Poverty becomes a crime in 21st century America
On a train trip from Seattle in October, we passed by homeless camps located near the railroad tracks. One was nestled in trees and protected from sight. But along the Willamette River in Portland, I spotted a few tents out in the open at the end of an overpass. Why don’t they camp under the shelter? I wondered, until I saw the reason.
Apparently,
the city, or the state department of transportation, had evicted campers from
the sheltered space below the overpass and filled it with large sharp rocks. Is
this how we solve our “homeless problem” in the 21st century?
This sad scene took me back to the early 1990s in Sonoma County, California. Dozens of Mexican farmworkers, mostly from Oaxaca, had arrived to harvest the famed Alexander Valley wine grapes. With no inexpensive places to rent, the workers camped under a bridge approach to eat, sleep, and bathe in the river. News media came to report from the scene and local organizations offered help to the families. The following year, the area was fenced off.
It’s uncomfortable for those with a roof over our heads to gaze upon our brothers and sisters who lack this basic necessity. Many are working or surviving on some kind of government check, but lack enough income or savings to rent a house or apartment. When local officials order these campers to move, they are depriving people of even the most humble shelter. Why can’t a town bring out trash cans, portable toilets, and social workers to help the campers with their most pressing needs?
I call it the “criminalization of poverty” and it happens on a larger scale on our border with Mexico. People escaping violence or near-starvation in their home countries, who come to work in the United States, are branded as “illegals.” Most are too poor to obtain the right documents to cross legally.
Our country needs people willing to work at entry-level jobs and perform the hard labor of agriculture and construction, jobs even our teenagers don’t want. So why is our government so eager to deport or lock up these migrating people?
In Matthew 25:40, Jesus says to his disciples, “Whatever you did to the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did also unto me.”
This sad scene took me back to the early 1990s in Sonoma County, California. Dozens of Mexican farmworkers, mostly from Oaxaca, had arrived to harvest the famed Alexander Valley wine grapes. With no inexpensive places to rent, the workers camped under a bridge approach to eat, sleep, and bathe in the river. News media came to report from the scene and local organizations offered help to the families. The following year, the area was fenced off.
It’s uncomfortable for those with a roof over our heads to gaze upon our brothers and sisters who lack this basic necessity. Many are working or surviving on some kind of government check, but lack enough income or savings to rent a house or apartment. When local officials order these campers to move, they are depriving people of even the most humble shelter. Why can’t a town bring out trash cans, portable toilets, and social workers to help the campers with their most pressing needs?
I call it the “criminalization of poverty” and it happens on a larger scale on our border with Mexico. People escaping violence or near-starvation in their home countries, who come to work in the United States, are branded as “illegals.” Most are too poor to obtain the right documents to cross legally.
Our country needs people willing to work at entry-level jobs and perform the hard labor of agriculture and construction, jobs even our teenagers don’t want. So why is our government so eager to deport or lock up these migrating people?
In Matthew 25:40, Jesus says to his disciples, “Whatever you did to the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did also unto me.”
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