The Blue Sweater: A Review

The Blue Sweater: A Review

The Blue Sweater: Bridging the Gap Between Rich and Poor in an Interconnected World

I will begin this review by asking you to close your eyes and imagine I am a) someone of great influence in your life who is b) standing in front of you c) with a book in my hand d) entitled The Blue Sweater, and e) telling you to "Read It." You should read it. Really.

What Novogratz has done here is created an honest account of her struggle with the "questions about justice and compassion, power and money, and the randomness of where we are born and how much that determines who we become." More importantly, she has allowed us a deep look into her experience working with the poorest people on this planet - a journey far more insightful than any how-to-end-poverty-in-one-generation manual. She boldly faces the failures of traditional charity while creating hope in a system of giving that is implicit in its creation of dignity.

Likewise, Novogratz confronts the systems that disallow the success of honest entrepreneurship, be it governmental corruption, traditions that subjugate women, or inert religion. One comment about the Rwandan genocide that destroyed so much of her work and so many lives in that country should be a warning about the distortion of faith;

Religion had played such a tragic, disappointing role: When thousands of people had fled to the churches for safety, they found not sanctuaries, but killing fields. Some priests and nuns became modern Judases, and the masses, previously so beholden to authority, ensured that neither house of God nor shrine was sacred.

In another experience, she is forced to confront the pitfalls of the very system she is trying to create. While working in the Mississippi Delta, Novogratz realized "how easily capitalism can be manipulated to oppress the most vulnerable." This led her to understanding that "good public policy must accompany market-oriented solutions that are undergirded with an imperative of moral leadership."

But these lessons aside, it is the amazing optimism coursing throughout the pages of The Blue Sweater that leaves the most indelible impression. It is this theme of Hope that makes this book a "must read" and it's story of redemption that makes it remarkable. Or, as so aptly stated by a survivor of the Rwandan genocide:

In the end, goodness triumphs over the bad. It is our challenge to do good and to serve others without waiting for the good to be returned. I am convinced that those people cultivate universal love will have good fortune on earth. In serving others, I found light in a place of utmost darkness."

You should read it. Really.

Justice vs. Compassion and Mercy

We (my coworkers at Amor Ministries and I) have been feeling the sting of what we construe is the place where compassion dies. That is probably an unfair statement, but it seems the most accurate in the moment of hurt. What I mean is we have suffered the consequences of others' choices to prioritize "something" (most likely intangible and probably an illusion) to such an extent that a specific act of compassion is no longer feasible.

The biggest culprit has been a desire for safety (again - an illusion). While I applaud a parents decision to keep their child safe, I absolutely disagree with any church's decision to not boldly reach into the deep, dark and dangerous places because of fear. Choosing safety over Christian compassion is putting one's agenda before God's.

This occurred to me in a different, yet no less stark, manner recently.

Those who follow current events will know that the Lockerbie bomber, Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi - the only person convicted of the murder of 270 people on Pan Am flight 103, has returned home to Libya after being freed from prison. Kenny MacAskill, Scotland's Cabinet Secretary for Justice, released Megrahi on compassionate grounds because he has terminal prostate cancer and is not expected to live long.

The decision by Mr. MacAskill to demonstrate such compassion has drawn sever criticism from most western governments (including our own) and condemnation from those who remember that terrible day. Not being the most compassionate person, I too found myself sitting squarely in the "miscarriage-of-justice-and-insult-to those-who-lost-loved-ones" camp. Yet my view on the matter became much less clear upon reading MacAskill's extremely well-crafted statement about how he came to the decision:

[He] did not show his victims any comfort or compassion. They were not allowed to return to the bosom of their families to see out their lives, let alone their dying days. No compassion was shown by him to them. But, that alone is not a reason for us to deny compassion to him and his family in his final days.

Our justice system demands that judgment be imposed but compassion be available. Our beliefs dictate that justice be served, but mercy be shown. Compassion and mercy are about upholding the beliefs that we seek to live by, remaining true to our values as a people. No matter the severity of the provocation or the atrocity perpetrated.

Is this indeed a travesty, or is it a quiet victory of compassion and humanity? What does this look like when viewed through the lens of "loving [our] enemies," and "blessing those who persecute [us]?" I understand this is an easy question for me to ask. I knew none involved in the bombing and was barely old enough to grasp the magnitude of the tragedy when it happened. Yet I cannot shake the notion that this man's release was an incredible act of true compassion. And it occurred to me that the church could learn much from this.