Unseen Suffering + Thanksgiving gluttony

“Life is not fair” I heard a friend say the other day. Pondering the meaning of this I concluded: “Life is unjust” to be the biblical terminology used, and somehow this gave me a strange sense of hope.

Only an hour ago I had been feeding hundreds of young children. I did not know their names nor had any deep conversations with any of them. All I knew was for most of these children the porridge I would give them would be the only food they would receive this day. Many of the children had physical signs of infections and malnourishment. But since I had no personal relationship with the children, my response was to emotionally distance myself from the extreme suffering each one represented. Seeing the children sitting down on the cold cement floor of the rented warehouse where we feed them, made me feel satisfied inside; “I did a good thing today”, I thought.

The left over porridge we gave to breast feeding mothers. Most mothers are so severely malnourished that their bodies do not produce enough milk for their babies, causing a great number of deaths among newborns and those under 2. These hungry women had fist fights to determine their place in the porridge line. I was amazed at such behavior. Knowing this information and seeing the desperation I felt even more “good” about the role I played today. Not knowing my “feeling good” would soon be crushed and an overwhelming powerlessness would take its place.

An older boy was carried in. Skinny as can be he looks only a week away from death. The boy, suffering from Tuberculosis, has not been eating. With barely enough strenght to hold his cup of porridge he is taught the importance of eating, yet the expresions of pain after a sip of porridge explain it all.

Walking through the village where these mothers and children live, just a stones throw away from the warehouse, my good feelings were completely absorbed by a feeling of compassion and powerlessness. A smell of stagnant water and sewage awakened all my senses to the consequences of injustice.

Naked children aimlessly walking around. Young adults drunk at 10am, teenage girls with babies and toddlers all around them. No animals are seen except for a dead rat. Old men in rags trying to keep warm while sitting on the wet mud floor of their shacks. A sight of desperation and hopelessness. My eyes catches a few women with bright red tomatoes, this color, an intense contrast against the dark soil stained cloths of people, the dark of the mud covered shacks and the ever so muddy pathways.

“We fear the night” some say.”When the rains come in the night we have no where to go with our children.” The snakes that invade the tiny village during rainfall are poisonous. When children die, which happens all too frequently it is always blamed to witchcraft. Tb, cholera, malaria and other waterborne deseases spread rampid among th villagers.

No sustainable aid reached them. Though some are grateful for the relief aid they receive from time to time they desire what you and I desire in life. A place to call home, food security and education for their children.

With every rainfall I think of these precious people hiding for shelter, praying for the rains not to bring down their mud homes. When the temperature drops I pray for God’s angels to keep the people warm. When I meet them in the mornings and look in their eyes, I smile, yet my heart weeps. I think of this season one that celebrates Hope, Life and Peace. I think of the millions of dollars that will be spend on Christmas presents world wide, even hundreds of dollars in simple families and my stomach turns and my eyes see the young boy with Tb, the woman starving herself to feed her twinns and the bare bottom children who simply don’t have cloths.

You and I are called to feed the hungry, cloth the poor, fight for justice and look after the widow and orphan. Jesus makes it simple; if we don’t or ignore doing this, Jesus will turn from us as if He does not know us (Matthew 25:34-45) I don’t have much to give financially but I can give 2 hours daily to feed them. I can make their need known to the world. I can clean a wound a place a band-aid, I can hold a child's hand and walk it to its mud home. Funding is available to continue the daily making of 120 liters (31 gallons) of porridge until Christmas. After that… we don’t know.

I think I know where I will be Christmas morning. Giving the gift of a cup of porridge to my hungry friends. After all, Christmas is not about gluttony nor about me or you is it?