Henri Cartier Bresson Breaks My Heart Again

Today, I am at home watching my son, prepping for digital photography class tonight where we will talk about poetics and photography. The class has several obscure readings from way outside the field of photography to help guide some conversations on seeing. We also will discuss synesthesia, a little color theory, and spend time reading and writing poetry, as well as listening to music (which is where their assignment sends them). 

The writing component is based off of several evocative images that I choose. The above image by Henri Cartier-Bresson is one for tonight. Since becoming a father, this has become an incredibly powerful image for me. I cannot help but to see the embrace, what I interpret as fear in his eyes at whatever is happening off the image to his right. There is something is the structure of his face and look that reminds me of my nephew as well. But the life of my own son makes me consider my own feeble attempts to protect him as he toddles around the home, climbing furniture, braves up to dogs, etc. But my fear is nothing compared to what is happening here. Taken in 1933, this boy, in Spain, cradled in his fathers arms would be 83 or 84 years old now...just a few years older than my father.

I cannot help but to see them, crouched down against that cement wall, seeking shelter, in the light of the photographs of the Syrian refugees and their children...the fear and uncertainty of what lies behind and what remains ahead for them. When I see the photographs of the refugees, I do not see religion or country of origin as I feel many conservatives do. I see humanity struggling for survival, families trying to find a place to be a family. I cannot imagine...and in part, I do not want to imagine what this is like. It is just too hard and tears fill my eyes because I just think of my beautiful son sleeping in the other room and if we were in this situation...it is just too much. And yet I know, that too much of the world lives with these realities. I am spoiled as a white, middle class American. Ive never feared for my life in the way these people have.

This is one of the remarkable things about photography. They have the power to make me cry in my dining room, as I am now. They have power to break us and convict us to action. I am thankful for these images and those who risk their lives taking them. We need them to break us out of our slumber, to find compassion for our shared humanity.  

A few years ago, I was reading Johann Baptist Metz for some conference papers. He argued that the Christian position is not simply praying for the situation, but like Jesus' incarnation into this world, we must enter in to others sufferings. We cannot throw money at the situations, whatever they may be. Certainly money is needed, and it is easy for many Americans to do because they have it. But I believe Christians are called for more. To enter into the struggles physically and emotionally whether that is with the Syrian refugees or with the Standing Rock Sioux on the NDAPL. Yes, it will put your way of life in danger. Are we willing to risk our life to help others better theirs?

​Lord have mercy on us all...those who need help, those who act, and those who fail to do so.