As a result of cold mornings, dark evenings, poor air quality for several days due to a local wildfire, and busy weekends, I haven’t gone on many walks or spent much time outdoors this month. So I’m going to mix things up a bit and share some of what I’ve been reading lately.
For years, my sister has been trying to get me to read Evicted by Matthew Desmond, and this November I finally did. Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City is a Pulitzer-prize winning account of the housing crisis in America through the eyes of a handful of individuals and families living in Milwaukee in 2008 and 2009. Almost every scene in the book was witnessed firsthand by the author, and I’ve never read anything that was so exhaustively footnoted while remaining focused on people’s stories and preserving the immediacy of their experiences.
I can’t exactly say that I “enjoyed” Evicted—it is a heavy and often tragic read. It is hard to reckon with the fact that calling 911 for domestic abuse can get women evicted, that families with children are more likely to be turned down for housing and more likely to be evicted from their homes (despite such discrimination being illegal), and that landlords are often making their greatest profits from tenants who live in the worst conditions.
But it feels really important to be aware of the realities that exist in our communities. I am grateful that Evicted allowed me to be a witness to the struggles and suffering (and also the strength and courage) of people who, for various reasons, are often invisible to us.
Reflecting on how foundational secure housing is to the rest of life, Matthew Desmond writes, “Civic life . . . begins at home, allowing us to plant roots and take ownership over our community, participate in local politics, and reach out to neighbors in a spirit of solidarity and generosity.”1 Without good soil in which to plant our roots, we cannot grow or bear fruit to nourish others. But with a home to provide a sense of belonging and stability, we have a greater ability to extend our attention and care outward to our communities.
Desmond continues, “It is only after we begin to see a street as our street, a public park as our park, a school as our school, that we can become engaged citizens, dedicating our time and resources for worthwhile causes: joining the Neighborhood Watch, volunteering to beautify a playground, or running for school board.”2 Feeling like we belong to our place gives us the desire and the ability to care for it and invest in it.
The same can be said of people. It is only after we begin to see the people around us as our neighbors that we take the time and energy to invest in relationships with them, to care about what they care about, to work to make their lives better. And as Jesus taught, learning to see other people as our neighbors isn’t just a civic duty; it is also a spiritual one.3
Those of us who feel more or less at home in our places and communities, then, have a responsibility to look outward and consider how we might steward what we have been given. Maybe we can start by learning the names of the plants in our yard or the local park. Maybe that will gradually lead us to greater concern for the way we treat our earth, or for the ability of children to have access to beautiful outdoor spaces.
Maybe we can start by learning the names of some of the people we rub shoulders with in our everyday lives. Maybe the effort to turn the vaguely familiar faces of not-even-acquaintances into the faces of neighbors will gradually lead to opportunities to offer encouragement, or to give (or receive) help.
I’ll be the first to admit that this doesn’t come naturally to me. (I am much more comfortable around plants than people I don’t know.) But over the past year and a half, I’ve been given lots of opportunities to expand my definition of who is my neighbor, to pay attention to the people God has placed around me, and to serve the community that I’m so thankful to live in. I’ve also been surrounded by many people who are good at this and who are investing in my community in ways that deeply encourage and challenge me. Reading Evicted and realizing again how much I’ve been given in this place and in these people makes me want to keep growing in neighborliness.
Evicted, p. 294.
Evicted, p. 294.
See Luke 10:25–37 for the parable Jesus tells when someone asks him, “Who is my neighbor?”
I have not read Evicted yet. Thank you for the insight. It sounds like a must read.
Very cool Jenna, the best part is that you’re not alone in your efforts.