A Beautiful Soul

A Powerful Scream

There are a few people in each of our lives that leave such a mark that our lives becomes defined by their presence in it. The moments we spend in their presence prepare us for the battles that still lay ahead and heal our wounds from the wars we have already fought. The love they show us isn't earned, it never could be, and yet these beautiful souls show us love in a way we are hard pressed to find anywhere else. With just a few kind words they can alter the course of a day, change our moods for weeks, and lift our eyes to the future that rest just over the horizon. 

In the lives of those who work here at Alder's Ledge there is one such soul that we all cherish deeply. Her story is one that has touched us all in ways we could have never prepared ourselves for. Her actions, her words, and the way she looks at each new day are all a light that guides us. Because she has always been there for us in our times of need. She has always offered us comfort when we felt like giving up. And she never ask for anything in return. 

Each of us at Alder's Ledge have come to a point over these past few months where we have felt like we wanted to quite and just walk away. For me personally it has been a war between ending what I started and pushing past old scars. A sense of guilt for the seemingly selfishness of it all only made things worse. Yet there she was... ready to start our next chapter, together. Ready to fight the next battle right by my side even as I tried to push everyone else away. And yet there she was, my little sister.

So we are all still here...

And we are getting back to work...

But we all owe this to one beautiful soul with one powerful scream.

The Heart Of A Screamer

"...and if any one saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of the whole people."

~The Holy Qur'an 

Several years ago I had the good fortune of meeting a young girl who's story never seemed to match the light that still shown in her eyes. When our mutual friend introduced us she had told me that this young girl had the heart of a screamer. At the time I thought being a screamer meant being loud and relentless... both of which I may still be. Yet here was a young lady who had suffered throughout her childhood some of the worst offenses anyone could imagine. And she saw the act of screaming in a way that would redefine it for all of us. 

Little sister may have grown up a Buddhist, like most people in her part of the world, yet the first thing she wanted me to know was her favorite verse from the Qur'an. I had asked her what "screaming" meant to her. That was all I had asked. And the answer was that quote from the Qur'an. She looked me in the eye and smiled as she quoted it. That smile that burns an impression on the soul itself with it's unique sincerity. 

Maybe it's the lack of such sincerity in the world today that makes her heart for the whole of mankind so refreshing. Maybe it's the beauty in her eyes when she smiles while helping others that lights up the staff at Alder's Ledge. For me it's just the love that we see radiate from her that changed everything about how Alder's Ledge operated. 

When we started we had a stern focus on the Holocaust and the Armenian Genocide. As funny as that is to realize looking back, seeing as how we started with one Jew (me) and not a single Armenian on staff... Yet looking back it is clear to see that we had a very narrow mission statement, to say the least. 

Then came our little sister...

All she had to do was introduce us to her story of how she was trafficked as a kid and we all changed how we screamed. Suddenly we started screaming about human trafficking because it had touched us personally. We wanted to partner with this amazing young woman who had already begun to change us in ways we hadn't even fully begun to realize. It's funny how that works when you meet someone like this... when they enter your life and start to change things you felt would never change. All she had to do was be the same wonderful woman she has always been. And in just doing that she was inspiring us all just by letting us see her gentle spirit... her love for others. 

We started talking about other genocides more and more. What one of us didn't know another would chip in and help teach us all. And for the most part our educations, all we had read over the years, and all we had learned from each other seemed to be missing one thing... something that is vital to screaming... 

A personal connection. 

A relationship with the people we so often looked at the "victims" or the subject of the conversation. It was this part that our little sister helped us with all those years ago. And still does on a daily basis. 

For me that lesson was made most evident by simply watching my beloved sister as she took it from just words and applied it in actions each day. I had always known that she took food, medicine, and other basic needs to street kids and prostitutes. What inspired me was knowing that she did so out of what little money she had. Here was a someone who had never had any money of her own all her life and was now able to earn some that she got to keep. But instead of doing what all the people her age do here where I live, she took that money sought to meet the needs of others before bothering with the things she might want for herself. 

When you see that, when you have a bond to someone like that, it makes you look at your own life differently. It makes it hard to tell yourself that you can't live without that next cup of coffee from the chain store or that next phone upgrade. It makes it hard to justify eating out every night or buying yet more clothes that you won't wear much anyway. After all, I'd always had more than I could ever need or really justify wanting. So seeing her selflessness created yet more change in a lot of us at Alder's Ledge.

With just the forming of that relationship our sister we were all growing closer and ever more focused on what it meant to be a "screamer". That one addition to our team all those years ago had created a change that now defines Alder's Ledge. Our relationship with our baby sister has defined who we all are today and how we work as a team. For that we are all thankful... for she is a blessing to each of us each and every day.

What Is A Screamer...

So what is a screamer?

We have always defined a screamer as someone who witnesses or becomes aware of genocide and refuses to remain silent. 

Sounds simple enough. All you have to do then is just get out there and raise hell till someone listens. Just go out there and make  your voice heard as you try to spread awareness of genocide. And yet if it was that easy then it would be far less effective. Because in all reality, nobody is going to listen to you just because you won't stop talking. In our modern world there is always the ability to mute, block, ignore, or un-friend you. People are less likely to listen in our world because all there is anymore is just noise. And if all you are doing is screaming... all you are doing is creating yet more noise. 

A screamer has to be able to make a connection between the genocide itself and the people he/she is trying to reach out to. The relationship between the crime and the witness is one that has to be made personal. It is one that has to be imprinted upon the heart of the witness for it to carry real weight in the daily life of those who are asked to bare witness to such a horrific crime. Otherwise the information given will elicit some sympathy right before it is forgotten and pushed aside. 

A screamer has to be able to view the world beyond the confines of religion, race, or nationality. There is nothing more hindering to reaching out to all of humanity than a world view that only sees people in given groups. This part of screaming means that you may have to admit your own prejudices and work past those views. If you are not able to make a personal connection with others beyond your own given religion, race, or nationality for any reason... your desire to scream will always be limited and that limitation will always be evident to everyone around you. This limitation makes any screaming you might do seem partisan and bias. Which in the end will turn more people away from the information you are trying to spread. 

A screamer must be able to stay committed to the act of screaming itself. Once you start to scream on behalf of any given cause you have to keep the fight up relentlessly. People who are watching you will notice if you start to jump from one cause to the next when things get hard or boring to you. There are countless people out there who will pick up on a "humanitarian cause" because it is the latest trend or a celebrity is preaching it at the time. If you want to scream you can't be seen as doing so because it's trendy. That alone is enough to make any information you are trying to get out there seem questionable. And it makes your sincere desire to help others seem fake in the eyes of those who watch you. 

A screamer has to know when to engage and when to bow out of a fight. Tenacity is good to a certain extent. While a screamer must be relentless, you can't become insensitive to the audience you are trying to reach. If your wording something in such a way that it no longer engages the people you are talking to but rather offends them... that is a moment to bow out and wait try again later. Timing is an art in reaching out to others when it comes to such subjects as genocide. You won't touch their heart if you can't first get past the defenses your audience will always have erected. Their prejudices and world view has to be taken into account before engaging. 

A screamer must have a network of others to help them, to hold them accountable, and to refresh their spirit in times of need. Whether you have other screamers to reach out to or just close friends, this is one of the most important parts of being a screamer. The people like our little sister here at Alder's Ledge make those rough patches easier and more survivable. We have watched countless others throw in the towel because they didn't have anyone else to help them... or refused help when they needed it most. The subjects we are screaming about take a toll on all of us. These subjects hurt emotionally and exhaust the soul. Thus, we all need the support of others to keep up this fight. 

On A Personal Note...

All of us here at Alder's Ledge would like to close this post by thanking our little sister for showing us just what it means to scream.

Thank you dear sister for always being there when we needed your support, your love, and the blessing of your friendship. Thank you for always being willing to listen to our problems and never judging us even when we deserved it. Thank you for always showing us what loving others is supposed to be like. But most of all, thank you for letting us be there when you needed us most... that is a blessing that each of us will forever remember.

In Their Footsteps

Retracing My Roots
Screamers Post

Gates To Hell

All my life I have had a conflicted relationship with the idea of Germany. When I close my eyes and think of that country all I can see are those images of my ancestors... emaciate, tormented, and waiting for the release of death. When I think of the German people I still have a hard time thinking of them as anything in particular. Yet when I think of their country... hate is the only thing that describes it.

Its odd how the legacy of genocide does that...


When I walked toward that crematorium a part of me couldn't help but feel the weight of where I was headed. My soul ached as the thoughts of my family who had made this walk before me rushed through my mind. Though their footsteps had been on Croatian soil, the fact that I was in Germany didn't make the pain any less. I had planned to visit Buchenwald because I felt it would somehow be easier than seeing the place my own family had been sent to die. Yet it wasn't... nothing prepares the heart for that long walk. Nothing prepares the soul for being there. Nothing.

Backtracking...

My family came to America by crossing through Europe till they finally found their way from the old world to the new. They were even poorer than I am now. Yet they did everything they could to make sure that their children and their children's children wouldn't have to live through that hell again. Spending every penny they had, those who could, they got out.

I wasn't born into freedom by chance. There has always been someone before me who fought to keep hope alive. I knew that the moment I boarded that plane and left for Germany. I knew that I was going back to a place my forefathers had struggled to leave. 

Those hills covered in blooming mustard were the things old painters dreamed of. The little villages tucked up along the hillsides with gentle streams all trickling back toward the Moselle River... that was the Germany my family crossed through. They passed those vineyards, those little countryside farms with sprawling pastures, those wooded valleys... none of which they could stop to enjoy. Yet there I was in this land that caused their pilgrimage out of Dalmatia. 

My journey would take me from London, the place that was too full for them to stay, to Germany, the place that had created hell on earth, to the home of my family. It was a short, yet bumpy, journey backwards through time. It was my way of going back to the places that made me who I am today. 

Almost Heaven

I arrived in Croatia in the dead of night. Zadar was only a short drive north of my family's old homeland. Yet the transition from that somewhat flat patch of land to those sacred mountains was evident to me even in the midst of that pitch black night. I felt like I was home in the shadows of those rocky mountainsides. 

Just south of Split I found where home was. Along the edge of the Adriatic, tucked up alongside olive trees and rocky outcroppings, I found where my family had lived all that time ago. Rosemary bushes and sage jutted upward from every spare patch of dirt those boulders of mountains seemed to offer somewhat reluctantly. This was heaven to me... almost. 

That first morning when I put on my tallit and prayed I couldn't help but think of how I was the first one in my family to be back here doing just this... It was a moment when my prayers stopped for just a moment as the reality of it all sat in. It was a moment where all my heart could find no better words to offer my Creator than a simple thank you. 

Walking out onto the balcony I stood there and looked over the sea and let it all sink in. To one side there were those mountains reaching out into the sea like and outstretched arm. To the other side was the sleepy village clinging tightly to the steep drop from the mountain road above us. For all it's beauty, for all the awe that had filled me... the sight of those mountains still reminded me why I was there. 

My family had been taken up into those very mountains. The Ustase had attempted to cleanse all of Dalmatia of it's Jews. Up in those mountains they had taken my ancestors to what could have been the end of my story. Those who didn't die there were sent north to camps. And those who were lucky enough to escape did everything they could to evade death as they walked the line between Bosnia and Croatia. 

I don't know the every detail of where and when the family members that did perish actually fell. The brutality of Croatia's genocide makes some things impossible to know for sure. But I do know the story of those closest to my own bloodline. And those were the stories that came to mind as I stood there looking up into the rocky faces of those mountains. That blood was still, in my mind at least, tainting this place that looked so much like paradise. 

Most of those who had lived here were killed outright. Those capable of making the journey north were later sent to Auschwitz and/or camps in the Ukraine. They weren't seen again. Between what the Ustase had already done and what Germany would do to them, they seemed to disappear into the industrialized death machine Hitler had created across Europe. Their stories are ones I still am searching for to this day. 

The one woman who's blood I still carry to this day did the unthinkable... she fought back. 

Surviving the pogroms, the rape, the torment, the wilderness, and Tito's war of liberation... her blood carried that desire to fight. Her legacy, her stubbornness, her tenacity; all of these things still linger even though she has long since passed away. 

I know I'm here today because when one person had every reason to surrender, every reason to just lay down and accept what seemed like fate, she decided to stand up. I'm here today because her unwillingness to look away from the suffering of her people in their greatest time of need. I'm here because in her darkest hour she decided to hold her head up high and do what she knew was right. 

She lived through things that I don't understand. She did things that I can only hope I would had been strong enough to do if I was in that same situation. She saw things that I'm not sure I could bare to see first hand. And yet here I am today.

Chasing Ghosts

When I left Croatia I knew that the hardest part of this journey was still ahead. I was going back to the Germany. And this time I was going to a place I hated more than anything else. This time I was following in the footsteps of those who stolen from us. This time I felt like I was chasing the ghosts my family had left behind. 

I had told myself that visiting Buchenwald would be different than actually finding the camps where they were taken. It would somehow be better than actually having to stand in those places where they were gassed, where they were worked to death, where their lives were forever extinguished by the hatred that had engulfed this land. Yet the moment I passed through those gates.... that moment when I ran my hand over the tattoo I had gotten to across my wrist to remind me of them... a part of me broke. 

We had walked along the railroad tracks that had carried prisoners into Buchenwald. Every time I blinked I could almost hear the carts rattling as their damned cargo struggled to breathe inside those cramped quarters. I glanced over to the parade grounds where the soon to be dead had once gathered to hear their death sentence. 

I looked to my right and saw the chimney reaching upward into the cloudy sky above. Rain trickled down across my forehead as my hair clung to my cheeks and the back of my neck. I couldn't help but think it was fitting that G-d had given us a rainy day upon which to visit such a wretched place. I almost thanked Him for setting the mood that had already settled over my heart days before. 

Then came the walk I had been dreading. I turned and headed straight for that crematorium. It was the longest walk I have ever taken in my life. What was barely 50 yards away felt like it was in an entirely different world all of it's own. Every step felt like I was going backward. Every heartbeat felt like it was breaking down what little strength I had left. And yet the realization of how many had made this trek before me made it impossible to pause. 

German Citizens Forced To Face

What Was Done In Their Name.

I entered the same way my ancestors would had done all those years ago. The stairwell down into the gas chamber was right there ahead of me. There was no way to mistake this place for showers. In Buchenwald the Germans hadn't tried to fool anyone that was forced to walk down there. This was simply a stairway down into the slaughter house. 

I entered the doors above and first went into the rooms where German doctors had performed experiments and lethal injections. Their tables were designed to catch the blood of their victims so as to make clean-up easier. There were still markings along the wall to measure their victims. The instruments of their torture chambers were still preserved. The methodical way in which the Germans had documented their callous crimes was evident everywhere you looked. 

For me however, this was just my way of easing into what still awaited me down the hallway. Just beyond those rooms sat the entire reason for this building. Rows of furnaces lined one side of that wretched place. These gates to hell were flung wide open for all to see just how the victims were cast away forever. A cart stood there to show how the task of disposing of a corpse was made only slightly easier... so as to speed the process up. 

When I entered that room I froze right there in front of that first furnace. For moments it didn't matter that there were people walking behind and all around me. For those moments all I could see was the open mouth of that tomb where flames had consumed my people. For those moments the world around me seemed alien. The hatred that had led to the creation of this place surrounded me. The stench of it still felt like it permeated that space regardless of how much time had passed. It was as though every soul that had passed through that gateway still cried out... pleading that we never forget. 

I finally found my place in time and the strength to keep walking. 

Down those stairs I went. 

Standing there in that gas chamber I felt like the family I had never known was suddenly fresh in my memory. I might not have been able to say that this was were uncle so and so had perished. But the thought of how many had found themselves in rooms like this was still there. The realization that this country, Germany, had put them in places like this was right there with me in that moment. Looking up at the hooks where their clothes had been hung before the gas was dropped in... I couldn't help but think about them. 

They may have died in camps to the east. This might not have been the room in which they were killed. And they may have very well been placed in open pits and burned in the open air. But this was the most common ending place. And this was the end for me.

A Never Ending Journey...

Walking the grounds of that camp I prayed that G-d would give me some understanding of why... I prayed that I could find some reason as to why this had all happened. I prayed that I could understand why this continues to happen. I prayed for the strength to keep up the fight my ancestors had left burning in my bones. 

It has taken a month of thinking about those prayers to find anything that resembles reconciliation with why I needed that trip. My ancestors may have perished almost an entire generation ago. They all may very well now be history to this world. But the struggle they had been forced into has not become history. That fight continues. And maybe, if only for my sake and the hope of making some sense of all this, just maybe... those who they left behind are the ones who should be fighting hardest. 

Looking toward Syria, Burma, North Korea, and all those darkened parts of our world; I can't help but think that those of us should be following in their footsteps...

Unlike them, however, we don't walk defiantly into the gates of hell this time. Instead we rush toward those killing fields to make sure that the next generation of survivors has a voice... the voice our own ancestors were almost denied. This time we stand between the persecuted and their tormentors. This time we intercede where others had failed to do so when our ancestors needed it most. 

The most astonishing thing you realize when you stand in places like Buchenwald is just how close these killing fields were to houses of common German citizens. The smoke from that chimney would had drifted over the village just downhill from Buchenwald. The people living in the shadow of that camp could not have escaped the reality of what was being done just one the other side of the treeline. 

Today the world has grown smaller. Killing fields are often just on the other side of our computer and television screens. Bosnia and Rwanda happened as the the world watched. We didn't have to have American GIs force us to walk past piles of dead bodies like in Buchenwald. We get nightly updates, we get tweets, we get news broadcasts... the death toll is always there on display. 

Looking toward those killing fields I can't help but think that this journey I've been on doesn't have an end. The legacy my ancestors left for me... this endless fight... that is something that this trip reminded me of most. 

Alder's Ledge takes it's name from my own family's history. We only exists as an organization because of what was done to my ancestors. We are only here because of the fire that burns within my bones... my soul. It is a fire that many of my staff have been given by their own ancestors as well. It is a legacy that we can't turn away from. And all we ask now is that you join us.

Want to know more?

Contact us on twitter: @alders_ledge & @AL_Staff

Letters Home

A Look At Alder's Ledge

For the past several years Alder's Ledge has been pushing ourselves to grow. We struggle for every last inch we gain. We fight for every ear we find willing to listen, to hear our collective scream. It's a war of sorts, and endless battle that saps every last ounce of strength our team has. And yet they, a surprising team of misfits, are relentless... ever passionate... ever willing to take to the cause day after bloody day.

We read articles about atrocities and suffering just as though it were as natural to us as breathing is. Some might look at this as a morbid fixation, a perversion of sorts, and yet for us it is a duty... a calling. Every word we read, every story that crosses our screens, strikes a chord within us. These accounts of others suffering ring in our own history as a team. We all have a past with genocide. We all have a relationship with these topics. And for that we reason we cannot turn away.

Genocide has a way of galvanizing our ranks. It's flames created the reason our main author fights with every ounce of energy left in him. It's cruelty gave birth to the reason our most beloved sister, an anchor for us all, struggles to keep us going even when everything has fallen apart. It's insanity is why the calming voice of the most gentle soul we have amongst us is so refreshing... motivating us when we stumble along. Genocide has a way of creating within our ranks a reason to remain when all the rest have turned away.

This year we started out with only six team members stretched across the globe. There was always someone online. There was always a conversation going on somewhere. And it was in this constant talking that we came to the conclusion that we needed to expand our voice. It was then that we took to Twitter for another outlet to scream.

Most of you who read this are probably from Twitter. And despite our presence there for most of the year being through our main author's account, we are all greatly blessed through getting to know you. We appreciate all the support and encouragement you all have given us over this past year. The ability to scream with people from all walks of life about these topics has been an amazing experience. And for that we always want to say thank you to each and everyone of you.

As a team the experience of expanding has made this past year one we will never forget. We went from six team members to a team of just under two dozen. This of course had every growing pain imaginable and plenty of frustration. But we are all still committed to the same fight... just stronger for all the struggling along the way.

With this expansion in members came a plenty of reasons to expand the reasons for which we scream. With new members came new histories and new personal stories that contentiously leak into the paragraphs that fill our posts. When we started writing about human trafficking we could not help but to include the passion of those amongst our team who lived through it. When we write about child abuse we have no way of filtering out the agony of our members who survived it. And when we write about refugees we speak with the voices of our members who were made to flee or born beyond their homelands' borders. These voices, this collective experience we all now share, are the heart and soul of our little team. These are the driving passions of our members.

At times these passions become so bold that we as a team have had to place warnings of sorts before the main body of given posts. When our soul can't be confined to what might be considered polite, we have tried to warn our readers of the post's content. Not because we are apologetic, but because we are brutally honest.

Yet for all the good this passion does for our team in motivating us it has also driven us to the point to breaking. This year we lost a member who struggled with some of the subjects we cover here. His passing has admittedly left us breathless as our team has struggled to say goodbye. We will never forget his desire to scream relentlessly. We will never forget how his presence amongst us made each and every day we had with him feel like a gift. And most of all, we will never forget how even as the hate mail came pouring in he prayed for those who hated him for how G-d created him. His memory will forever be embedded in all that Alder's Ledge does. His passing will never be forgotten.

As for the year ahead...

As a team we have a long path ahead. We are putting our main author on the road twice in the coming year. And our team mates in Asia are taking our message off the computer and putting it to words.

In China Alder's Ledge is taking to campuses where our members are introducing audio and visual depictions of what it means to be a "screamer". In a country where "the party" has control over most everything (despite appearances) we are pushing the envelope as team members there take risk to spread our message. They are telling their communities about the Rohingya people's plight. They are talking about China's complicity in North Korea's abuses of it's own people. They are talking about ethnic cleansing, genocide, human trafficking, and the need for protests and civil disobedience (if need be) to force change. None of this is popular with those who still believe in China's party line.

As for our main author, the face of Alder's Ledge, the trip down the path starts in England, Germany, and Croatia. Many of our team members will finally meet with the punk that started all this to begin with. And then the path ends in the Philippines or China.

All of this is to spread our message. It isn't a complicated message. It doesn't have many parts to remember. All we ask of those we meet is that they scream.

So what does it mean to scream?

A scream is a violent and desperate act to grab the attention of a deaf world. It is the relentless effort to force a blind world to open it's eyes and look at the suffering of those we fight for. By using our voice we restore a voice to those the world has ignored and left beyond hope's embrace. By screaming we tell the world that there is, if nothing else, a point where we as a people will no longer tolerate the anguish of the forgotten. We will not look away.

A screamer is thus someone who has become aware or witnessed genocide. A screamer is someone who has lost the desire to set on the sidelines while genocide culls the flock laid out before them. A screamer is someone who lets out the battle cry. A screamer is someone who runs toward the sounds of silent cries so that they might use their voice to bring recognition to those hushed voices. A screamer is relentless, remorseless, and tireless. 

We are spreading our voice.

We are screaming.

Now we ask simply, who is with us?

Who will scream for the voiceless?

Who will fight?

Gifts Of The Spirit

Family Isn't Always Flesh And Blood
(The Darkness Visible series)

(Shan Refugees In Koung Jor Shan Refugee Camp)

(Image via Al Jazeera)

This post contains spiritual content that may not match the views of all Alder's Ledge's team members. The views contained here are not meant to evangelize or any given faith over another. The sharing of these views is meant only to challenge the notions of what it means to be a "screamer". These are for illustrative purposes and to help those reading get to know our staff a little better.

Every new year brings people around the world a sense of hope and the promise of a fresh start. We celebrate the passing of the old year as we envision a year of endless possibilities just around the corner. In the West we use champagne and long nights of parties to somewhat drown the sorrows that had come our way and forget the pain of the past year. Yet for refugees around the world there is no such relief. The sting of a endless years of sorrow has a way of blurring the line between one year and the next.

The Shan people who comprise the Koung Jor refugee camp, just north of Chiang Mai, Thailand, recently celebrated the Shan New Year for the first time in their camp of about 500 refugees. Some of these refugees have spent decades trying to remain invisible as war has ravaged their homeland. Pushed over the border by ruthless elements of Burma's government, these refugees have suffered every indignity Myanmar could bring upon them. They are victims of ethnic cleansing and yet during this celebration the irony of smiles and sincere moments of joy washed over the faces of these refugees.

We, in our homes halfway around the world, meanwhile prepare for a holiday season of overindulgence and purchasing of gifts we don't necessarily need. We lavish our friends and family with material wealth even when we don't need to. And all the while these displays we so often associate with our holidays have nothing to do with the meaning of those said occasions. No amount of gifts, no amount of food or drink, no amount of time spent shopping, or any amount of time preparing actually can be linked to the reasons we are supposed to be celebrating. All these excesses, however, do just the opposite as they wipe away our smiles and sincere moments of joy we should be finding in those holidays spent with family.

There is nothing noble about the downtrodden, they aren't really any different than you or I. The only difference is what they have been through. They didn't choose to be cast aside and abused by a nation of ideologically driven politicians. They didn't want to be driven from their homes and forced to become aliens in a foreign land. Yet here is the catch... the difference that makes all the difference in the world... they find the meaning of a holiday, a celebration, in the one thing that we all should always remember. Family.

Recently I celebrated Hanukkah with my family. Every year this holiday has the task of giving gifts much like those given at Christmas by our Christian friends. Yet it also has another blessing in it that can't be purchased and isn't received by the family G-d gave me... at least not in the traditional sense. This blessing, this gift of the spirit behind the holiday, is the bringing of light to a dark and cold world. It is the blessing of giving of both my time, money, and any other resources I might have to those in need. It is the part of this holiday that I have grown to love the most. For it is the part of this holiday that reminds me of what family really means.

Over the years I have found family in some of the most bizarre places. A sister in Thailand, China, Burma, Korea, England... A brother in Canada, California, Japan, Croatia... Everywhere I have turned G-d has shown me that there isn't a person alive that isn't my brother, my sister, my beloved family. Our color, our creed, our faith cannot matter to me. For inside my Master has placed a fire that burns without end, a love for a family that knows no borders or limits.

For this reason the chance to give of myself to those who need it most is one that surpasses any gift I could ever receive. That chance to help bring a smile a face that has been missing that feeling for far too long... that is what every holy day embodies. It is in this service to others that we find what G-d meant when He told us to love Him, fear Him, and be of service to Him.

My beloved sister, in all her wisdom for such a young soul, reminds me often that in her practice of Buddhism the idea of serving others is essential to the growth of the spirit. In her work to help others she revels in the opportunity to learn from others' experiences, both bad and good. And by coming alongside them she is able to help those in need as they get back on their feet. But more importantly, she finds what it means to be family even with those who aren't our own flesh and blood.

For our Muslim staff the command in their faith to give charitably is a major part of their holy days. I have always cherished the moments where I have gotten to celebrate with them. To give to their causes and come alongside them as a brother during these holy times.

And for our atheist members, some of our most bold screamers, the notion that we are all a family of sorts is just as relevant. They challenge me to look beyond my faith, my people, and my own limitations to find new ways to serve others. These members remind me constantly that we are all born with a desire to be happy, free, and to feel the love of others.

What better way to show that love than to serve?

The people of Burma are suffering in ways that most of us will never truly be able to understand. Children there have seen things that they should never have had to lived through. Mothers in Burma have had to watch their children die right before their eyes. Fathers have had to live with the humiliation of not being able to provide for their families. Sons have watched their mothers and sisters be raped by a military that uses sex as a weapon. Daughters have had to care for their siblings after their parents were slaughtered like animals by barbaric mobs.

Every minority in Myanmar has a long sad story to tell a world that is hellbent on remaining deaf. Their voices have been stifled by the greed of a world ready to exploit the newly opened up country in which they live. And for many, their very existence is placed in question as countless genocides continue to set Burma's countryside ablaze.

This is why your service to them, your family, is needed beyond what words can fully express.

There are several ways that you can get involved and start serving the Rohingya, Shan, Wa, Kachin, Karen, Chin, and other minorities in Burma. The first is rather simple, and that is to start reading every bit of information you can get your hands on. Learn their stories, learn their plight, and learn what the issues they face mean to them as a people. Take in every article, every report, and every tweet or blog post you can find about the suffering in Myanmar.

Next comes the work of any and all screamers...

Start spreading the articles and information you gather. By posting this information to your social media outlets you start the process of screaming. This starts by reaching out to your friends and contacts online. Yet it is just the start. You must take this information and start spreading it to people face to face. By having that one on one contact you have the ability to engage the other person not just on an intellectual basis but have the chance to put some heart into it... emotions after all, make the information stick.

Next you need to start contacting your government officials. If you are in America this means that you must contact your representatives in Congress. It means that you need to bombard your officials in your state house and your governor (many states will attempt to forge new economic relationships with Myanmar). You must keep your government officials accountable for their lack of action when dealing with ethnic cleansing and genocide.

This is just a start when it comes to serving of your times and energy. And many of us who scream on a regular basis do most of these things without relent. These are our daily struggle as we serve those the world so often forgets. Yet this isn't the only way we need to be serving our family, our fellow man.

Charitable giving isn't just a part of the holidays. It isn't something that need be waited for. It is something that we should be doing on a regular basis. And if you do, then let me take a moment to thank you for your selfless generosity. But for far too many of us there are times where we hold back and tell ourselves that our actions and effort is more than enough... but it isn't.

In a world where money is a god in it's own right the act of charity must be continuous. No matter how little it might be, the act of giving of our own wealth to those who are without is an act that blesses both the recipient and the donor alike. It is an act that should be done without seeking of recognition. It is an act that should be done without concern for what that money could had been used for in our own financial needs. It should be given freely and without stipulation. And it must be readily given without hesitation.

For those who would wish to do this during the holiday season we here at Alder's Ledge would like to invite you to join us as we give to Partners Relief & Development.

The wonderful people at Partners Relief & Development have been serving the people of Burma for years. Their endless work on behalf of the refugees and oppressed within Myanmar is the sort of service we all should strive for. It is a selfless giving to those most in need that gives freely and without reservation. People like Oddny Gumaer are personal role models to the staff here at Alder's Ledge.

You can learn more about Myanmar and give to Partners Relief & Development by visiting their website: partnersworld.org 

Please join us this holiday season in our efforts to scream for the oppressed and those in need across Myanmar. Your voice can help bring about an end to the suffering of thousands of refugees and internally displaced peoples in Burma. Your efforts can bring hope to those who have lived without it for decades. And your donations can keep vital workers in the field as they bring life saving medicines, food and water, and much needed help to the suffering in Myanmar.

Want to know more about becoming a screamer? 

Contact the author on twitter: @alders_ledge

Or a member of our staff: @AL_Staff

Source Documents 

(note: not all sources listed)

Partners Relief And Development
http://www.partnersworld.org/donate

Al Jazeera 

http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/inpictures/2013/12/pictures-koung-jor-shan-refugee-camp-2013125114454995239.html

DVB

https://www.dvb.no/dvb-video/the-first-shan-new-year-in-kuong-jor-camp-burma-myanmar/35051

Bullets For Words

(PLUCK series)

Kike 

Nigger

Chink

Fag

Goy

Beaner

Hebe

Christ Killer

Coon

Cracker

Sand Nigger

Guido 

Paki

Gypsy 

Haji

Raghead

Spic

Wetback 

Yid

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 

~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

All of these words have a certain way of hitting home for at least one or more members here at Alder's Ledge. They are cheap shots that we deal with daily. While out in public, while online, and even at home from time to time; these words have a way of falling upon the eardrums like a grenade. They sting like fire upon the soul as they prick at the flesh and drive up the will to fight. For each of us here at Alder's Ledge they are of course just words... but when we hear them they are like bullets.

Over the years of running this blog and maintaining a team of dedicated screamers we have endured every slur we could imagine and then some. At times we have had to look up a slur just to figure out what exactly we had been called. Yet for all the abuse we get we still remain dedicated. Our fight, our passion, our fire continue to grow as we work toward exposing genocides both past and present. 

As we have taken to one social media outlet after the other there is one thing we cannot ignore, no matter how hard we try. And that is the aspect of friendly fire as activists all around us take to the fight ever so viciously. While we applaud the effort, there is something to be said for turning our words... our bullets... upon our own.

Cannibalistic Peace

Outlets like Twitter are often nothing more than battlefields. Machine guns replace fingertips as bursts are set forth in 140 character bursts. And once those gun bursts are shot off for all to see, where there is no chance of taking them back, the person who fired first has no way to retreat. Whatever they felt was so important to merit their attack, either intentional or incidental, is permanently flying out there in cyber space. 

When it comes to activism on Twitter the machine gun is fed constantly with a chain of bullets offered up by the masses. This has the power to be used as a tool in fighting for justice. And yet it, like any weapon, has the capability to be turned on it's own. It is this aspect of firing off careless words in support of good causes that turns what could had been a good effort into friendly fire. 

For the main author of this blog that is highlighted mainly with the persistent mingling of the phrase "Zionism" with Judaism. This flirtation with blaming a collective over highlighting the individual makes sniping a religion more prevalent than attacking those who abuse it for their own advancement. It denies the diversity within Judaism, and yes... even the diversity amongst Israelis, so as to lump the target into a faceless mass where it can be culled. 

When you look at the use of one's words in this aspect the characteristics of war can be applied to every engagement. Whether we are truly trying to bunch up those we view as opponents or rather over simplifying the matter at hand doesn't make much of a difference once the first shots are fired. Once blood is drawn there isn't an opportunity to turn back.

For our Buddhists who work on this blog there is then the Rohingya issue that boils up hate speech targeting them. Most of our team members here who happen to be Buddhists are from Thailand and China. So the collective terms applied to them are not only applied through religion but geography as well. This helps every shot to sting just that much more as they delete our daily barrage of comments (note almost all comments are deleted anymore due to hate speech). 

"Buddhists in Burma have killed over 30,000 & raped women in front of their brothers for being Muslim, Those are the real terrorists."

 "Buddhists burn Muslims alive in Burma, yet we are the terrorists, right?"

"*All-h will punish Buddhists."

 

These are just portions of comments that often are seen in tweets as well. They are obviously hate filled rhetoric to us here at Alder's Ledge. Though some are founded out of a growing siege mentality amongst a small portion of Muslims we talk to, the hate behind them is unmistakable. And it is the hate within these excerpts that draws the battle lines and makes peace impossible. 

Our Buddhists team members are dedicated to combating the genocidal acts currently being perpetrated against the Rohingya and Kamen Muslims of Arakan, Burma. Many of our Buddhists team mates have worked with refugee agencies in their homeland and even within Myanmar. They practice their faith through their service to others, and this includes all religions and any ethnicity.

With that said the endless bombardment of their faith due to the hateful actions of a small minority within their faith. They have often expressed the feeling that their faith is singled out daily due to these individuals who wish to exploit Buddhism for nationalism rather than faith. For me personally, the irony of this feeling is something that can't be ignored. 

Buddhism and Islam both are supposed to be religions of peace and tolerance. When Muslims shoot off their opinion filled hate slogans against Buddhists it creates the same reaction these same Muslims have when being called terrorists. The sense of being attacked for their faith only rallies their will to resist and resist with unmistakable force. 

Yet retaliation should never be seen as justification by any means. 

Just because a certain individual decides to fire back doesn't mean that you were right all along. It means that much like you, the other person is simply human as well. When fired upon while trying to help the first reaction isn't to keep offering support but to rather withdraw and then counter attack. No human being is designed to run up a white flag when all they see around them are enemies. It just isn't natural. 

This creates a situation where those who are supposedly seeking peace are being subjected to friendly fire. The people that once welcomed them are now the ones sniping them from every direction. And just as it created a siege mentality in one community it creates much the same in the other. 

As the white flag comes down the flames go higher. And it is in this sort of fighting that we degenerate from peace on into cannibalism.

Irreversible Harm

Our team is comprised of thick skinned individuals. We take every abuse that comes with doing this job. And for the most part, we don't complain. Yet over the past week we have experienced the irreversible harm this friendly fire can create. 

Words are exactly like bullets in the sense that at times they do have the power to kill. 

A few weeks ago we posted an article called "Opting Out". The subject was important to a dear brother and friend who recently lost his battle with his demons. This struggle was one that many of us here at Alder's Ledge deal with or have dealt with over our years. It is a painful fight, a relentless siege of the mind, that those who fight it try desperately to hide. For that reason we decided to scream for those who are overcome by it. 

None of us were ready for him to leave us. But we don't get to go back and say goodbye. All we have now is the job to carry-on. Forever fighting, struggling, and screaming... just as he would be if he were here today. 

After writing that post with me our dear friend watched as hate mail began to pour in almost immediately. Most of what we see after post like that one aren't mere bullets but more like mortar shells. They have a way of eating away at our image of what humanity aught to be. They throw up dirt and smoke all around us as the hate clouds any sense of hope in our fellow man. 

Due to this the comment section is closed. 

We may never know why our friend left us. We may never know what those last moments were like, what was going through his head, or why we couldn't help. But I do know that the words he read, those he heard daily, and those we see constantly as a team all had their affect on how this ended. 

Before Pulling The Trigger

We all have a responsibility when it comes to speech in any form. The words we let loose are forever present in the minds and hearts of those who hear them. They have the power to heal or the power to kill. While a gentle word is like honey upon the lips of those who preach love and peace, those same words can be made harsh and become poison dripping from those same lips. 

In activism we have a responsibility not only to our own self but our cause. By firing off words tainted with hate we not only hurt those around us but damage the very cause we are trying to help prosper. With every word we speak out of anger, frustration, or hopelessness we create hostility in those we are supposed to be trying to reach. 

Before we speak, tweet, or update a status there should be a moment of questioning. We should think about how this will help or hurt our cause. We should think about how those who read or hear our voice will interpret what we are saying. After all, it isn't how we want to say something that really matters but rather how our audience will hear it and just how it will set upon their minds and hearts. 

We aught engage our audience with words that tug at their heart strings and not ones that burn like hot lead. This is how we win the battle for hearts and minds... with love, not hate.

*Note that the author of this blog post does not spell out the name of G-d due to religious observance.

Never Forget, Never Relent...

A Team of Screamers

There aren't many people who can request Alder's Ledge to do a post, especially one like this one. We are a small team that would rather hide behind the screens from which we work. So when our most soft spoken member asked us to explain to the world a little more about us... well we spent two weeks deciding just how that would or could be done.

So this is what we came up with...

A History...

Alder's Ledge began from the stubbornness of one individual and an old desktop computer. The subject was and has always been somewhat dark and dreary. What first began as widely rejected political opinions slowly gave way to the passion of the founding member... something even more depressing than politics... and that is of course genocide and genocide education.

As that founding member, I remember the first time I became aware of genocide. As a small child I remember turning on the television after school one spring day and seeing the news instead of cartoons. The images of people laying in dirt streets while others hacked away at them with machetes was burned into my mind that day. I recall asking why that was happening only to be told to forget it. But somethings never can be forgotten.

Soon after that came Bosnia. The images of people running for cover as a gunshot broke the silence still chills my blood. Watching a body drop as the world around that poor soul explodes into chaos... these are the things that young minds don't process well. Yet when Bosnia came onto the television I couldn't watch away. It was like I was watching history in replay mode.

For members of Alder's Ledge this story is told over and over again. Some of our members have a family history with genocide. Others have watched it play out on their borders. And others have survived genocide. The relationships we have with it are what drives us. The pain that it has left upon our hearts, our minds, our souls... that is the prick upon our flesh that keeps us moving.

One such member is a beautifully spirited team member from Thailand. Her story of growing up in a country right next door to the one that her family died in inspires us all. The love that she shows to people who many of the rest of us might deem unworthy is humbling in ways words can't express. That desire to address one of the darkest parts of the human experience with a love unlike any other is a light onto our path.

Stories like hers show Alder's Ledge how we are supposed to go about our work. It is why we attempt to be fair and honest in every case of genocide (or human rights violations of any sort). It is why we break complex cases of genocide up into long series of posts rather than condensing the subject. This allows us to explore the complexity of the subject in a way that shows compassion and justice rather than bias or hatred for the perpetrators.

For another member of Alder's Ledge this way of looking at the world has been with her since she was little. Growing up in a country where uniformity is expected, she watched how people act with one another. Seeing how people love, how they hate, how they can be indifferent to the suffering of others, and how they apply empathy in other cases; she learned what it meant to scream. By breaking the patterns that keep us blind to the suffering of others, she learned how to use here gentle voice to shatter the silence.

These are just three members of Alder's Ledge. In each case we have had to learn what it meant to us to scream on behalf of others. We have had to look both inward toward our own souls to examine what genocide meant to us and then look at the world it has ravaged. In every case we have come to the same conclusion. And that is that we can't afford to remain silent.

Our Work...

Currently Alder's Ledge has members in China, Thailand, Europe, and across North America. In each region we all do the same thing, essentially. We work to raise awareness of genocide in our local communities. We find organizations that work to help victims of genocide and then support them in any way we can. In addition we also work to connect our work with that of other organizations so that we can come alongside them and partner with them as best as we can. 

We are, as mentioned above, are a small group of individuals from differing backgrounds. All that we have today, all that this small blog has become, has been hard fought to gain. Every bit of growth we have made has been through sweat and tears. And every last bit of it has always been about helping others at any cost. That is precisely why we hide who we are and how we do it. The end results should be all that ever matter to us. 

Currently Alder's Ledge donates to Partners Relief and Development on a monthly basis. In addition to this our members donate to local charities and organizations that help refugees in Thailand, Syria, and across Africa (Sudan and Uganda mainly). Members who can, are supported in their volunteer work with groups across the world helping either raise awareness of genocide or refugees of war and ethnic cleansing. 

The rest of our work is done here on the blog. 

Screaming here on the blog is a job that takes hours of research and even longer discussing the topics amongst members with experience in the given issue. Though we are not experts in what we often emerge ourselves into, we do cite any sources that we use to educate ourselves upon the subject at hand. Recently we have begun linking the sources so that readers can continue their research after reading our post. This helps support our belief that a screamer should have a strong desire to learn constantly so that their voice can be confident and loud. 

Our Path Ahead... 

Alder's Ledge will continue to struggle to help spread awareness of genocides both past and present. We try to scream on behalf of the Rohingya and other ethnic groups in Burma who are suffering from what we consider to be genocide. In addition we will be focusing on North Korea, the Romani people in Europe, Syria, and countless other cases of ethnic tension and genocide across the globe. 

To do this we continue to put together presentations with small groups and local organizations. These presentations can consist of anything from dinner parties to simple one on one talks with interested groups or individuals. The main goal is and will always be the spreading of the information we have gathered on any given genocide (past and present). 

Our only motto is and has always been...

Never Forget, Never Relent, Scream.

Pluck My Eyes Out

Sew My Mouth Shut...
(Screamers Post)

"We've forgotten much. How to struggle, how to rise to dizzy heights and sink to unparalleled depths. We no longer aspire to anything. Even the finer shades of despair are lost to us. We've ceased to be runners. We plod from structure to conveyance to employment and back again. We live within the boundaries that science has determined for us. The measuring stick is short and sweet. The full gamut of life is a brief, shadowy continuum that runs from gray to more gray. The rainbow is bleached. We hardly know how to doubt anymore."

             In a world where people incessantly tend to focus on their own given crisis of the day there really isn’t much hope for the rest of mankind. The continual desire to wrap ourselves in the same flag day in and day out leaves all these so called humanitarians blind to the world around them. Though they claim to be more aware of the world than any other they never bother to employ empathy over apathy when the given cause would require of them actual work. Instead the masses of self-infatuated humanitarians would rather beat their chest so over self-serving issues that only serve to bloat their abortive versions of humanitarian work.

It doesn’t take long once immersed in certain pools of such self-felicitating narcissist to realize that even their pet causes don’t really matter to them. The reason for caring in the first place was always about serving their sense of self-worth and feeding their own ego. By attaching such lofty virtues as empathy to themselves they would wish that others viewed them as being in perpetual servitude to a cause greater than themselves. Yet the causes they pick are always associated with them in one way or another. The simple desire to help others on the basis of their humanity is absent.

At some point this approach to serving the needs of others crosses over from humanitarian work to ideological masturbation. The desire to alleviate the suffering of others and ensure a better life for the downtrodden is replaced by the desire to assure their own ego’s elation. When the given cause proves fruitless they don’t, however, decide to move to the next one; instead these narcissists turn cannibalistic.  Where failure to end the anguish of the people they claim to be helping occurs these egocentric ideologues turn to self-flagellation.

The goal of humanitarian work should never resemble any of these things. Though we are supposed to be invested in our cause we are not supposed to make the cause about us. When we are immersed in the suffering of others the threat of having our empathy for the other turn to apathy become a very real possibility. The prolonged application of another person’s suffering to our own consciousness creates callousness to the pain we sought to alleviate in the first place. It also creates an emotional trigger from which we respond once others touch upon that pain. Neither of which are constructive to the work intended to come from our initial investment in the first place.

Then there comes the aspect of picking and choosing for what causes a so called humanitarian is willing to devote any time to. This is an area of this field I have never understood in part due to the arrogance of it. Either you use your voice, your time, and your effort to help all or you never really help anyone. There is either no greater calling in helping our fellow man or there is the calling to help our fellow this, that, or the other. By picking a particular group on the basis of how your own sympathies lie you neglect the notion of serving others and rather pick the desire to protect your own. Whether that is on the basis of nationality, religion, race, or social standing. It is an aspect of humanitarians today that is both sickening and disheartening.

When faced with the opportunity to help someone who is desperate need the last thing that should be on our mind should be his or her religion. Yet the fact remains that in far too many the “Ummah” or “body of Christ” is far more important than helping those who are perishing daily. Tribalism and collectivism replaces the notion that our fellow man is no better or worse than we are and subjects them to our indifference on that basis.

We don’t need more people to simply be sympathetic or apathetic to the causes of which this blog speaks. We need people who are willing to speak out for another person regardless of what differences there might be between them. We need people who can rise above the selfish desires that seem to allure so many to this work, but rather people who are willing to give of themselves freely and without guile. The world after all doesn’t need more egos to feed but rather those who are ready and willing to feed their fellow man. It doesn’t need more voices droning on about causes simply to appear big hearted, but rather those who will scream regardless of how it makes them appear.

If we can do none of these things than the world would be better if we simply plucked our eyes away and ignored the images we so often flaunt for our causes. It would be better that we be made mute than to have our voices rumble on about anything and nothing. Either the work at hand is valuable for the aspect that it helps others or it is a selfish endeavor. There is no gray area here.

"Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth lie, but rather mourn the apathetic, throng the coward and the meek who see the world's great anguish and its wrong, and dare not speak."

Beyond The Ummah

Screaming For Those Outside Our Faith
(Screamer Post)

The views expressed in this post are opinion based and do not represent the views of Alder's Ledge's many different contributors and writers. Our team here at Alder's Ledge is religiously diverse and do not all share the same faith or ideals. With that said this post should be seen as the opinion of our main author alone. Please read with an open mind and feel free to contact the author with any feedback you might have.

I don't often speak out against the given faiths of others. My personal opinion is that those such beliefs are not suitable for polite conversation. And yet over the past few weeks the assiduous desire to do so has constantly come forward from the back of my mind. Not from conflict with any given faith in particular. But rather due to the lack of heart and compassion I continually see in these so called believers before me. 

I understand that there is a compulsion to tend to one's own community of pious brothers and sisters before focusing on the needs of others. But I don't exactly understand as to why this compulsion exists in the first place. It is the very existence of this ethnocentric obligation that at times amuses me and yet more often than not infuriates me. 

When I first began writing about the genocide the first group that jumped on board with my "screaming" was the Armenian community. Of course the topic I was writing about at the time was the Armenian Genocide and the lack of recognition for it across the United States. So naturally the Armenian community clung to the idea of screaming and readily helped in doing so. After all, it was an effort to both remember and honor their ancestors who had perished at the hands of the Turks. 

Yet when I write about the Romani people in Europe and the Americas the collective voice of the Christian Armenian supporters falls away. 

Then came the Syrian articles. Suddenly the few Christian supporters who wanted to scream vanished. But just as they stepped away, in came Muslim supporters who wanted to scream on behalf of their oppressed brothers and sisters. And once again the faithful were ready to scream... 

Or were they?

It is easy for us to scream for those who we feel bonded to. It is easy for us to take up the struggle of a community that we share a given faith with and common sense of identity. We feel the desire because we can relate to their suffering by imagining what it would be like if we had the same thing happen to us. The ability to superimpose our own selves in their given scenario is made easier by the religion we share with them. Yet if we take away that trait and cancel out any religious sympathies we might have for the victim, the ability to scream for them dwindles rapidly. 

This has been made clear to me when I myself have crossed the imaginary line between one faith and the next to lend my voice to the oppressed on the other side. In the case of the Rohingya people, a topic I'm the sole author here on, the question comes up often as to why I care. And it is a question that seems both offensive to me and odd at the same time. 

Are the Rohingya not human beings like myself? Do they not have strong religious beliefs that are being trampled upon by the government of Myanmar in much the same way as my ancestors' religion was? And if I were in their shoes would I not want somebody to scream on my behalf? 

The question of faith is not one that should guide us toward a given "cause" or the plight of this group over that one. If we are honest in our beliefs we would note that G-d never commanded us to defend our faith at the expense of other people. Instead, and much to the contrary, our faith should guide us to care for all people no matter what their given faith or social standings might be. We should be ready to fight on the behalf of all the downtrodden and outcasts that society creates. Without a second thought, we should scream till our throats are raw and our breath runs short. For this is the basic principle of each of our faiths... to show the love our Creator has shown to us. 

O you who believe! Stand out firmly for justice, as witnesses to All-h, even though it be against yourselves, or your parents, or your kin, be he rich or poor, All-h is a Better Protector to both (than you). So follow not the lusts (of your hearts), lest you avoid justice; and if you distort your witness or refuse to give it, verily, All-h is Ever Well-Acquainted with what you do. 

~ Surah An-Nisa 4:135

"Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause." ~ Yeshayahu (Isaiah) 1:17

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all."

~ Romans 12:15-18

If we are to call ourselves believers than we must first learn what it means to believe and not just pick and choose what suites us best. And if we are to call ourselves screamers than we must show our dedication to scream for anyone, anywhere, at anytime. We cannot choose who we love anymore than we can choose for whom we will scream. 

"For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another"

~ Galatians 5:13

We have been born free men. We have a voice that is a blessing given onto us. It is a blessing that is meant to be used not to serve our own flesh or our own people but to be at the service of others. If it is withheld from this then we should never expect others to use their blessings on our behalf.

The serving of our own community is important. But the showing of our faith through the service to others is even greater. Screaming beyond the boundaries of our faiths and outside our comfort zones shows this for all the world to see. Through this act we become a light to a dark world that so desperately needs our passion, our hearts, our love, and our voice.

Want to reply to the author?

Contact Jack on Twitter: @alders_ledge

We Are All To Blame For Syria

Written by Nanice

The Arab League. The damned Arab League. Where oh where are you? And Jordan and Turkey and Saudi and Qatar and everyone else in the region that should step up. That should have stepped up. Where are you? Why are you waiting for the United States to handle Arab affairs? (In all fairness Jordan and Turkey are bursting at the seams with the refugee crisis.) So why didn't the United States or the European Union get involved earlier as opposed to now? Way before well over 100,000 people have died and now over 3-4 million people are in dire need of humanitarian aid? 

Obama and Cameron condemned atrocities, but sat on their hands and waited. The Arab League condemned atrocities as well, but just sat on their hands. Nowhere to be found. As usual. As always. I can't be disappointed because I am always disappointed. Now chemical weapons have been used so now "we care." The world "cares." The EU "cares." Saudi "cares." France "cares." Israel "cares." The United States "cares." Obama "cares." And so on.

The day Bashar Al- Assad started killing children is when the world, The EU, the Arab League, the US, Obama, Cameron, etc., etc., should have "really cared." They didn't then. They don't now. 

Obama wants to save face and make Americans think he's doing the right thing by going to Congress. What happens if they say no? No to intervention? Will he over ride them anyway? What is his motive NOW vs. 2 years ago? And why does the US get tell the other Arab countries what to do? 

I'm not for US involvement, but I'll be damned if it happens in my name and makes the situation worse. I won't blame the US or EU fully. I will blame the Arab League, KSA, Qatar, Jordan, Turkey, Russia, China and Iran. I will blame everyone but not the US wholly. Why? Because the US does nothing that doesn't protect or benefit Israel. You know this. You should know this. If you don't, you know now.

And all you "Hands off Syria" people, what is your solution? "Hands off!" "Hands off!" Then what? What happens next? No plan huh? No. No plan. Just keep hands off Syria so things stay the same. All I can say now is, SORRY. Sorry children of Syria because all we can say is "Hands Off Syria!" And we can say we need intervention now, and those are short term, easy out solutions that make us feel better. But we do not project. We cannot think. We have nothing else in place for your future. We have no long term solution for you. So you will continue to die and for that I'm so very sorry.

And all you who urge me to call Congress to vote yes or no on strikes? I've been calling Congress. I've called them to ask what their plan is either way. I've called Congress to ask them what their long term goals are for Syria should they vote yes. I've called Congress to ask them what they will do if Assad is weakened and opposition takes over? What Congress will do if Assad strikes back? Or what they will do if he lashes out even harsher on his own people. I've called Congress to ask what if there are more civilian casualties? I've called Congress to say, if you decide not to strike what are your plans now because we've dug our heels in too deep?! What is the next step? What are the next 10 steps? Surely they have a plan? Surely they've thought this out! Surely we all have, haven't we?

I can't be mad and place all blame on countries who I expect to act. I can't be mad at them at all. Not entirely. Countries are run by people, who although have power, they are people just like you and me. They might have the best of intentions, they might have the worst of intentions, but either way there has been no overwhelming flood of public pressure on a world-wide scale to these people in power until now. 

Why? 

Because chemical weapons have been used and now the threat of foreign intervention is real. Very real. So real it now has an affect on us? Now we, you and me, those of us who call ourselves "activists", those who wanted to help but didn't know how, all of us, we, you and me, are frantically trying to help Syrians and ourselves (let's not joke) by either pressuring these powers to intervene or to keep their hands off. Where were we, you and me, and activists and global citizens; those who wanted to help but didn't know how or when? Where were we when the Houla massacre took place? Where were we when it happened in Daraa? When it happened in Hama? In Aleppo? When the refugees reached into the tens of thousands? Then hundreds of thousands? When it reached 1 million? When there was a mass exodus of refugees to Iraq? Iraq for crying out loud! Where were we? We, and you and me, we are to blame. All of us. All of us are to blame because we waited too long. We waited for it to come to this. I am to blame because I sat in the comfort of my own home listening to the screams and cries of Syrians. Men and women and elders and children, all begging for help. I sat in the comfort of my own home while children were butchered, mothers & daughters were raped, while their fathers and husbands were being tortured. I am to blame while I stayed up all night looking through the awful videos and decided to wait.