - the native red clay is buried well below the surface, under 6-12″ of soft, dark soil, enriched over three decades of cultivation.  When left to natural processes, the earth accumulates one inch of this humus every 500 years; surely these have been 30 years of the Lord’s favor for these plots in northern Georgia.  This land’s bounty surpasses all estimates - this season, Jubilee harvested 6,000 lbs. of sweet potatoes out of 5,000 square feet of garden, and their 1,200+ blueberry bushes bear plenty for Jubilee - fresh, frozen, and in jam - and for their neighbors - around 1,000 invitations are sent out each summer to pick blueberries, free of charge or donation.  “That’s the beauty of always being in debt to other people (Jubilee lives largely off the land and by supporters’ contributions),” Blake, a long-term partner at Jubilee, told me as we walked to the fig plants to cut and pot starters which will also be shared, ”you can never give away too much!”

Back in the kitchen, we scrubbed and chopped, boiled, puréed, and bagged a small percentage of the 3 tons of sweet potatoes harvested this year.  Now, in midwinter (and it’s been a cold one at that - we had days in the teens (Fahrenheit) while we were there!), sweet potatoes are on the menu for most meals.  We consumed the tuber in soup, as fries, in bakes, and in biscuits.  Each was delicious, and only foretaste of our travels to come through the Andes, where potatoes are native, and over 5,000 varieties can be found.  Carefully tended, the land supports the Jubilee community throughout the seasons, along with 80+ chickens, several goats, and two cows, for eggs, meat, and a variety of dairy products.  Their tax is in sweat, withheld by each crop and line-dried shirt; it’s an economy the IRS can’t understand: the good life, below the poverty line.

As I mentioned before, Jubilee Partners also hosts refugees in a village of stand-alone homes called ”The Welcome Center” and teach EFL classes during the week, all free of charge to the refugees, the resettlement agencies, and the federal government.  So last Sunday, when we gathered for the evening meal and worship, 20-30 Karen and Burmese refugees (both from Burma) joined us, including some former Welcome Center guests who are in the process of beginning a “Karen Jubilee Partners” nearby.  The enactment of the simple, yet abundant life appears to be contagious.

When we rolled back down the lane in the pre-dawn dark Tuesday morning, bound for Atlanta, the farm was quiet and the path was lit only by the moon and our own headlights, but another mornings’ work was already beginning - it was time for Rhoda’s milking (that’s the cow).

Clarence Jordan, co-founder of Koinonia Farm, the parent community to Jubilee, described their work in Georgia as trying to live as a ”demonstration plot for the Kingdom of God.”  It seems that this must be the vocation of all Christian communities, regardless of how they organize their community life.  Congregation or farming cooperative, the faithful Body of Christ must proclaim with each sinew, as its Head did, that

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to release the oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:18-19, cf. Isaiah 61:1-2)