Poverty and Hunger

September 11, 2019

Understandably, most everything posted on social media today is about the attacks of 9/11. It was a horrific day that changed us as a nation. We came together in the face of a common enemy. Unfortunately, eighteen years has dulled out senses, lulled us into a slumber that could turn out to be a nightmare from which we do not awake. The unity that held us together those years ago has degenerated into partisanship at least as dangerous as the external threat to the country. Our representatives are more intent on demonizing the other party than on genuinely seeking solutions to the existential threats to our citizens. 

It is in light of this that today I began a journey in prayer and meditation for which I have high hopes. The Scripture came from Luke’s account of Jesus’ Beatitudes in chapter 6. Where Matthew “spiritualized” Jesus’ words of blessing, Luke’s recollection is stark and to the point. “Blessed are the poor...Blessed are you who hunger...Blessed are you who weep.” Poverty of spirit and hungering for righteousness are condensed into a simple statement about poverty and hunger. If God’s blessing is reserved for the poor, the hungry, the persecuted, where does that leave me, who has experienced none of that? We in America know very little of the suffering that is commonplace elsewhere in the world. We get irritated over minor inconveniences, think we are deprived if we have to cut back on cable tv or our cell phone plans; they live with continual lack of even the necessities of life. And God says they are the ones blessed. So how do we rich, filled-to-the-point-of-obesity, unpersecuted Americans obtain the blessings of God?

St. Francis of Assisi offers a clue. This Twelfth century Christian was born into great wealth, but renounced it to follow Christ. Poverty in itself is no virtue; neither is hunger or persecution (we would call it “bullying” today). Only that which is voluntarily entertained has spiritual value, incurring the blessing of God. This in turn, presents another problem: it is one thing to choose poverty for oneself; it is quite another to impose it on one’s family. We instinctively want our children to do better, to have more than we. I love to shower gifts upon my wife, and am grateful for the resources to do so. But we have come to that stage in life where there is precious little we need and gifts start becoming superfluous, so we try to bless others on those special occasions where we have been used to receiving gifts. We haven’t come to the point of actual poverty, but have chosen to live below our means. 

As far as hunger goes, we can, along with our prayers, choose to fast—to deny the body that we might be more attentive to the spirit. Fasting is a way of telling our bodies that they do not rule our lives; we don’t have to do what our stomachs demand. We can choose to let our spirits have the upper hand. I haven’t figured out the persecution part yet. Actively seeking it doesn’t seem to me to be particularly wise or spiritual.

Eighteen years ago, fanatical Muslims attacked us. They saw our moral and spiritual decay; they saw us choosing indulgence and determined that we had become weak and vulnerable. Perhaps bit by bit and Christian by Christian, we can prove them wrong by choosing a lifestyle of sacrifice for Jesus’ sake. I cannot wait for someone else to begin; today it’s up to me. I imagine I’ll make my share of missteps along the way, but today I took step #1 by choosing to fast once more. It’s been awhile, and it’s time. I am thankful for the Scripture that prodded me to resume a personal discipline that I hope will heighten my receptivity to the Holy Spirit and to the needs of those around me.