Keeping the Dream Alive. Jeanne C. DeFazio

social inclusion strategy. In the study and appreciation of art there is more than one right answer. Students who are allowed to view art as a group have the opportunity to appreciate and enjoy each other and art—“that’s social inclusion at its best.”4 I want to extend my gratitude for the support of Harvard professor Dr. Ali Asani, and Adam Middleton, The Harvard Semitic Museum coordinator, who allowed me to bring students to The Harvard Semitic Museum as part of EMA’s cultural studies program.

      Julia C. Davis

      Telephone: [phone] Email: [email protected]

      Olga Soler

      I had the honor to publish Harriet’s memoirs, Apocalypse of Youth. I want to encourage readers to get the book on Amazon and to read more about Harriet’s inspiring life. I am participating in this dialogue to identify art as an antidote for loneliness and depression. Madeline R. Vann, MPH, in her article “Dealing with Depression and Loneliness,” explains:

      Everyone feels lonely from time to time, but for some, loneliness comes far too often. Feeling lonely can plague many people, including the elderly, people who are isolated, and those with depression, with symptoms such as sadness, isolation, and withdrawal.5

      In Creative Ways to Build Christian Community, I described an art event that promoted inclusion and was a lot of fun!

      We had a techno event at the arts place one night that was a great example of these points. It was the night before Easter Sunday, and we wanted to do a resurrection theme. Our theater had all black walls and an all-black ceiling, as many theaters do. We placed a slab on a desk and put it on the stage. We placed ultraviolet lights everywhere. The music started. As people came in, we asked them to take some chalk and draw their idea of angels on the walls. These were illuminated by the black light, giving them an otherworldly effect. We had other people working on a mural which depicted the opening of a cave with a view of the dawn in it. We lit the installation so that the light appeared to be entering in from outside the cave. An installation is a sculpture that takes up a whole area, sort of like an artistic biosphere. On the slab we had other people building a man. They stuffed clothes till we had the shape of a man and then wound bandages around him. The bandages were of a white shiny material that caught the light nicely. After we wound him like a mummy, we took the tail of all the bandages and draped them over the pipes on the ceiling. It gave them the appearance of floating in the air, as if they were coming off of the body by themselves. We then strewed red roses all over the installation, and along with the floating bandages we had chains that were also sort of floating off of the body. The people did not know what they were doing or why, but those of us who were believers had the opportunity to speak to them a little here and there as we worked. We were instructed not to talk too much. The piece spoke for itself. We called it moments before dawn on the 1st day. The dead man was, of course, Christ, and the bandages and chains were falling off of him because death was leaving him as the resurrection began to take place. The roses were symbols of the love that made it all possible. When it was all over, everyone found themselves in the middle of the tomb with Christ about to rise from the dead. The anticipation was palpable. Was this all too weird for people to understand? We heard one not yet believing girl remark as she stared at the finished work, Oh poor, poor Jesus! The message was obviously hitting the mark with her and with others.6

      This event was social inclusion at its best. I want to encourage readers to use art activities to inform, promote inclusion, prevent loneliness and depression, and for fun!

      Olga Soler

      Email: [email protected]

      Dr. Martha Reyes

      I met Harriet Lorence Nesbitt in the 1980s when I was a guest speaker at one of the Reverend Robert Rieth’s Media Fellowship International luncheons in New York City.7 I hold a doctorate in clinical psychology and I am the founder of Hosanna Foundation, which offers counseling, support groups, and courses on depression, married life, self-esteem, women and their families, victims of abuse, violence, and addictions.

      As I shared in my chapter “Healing Through Faith and Compassion,” in Redeeming the Screens:

      Make no mistake, I have not only been one of the healers, I have also been broken and in need of healing myself. But I have also discovered the virtue of undeserved brokenness and the power of the wounded healer. That is the greatest gift of love: not giving leftovers for care but breaking our own bread and our own life in smaller parts to share with those who have nothing (e.g., as Phil 1:13-14, Paul the Apostle notes that, because of his chains, others have been encouraged and blessed). I guess during different stages in my life, I have played the role of every character in the Good Samaritan parable (except the bandits!) because, before I felt God’s calling in my life, I was also disconnected and dissociated from other people’s needs. Just like the indifferent ones in the Jesus’s parable and, as myself in the past, there are many today who feel overexposed to the world’s pain, so they become disconnected, blind, and deaf. We are tempted to say that it is not our doing or responsibility, but someone else’s. We have no time for it. Or, we react only when it hits home in our own lives. I guess I have answered my own question of why all these advanced human accomplishments have not taken care of the world’s urgent needs: because they are not always managed by compassionate, burdened hearts. To make a difference, we need to share everything unconditionally and freely, to be willing to invest our own lives in the process of healing. Imagine the tremendous power and potential if together we could link the wealth of knowledge and resources of this day and age with the most compassionate givers and healers! Love and its fruit would find no limit. Those three groups of characters in the parable of the Good Samaritan will one day become two. The broken will be healed and become healers. There is no doubt in my mind that everyone can also be made to see with opening eyes, hearts, and arms those who are still in the gutter where they themselves were once found. And, when the question is asked, “Who gave me to eat when I was hungry and to drink when I was thirsty, and who visited me while sick and in prison?” (Matt 25:35-36), don’t you want to hear your name announced, as the Lord, smiling at you, beckons you forward saying, “Come blessed of my Father?” This is the one calling that we all share in common, because ultimately sharing God’s love with compassion will be the only thing that matters.8