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Rescue the Children

What little coverage main stream media has provided would lead you to believe that the Jungle camp in Calais France is demolished and the refugees moves safely to other locations where their paperwork can be processed more quickly.

The camp is not emptied. About 1,500 unaccompanied youth ages 10-17 were left behind, placed in containers while their future is determined by feuding government ministers in England and France. Each country wants the other to take responsibility for more of the youth, and because they are not able to come to agreement, the youth are caught in the middle of the struggle. Conditions are very poor.

Water has been turned off to the container site.
Rain has turned the campsite into a swamp
Large construction vehicles are still demolishing the camp while unattended youth are free to ride their bikes in and around the machines. Anyone who has raised young children-especially boys-know that is an irresistible temptation and a disaster waiting to happen.
Charities are trying to feed the youth but are hampered by the lack of on-site facilities and very limited access due to the limited number of passes issued by the Prefecture of Calais.
Human rights attorneys are denied access because the limited number of passes were offered to charities and journalists only.

Each country has responsibilities as signatories to the UN Convention on the Rights of a Child, and neither country is living up to those most basic responsibilities.

Francois Hollande said that the youth would be moved to more suitable conditions soon, but they have been sleeping, some outdoors, since last Wednesday.

Brother Johannes reports that at least two youth he is aware of have attempted suicide over the weekend.

These children have suffered war in their home nations, grueling, dangerous travel to Calais and are now abandoned in a desolate area with no services. Is this the way civilized nations treat young persons?

Do we want to encourage terrorism, or do we want to meet the needs of these young people so they can re-start their lives in relative peace?

Abolish “Just War” & embrace nonviolence

Back in April, before I renewed blogging, a conference was held at the Vatican at the invitation of the Pontifical Commission for Justice and Peace, to consider putting aside the Church’s teachings on just war. The belief of many is that in today’s world, no war can be just. Nonviolence is more consistent with the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels and is considered by some the next step in the development of Papal teachings initiated when St. John XXIII wrote Pacem in Terris in 1963.

The 80 or so church officials, theologians and activists from many troubled parts of the world met for three days to discuss the theory and practice of nonviolence. At the end of the conference, they issued “An Appeal to the Catholic Church to Re-Commit to the Centrality of Gospel Nonviolence.“

I encourage you to read the two-page document and consider its recommendations.

“The time has come for our Church to be a living witness and to invest far greater human and financial resources in promoting a spirituality and practice of active nonviolence and in forming and training our Catholic communities in effective nonviolent practices.”

Our experience at the refugee camp at Calais was an immersion in our common humanity. Understanding and accepting our unity is the basis for nonviolence. We can no longer wish harm to anyone. Some people may do bad things, but all are offspring of the same Divine author of life.

Now we all have an opportunity to affirm the findings of the conference on nonviolence and just peace and to urge Church leaders to act on its recommendations. A website has been created where you can sign up as an organization or as an individual to affirm the statement by the conference.

Even if you do not understand nonviolence or think it is too passive in the face of injustice (not at all true) this is a chance to ask church leaders to immerse themselves in understanding nonviolence and to pass on that understanding to others.

When we come to believe that everyone on earth is our sister or brother, we will be on our way to ending war and the tragedies it creates.

Nonviolence means avoiding
not only external violence
but also internal violence of spirit.
You not only refuse to shoot a man,
but you refuse to hate him.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

A reader’s questions about Calais

A thoughtful reader posed some questions to an early post and rather than respond to the comment only, I thought I it might be helpful to express my thoughts here. A similar discussion came up with other volunteers in a tent in the Jungle during the same week.

How are you able to reconcile these intense, emotional interpersonal interactions with the fact that you may/must return to a privileged life while your new friends must stay there with little hope for the future? What has your being there left behind for them? What had your being there left with you as you return?

The decision to go to Calais was in part a response to a discernment (a prayerful, Spirit-led consideration of present realities and opportunities to respond) given to our CSJP congregation in the Chapter of 2014. A Chapter gathers as much of the congregation as possible to discern direction for the next six years. Our Chapter Call was a call to the kind of radical hospitality witnessed in the live and ministry of Jesus. Joining in project like the Catholic Worker House in Calais offered us an opportunity to serve, to learn more about the hospitality to which we are called and took into account the fact that our congregation is getting older and starting such a project on our own might be too formidable.

Personally, I chose to go in the hopes of learning how best to live out our chapter call to assist in my work for the congregation and to offer what charitable and pastoral assistance I could to the already progressing project. In early discussions it was made clear that it was important to keep peace within the camp between the different ethnic groups. I hoped that my experiences with and study of nonviolence would be of assistance as well.

The fact that most of my work addresses needed systemic change, I looked forward to being able to do some charitable work, which would need no justification. As reported from the first day in the camp, I found that the tables were turned.

Now that I have returned home there is a natural tension. I wished I could stay longer, the needs are so great but I have responsibilities to my family. I also was physically worn down after a month.

To suggest they are left without hope is not true at all. They are more hopeful than am I. They have traveled across deserts, seas and through outlaw countries to reach Calais. They will not be deterred. As dismal as life in Calais can be, they find it better than what they left behind. Most have great hopes of getting into the UK, despite the increasing difficulties of passing the 20 or so miles from Calais to Dover. Neither I nor they know how long the Jungle will go on. It is hard for me to believe that a “civilized” nation such as France would destroy the camp sending as many of 10,000 persons scattering throughout their countryside. It makes no sense from a humanitarian or a security perspective. Homes must be found for them.

For some in the camp, the hope may be a false hope until or unless the UK does more to welcome these men and women, instead of paying France to keep them out.

A typical dinner at St. Marie Skobtsova House

A great sign of hope are the residents and the work St. Maria Skobtsova house, the Catholic Worker House where we lived. The house residents include some faith based volunteers and refugees assisted by people from the neighborhood under the vision and leadership of Brother Johannes Marteens. Each of the refugees have applied for asylum in France and are taking French lessons 4 days a week. We were all learning to live together despite difference in languages, cultures, personal habits and skin colors. These are among the most caring people I have ever met. They have volunteered their time as translators in hospital visits. I have seen them use their own very limited resources to purchase food and treats for friends in the hospital. They use their connections and experience from being in the camp to bring to our attention those who need special help. I am delighted at the opportunity I had to live in that house and to share my life with the people there. Hopefully I have made a contribution to their lives as well.

Americans often look at hospitality as a time to perform or as an inconvenient social necessity. Our lives and agendas are too important to be disrupted. The people of Calais see hospitality as duty, delight and privilege. We have a lot to learn.

The truth is we only have one planet for us all to share. There is no far-off universe or island where these refugees will be sent. The refugees of Calais, and in Syria, and in Turkey on the Southern U.S. border and all over the globe have every right to a safe share of our planetary home as we do. We should all work to be sure they achieve the safety they seek.

I did not return home whole. Part of my heart is still in Calais with the folks in the house and those in the camp. But I came back with a resolve to help all of us understand we cannot wish these people away. Nor can we call ourselves civilized, much less Christian, if we keep them penned up in conditions like those existing in the Jungle.

Coming and Going

Wednesday, Donna Clifford, CSJP-A arrived from Seattle as did Sr. Francois, with three of her colleagues who are Ignatian Sisters from Paris. The sisters will be opening a house a few blocks away in support of Brother Johannes and his work with the refugees.

Omar, a young Iraqi with computer repair skills, who wants to be come Christian moved into the house for a few days on Wednesday.

Thursday, we drove the two Jesuit philosophy students, Oliver and Joakim to the train station so they could return to their studies after a retreat that starts Monday. They had been with us since Sunday.

Now it is my turn to depart. Last night, as has become a tradition in the house they had a cake for me to say good bye. I should have anticipated it and prepared something to say, but as anyone who knows me will understand, I do not like being the center of attention and hoped the moment would pass. But I was genuinely moved by the words from many around the table who thanked me for my service. Even quiet Hussein, my hospital visiting buddy and translator made a speech in English. Several made remarks that were then translated into English for me.

My thoughts and words were genuine, but it also helped deflect the emotions of the moment to talk about how we can continue to work together after I return home. Perhaps leading the bible studies via Skype?

I will not miss the teargas (yesterday afternoon) the absolutely inconsistent police checks every time I was asked to drive into the Jungle, the too small kitchen for preparing meals for 30, which also serves as the crossroads of the house, or the flies.

But some of the best people on earth live in that house, all of us are flawed people to be sure, but willing to love each other in spite of our own weaknesses and the struggles with the work we do together. I will miss each one of them.

I am tired, my back hurts and I have not slept for three nights because of either bed bugs or fleas. (Bed bugs would make this an authentic Catholic Worker experience, wouldn’t it?) So it is time to go. But, as I have warned my bride, I do not return home whole. Part of me will never leave Calais and the beautiful people I have met here.

I hope to return.

Perhaps to celebrate the close of the camp and integration of its beautiful

Sudanese night kitchen gathering with Ibrahim in foreground

residents into our societies.

Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

Letting go

This morning, (Thursday) Richard Rohr’s meditation offers ‘as an absolute statement’: that “all of spirituality is about letting go.” In the first reading for today, Paul tells us to let go of human wisdom and to trust the wisdom of God.

Much of my time is Calais has been about realizing the need to let go of my comforts, my presuppositions and my understanding of the refugee crisis. That crisis has moved from an intellectual one—human wisdom—to a heart-felt one motivated by the simplicity and genuineness of the hospitality shown by Jungle residents. There is no pretense as they invite us into their dwellings for tea or more (if we will accept it.)

Yesterday’s invitation came from Michael, an Eritrean Catholic who attends the Orthodox church with some of his countrymen, but holds firmly to his Catholic faith. Before leaving his home he spent years of his life in government service working on water systems and general plumbing. He invited us into his home where he prepared tea to which he added cloves which he crushed in front of us. He also patiently poured honey out of plastic packets onto pieces of bread for us. He did not waste a drop.

Frank & Donna in Michael's home — Frank & Donna in Michael’s home

Michael is also a lover of nature which he says was created by God for our comfort and sustenance. The modest caravan where he lives with his wife and 8-year-old son had well-watered plants on the tiny counters. When not working his job, he planted over 700 trees in his home town which he had grown from seeds. He was visibly upset as he told of how the new government, a warlord dictator came into the town and closed the schools, ended public services and cut down his trees.

He shared his faith in God, how he hoped God would help him find a permanent home in France where his son could attend school. As he says, “if it is God’s will.” He preached a sermon on today’s first reading: “all belong to you, and you to Christ and Christ to God.” (1 Cor. 3:23) He proudly showed us his well-read bible and pictures of his wife and son. Donna and I shared pictures of our own families.

Donna Taking in the view from Hashemi's deck — Donna taking in the view from Hashemi’s deck

As he shared the difficulty of getting settled, I could not have felt more helpless. So many when they hear I am from the U.S. tell me it is their dream to go there.”If it is God’s will.” I know the doors are closed to them. The Statues of Liberty stands in mockery of her former welcome.

But maybe we can recover our humanity.

I have had to let go of our western notions of civility that have become so many ways to keep ourselves insulated from the marginalized in the world, or from across town. Most Americans, do not care about the refugees, don’t even know the Calais Jungle even exists. “We have our own immigration problems.”

I grieve for us all.

I will also have to let go of my anger, it is too heavy a burden to bring home There is another way… I can carry the stories of the wonderfully simple, truth-filled people I have met, who offered their love to this stranger.

Monday, Monday…

Monday 29 August, started with the return of Johannes from three days in London. We had breakfast, morning prayer and the Monday morning meetings to assign work for the week. After that we had Bible study for the house: Mt. 5 beginning at verse 13.

By the time we headed for the Jungle it was 3 PM. But in even 2 hours in the Jungle you can meet quite an array of persons. I started with a brief chat with a young man whom I had visited on Friday, one who exhibits signs of depression and self-harm. His journey to Calais was particularly difficult as he spent 3 months in a Libyan prison. He told me he survived being fed one piece of bread a day. The lawless Libyan prisons are used to extort money from travelers and their friends back home. He will see a doctor later this week if it can be arranged.

Hussein and I walked along the main street with the shops, and were asked warmly by Hasheemi to enter his shop for tea. We regretfully declined as we were on a mission to take a Sundanese young man to his psychiatric appointment at the Jungle medical unit, a triage unit in a collection of steel containers where France provides on-site medical, gynecological and psychiatric care for Jungle residents in conjunction with MSF (Doctors Without Borders).

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — Door to psychiatrist’s office

We entered the camp compound where the young man lived and someone left to go to the school to fetch him. Over 100 Sudanese live in this small camp area all from the Darfur area. They appear universally concerned for their young friend, and one of the leaders from the compound, a 30-year-old accompanied us to the medical area. We brought the young man to the office where he met the lady doctor and a male translator. They entered the office for a one-hour session together.

While we waited, we met several interesting men. The first, was a seriously muscled Afghan who greeted me in French. When I said “Hello” he thought I knew more French than I was letting on, and thought he would surprise me with his English. We began a conversation which turned into a monologue as he told me how he hated Americans—not the people, just the government and the army. He was a translator for U.S. Army units and for the CIA, but was abandoned in a bad position by them when the Army pulled out. He was forced to leave the country to escape Taliban reprisals but was not welcomed in Germany either. He made his way to Calais where he said life is also terrible. We had some more conversation before Hussein, who had been called away returned to ask if we could help another man sitting at the door of the medical dorm.

This man had been shot 6 days ago in the leg, purportedly by a Kurdish man on the main street in the Jungle. He was very concerned about being released from medical care and back to his tent where he may be found and shot again. He was seeking asylum in France or preferably the UK. I took pictures of his paperwork to show to Alexa and perhaps we can arrange a meeting for him with the Secours Catholique legal team. I promised to look in on him Tuesday.

While talking to him a van pulled up transporting Jungle residents from the main hospital. Sitting in the front seat with a big smile was Ali, an Afghan we had been visiting in the hospital since I arrived here. He was released to the on-site medical unit. We embraced and his smile was as big as I have seen. He still has a crutch to support him with his rebuilt hip but was moving pretty well over the sandy terrain. We will continue to work with him on his legal issues.

As we waited for the young Sudanese to finish his appointment, we saw Anissa, a young Iranian woman from London who was staying in our house for the weekend. She had gone to the hospital to pick up an 18-year-old who had an epileptic seizure and was found on the roadway Sunday. After an overnight in the hospital, they needed his bed. He was brought to the Jungle medical unit where he was to be given the medicine he needed. The medical team at the PASS unit knew nothing of his case, had no such medicine on-site and did not have a bed for him. Anissa reported just after picking him up, he passed out again. Anissa had to leave the Jungle, find a pharmacy to get the man the medicine he needed for the night and get him to his tent.

After his appointment, we walked the young Sudanese man back to his compound and trekked over the paths through the grass where the south camp used to be, headed to the church where our van was parked.

From there I dropped people at the house, went food shopping and made dinner for 14 with the help of Ibrahim. Then home to rest an increasingly aching back.

Donna arrives this afternoon, the third CSJP to serve the Jungle. We’ll have a few days together before I leave here Friday afternoon for home.

I should note, that for reasons of privacy and out of growing respect, I am reluctant to take or show some pictures of those I describe in posts like this. I also find it increasingly difficult to ask for permissions for photos, not willing to interrupt the conversations we are having.

Several degrees of hot

A Sudanese man was found dead in the brush at the Jungle after violence Sunday and Monday evenings. May he rest in peace.

Sheena was part of a team this morning who went to help part of the Sudanese community who identified one of their members as exhibiting mental illness. The Jungle hospital (P.A.S.S.) unit has help available but in such a tension filled environment, where it is difficult to know who to trust, convincing anyone to seek help is the challenge. Thankfully, the session went well and Sheena accompanied the young man to the P.A.S.S. unit where he met with a psychiatrist and received preliminary diagnosis. He has another appointment on Saturday. Additional cases of mental illness are being identified throughout the camp and creating a team who can help connect those in need with services available is an important step forward.

Wednesday’s visits to the Jungle was conducted in extreme heat. Everyone was looking for shade and little is to be found. The “Dunes” area where the Jungle is located is on the coast. The Jungle is essentially a large sandy beach-like area with shoulder-high grasses in the areas where the South camp once existed. The whole camp area is treeless. The internet truck, usually a hot spot for communication, surrounded by refugees had only a few standing on the shady side of the truck, or laying under it. The women running the free tea wagon were taking turns out of the van because the heat was too intense. The weather here is rarely ever that hot.

Water stations, located throughout the camp area were liberally attended as people washed up, washed clothes and filled water containers.

We even declined tea in the Welcome Restaurant because it was too hot for tea.

Add to this the growing tensions in the camp and surrounding the camp in the local community and you have a dangerous mix. Nevertheless, we walked freely through several parts of the camp I had yet to see, usually receiving warm greetings and some offers of tea.

Sheena's Last Supper in Calais — Sheena’s Last Supper in Calais

We had another wonderful dinner prepared by Sheena, for house members and those who come for Farsi Prayer night. We pray every night for the residents of the camp. We pray for peace.

We closed with cake in the evening to celebrate Sr. Sheena’s service here. She will be missed.

Sammy

Monday, Sr. Sheena and I went back to a Sudanese tent we visited on Thursday. They had asked for some shoes so we brought a few pairs. Many are barefoot or wearing flip flops in the Jungle which has pathways strewn with broken glass and nails.

When we walked in we saw a younger looking guy we had not met sitting in a chair sporting a hat that said “Paris, the Pride of France. It looked brand new and still had a sticker on it. He was introduced as Sammy, and was reluctant to speak because he had little capability in French or English. Sammy is 16 years old and had just arrived in the camp the evening after we last left. None of the men in the tent (which sleeps 25) knew him, but they made room for him and a fellow 16 year old who also recently arrived.

Sammy was wearing a pair of croc-like rubber shoes that looked like they had walked from Sudan, through Egypt to Libya, then from Italy to Calais. We opened our bag and gave him a pair of size 41 sneakers…and his face lit up when he tried them on and he saw they fit. We also welcomed him with chocolates which we also gave to each of the men. Again, we shared where we came from and there were dreamy eyes and thoughts of America, a land they see as far beyond their reach but a place beyond their dreams.

In the discussion I shared that most Americans do not even know that the Jungles exists. And if any do, they think it is full of Syrians which it is not. These Sudanese are determined to get to the UK one way or another.

You have to consider what courage it took and what a push there was behind them to make two sixteen year olds from different parts of the Sudan to leave their families and homeland to try and reach the UK. Sammy has an uncle in the UK. But the only address he has is London. We are told that the families will give up their lives and fortunes to send a child away to start anew. Such is the violence, despair and death in Sudan.

The refugees have as utopian a view of England as they have of the United States. They do not realize that with the exception of a few communities they will be no more welcome there than they are here in Calais.

Yesterday, the Prefecture (administrator) of Calais declared there can be no more tents erected in the Jungle, and no more building. These Sudanese we visited just completed construction of a new house in their “compound.” The one we were sitting in will become a common kitchen and sitting area while the new structure will be for sleeping. Since Thursday my untrained eye noticed at least 15 tents that were new. There are people who left Syria, Sudan, Afghanistan or Iran 2-3 or 4 months ago with the hope of coming to Calais. They are determined; and I do not see how they will be turned away.

You can see why there is a constant tension in the Jungle. Violence breaks out some evenings usually after we have left and the fighting has been fairly limited. If the authorities continue to provoke the residents of the Jungle it is not hard to imagine more trouble may come.

Yesterday was also the Feast day of the Queenship of Mary. The Ethiopian and Eritrean church celebrates that feast after 12 days of fasting. We came to the church are near the end of our day and were given a plate of food immediately. “Eat! And celebrate with us!” Solomon, a lay church leader continued; “We want to celebrate in a real way, the right way, with a proper feast when we get to the UK, not with the little we have now.”

Faith has such power.

P.S. Sammy asked that his picture not be taken. The photos above are some of his tent mates.

Week #2 odds and ends

View from hospital looking north to the Jungle

Thursday morning I was challenged by a police officer at the entrance to the Jungle. I have presented my driver’s license to the police, probably 40 times before that morning. But the officer today told me I am not allowed to drive in France on a New Jersey driver’s license. I was told I needed an International Driver’s Permit. According to the State Department, U.S. licenses are usually acceptable in Europe—I used mine to rent a car in Scotland in October of 2015—but apparently not when driving into the Jungle to spend time with refugees.

The good news is spat over the license was enough to distract so that when a replacement driver was summoned, the gendarmes did not check the back of the van to see we had a generator and fuel we were delivering to the church.

Overnight I hosted a Sudanese couple in the studio apt. where I have stayed since arriving. She is 8 months pregnant. The gynecologist told me she would be picked up in the morning for more tests. The husband told me they would come at 10:30. That would be close but I should still make the 11 AM Bible Study class I was asked to present. At 12:30 PM the doctor called to say she would be “a little late.” Thankfully, Sheena came to be with them so I could start the class. We all had a late start on Friday.

It was also my turn to cook on Friday. I did a vegetarian lasagna, without lasagna noodles, just using pasta layered with eggplant, mozzarella, and zucchini. It was baked in a large baking dish Johannes and I bought at a second hand shop for 8 Euros.

Saturday started slowly. Actually most of life here is much slower than at home. There are no 4 AM wake up calls here. Morning prayer in French is 8:15 but we have silence in the house until after morning prayer in English which starts at 9:15. Then breakfast. No one seems to stir in the Jungle until 11. The fast paced life and long days of our first week here are fading memories. But here, that can change in a minute.

Sheena, Babak, Hussein and I visited the hospital on Saturday. We brought clean clothes to some, and candies to all. The patients seem to appreciate our regular visits now. I teamed up with Babak again and only saw two men. The third was in a different hospital for a few days.

Babak is especially helpful because of his own experience as he discusses the medical progress of the guys and helps them understand the process of obtaining status either in France or the UK. There is little we can do here about status in the UK, but agencies we work with like Secours Catholique can help with the legal work in France.

On to week 3.

Living Together

This morning’s reading was from 1 Corinthians 12: 12-20. (see below for the text) All parts of the body, being different yet working together. I cannot help but think of the living situation here in Calais. Perhaps you like me, wonder how so many people, different ages, different languages, different cultures can get along and live together. Keep wondering!!!

Since I’ve been here we’ve had the following living in the house:

Brother Johannes a monk from Holland, the house Master speaking Dutch, French and English

Maria from Romania, speaking Romanian, French and English with an enchanting voice. MAria moved on to Taize for retreat time…

Babak, Ali and Moein from Iran, speaking Farsi and English and Babak speaks French as well. Babak and Ali make movies…

Alexandra, a Scotch born French woman with a law background, (English and French)

Julie is also French with some English, she has left and hopes to return

Hussein, an Egyptian Arabic with some English

Young David, a Sudanese left trying to get to England. He may return.

Ibrahim from Syria, an Arabic speaker who is working hard on his French and works even harder at making us laugh

Hussein is a 17 year old from Egypt who speaks Arabic

Abdullah is from Sudan and speaks English very well as well as his native Arabic

Sr. Sheena, Mark and Avinash are originally from India and speak English and Hindi. Avinash also speaks French,

and then there is me, limited to English, although I understand a little French.

We gather every Monday morning after morning prayer and breakfast to assign or volunteer for the week’s work assignments in the house. Most get done.

Key assignments are cooking, cleaning up after dinner and other chores like cleaning bathrooms, floors and the refrigerator. Someone is assigned to house duty every day so the house is never unattended and there is someone assigned to welcome those who come to the door. S/he also has responsibilities of making sure bed linens are changed so beds are available as people move out and in.

The house also hosts a Farsi/English evening prayer one night a week (tonight’s prayer service lasted an hour!) Farsi and French lessons during the week along with many unscheduled and serendipitous gatherings. Basically half of us are basically volunteers who have come to help in the Jungle, and the other half are refugees who formerly lived in the Jungle and now live in Marie Skobtsova house as volunteers or as folks recovering from injuries or illness.

I have not discerned any bickering because people are not carrying their share of the load. Quite the opposite, there are many helpers for those who have task assigned to them. Yes, there was tension today because recycling bins were not loaded properly and the dirt (garbage) was not picked up today. But when the muttering started I heard an effort to get this right, not to blame someone for doing it wrong.

It is a privilege to live in a community like this, if even for a month. I’ve had my share of community experiences but there is only one that even comes close to what we are living here. That one was Camp Fatima, and we knew where that led. (Hi honey!)

Text for 1 Cor. 12:12-20:

¹²For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. ¹³For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

¹⁴Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. ¹⁵If the foot would say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. ¹⁶And if the ear would say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. ¹⁷If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? ¹⁸But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. ¹⁹If all were a single member, where would the body be? ²⁰As it is, there are many members, yet one body. ²¹The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” ²²On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, ²³and those members of the body that we think less honorable we clothe with greater honor, and our less respectable members are treated with greater respect; ²⁴whereas our more respectable members do not need this. But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, ²⁵that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. ²⁶If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.