A re-post on remembering the poor this Christmas.
Hopelessness is anticipated defeat.
~Karl Theodor Jaspers (1883-1969)
Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.
~ from Isaiah 58
There are, beloved, places closer to hell. They exist on this earth, and this writer went back to visit one of them this last weekend.
Nagrak-Cilincing is an “illegal” trash dump in the Jakarta metro area. Waste from this mega-city was planned to be kept there for but a few months and then transferred to a more suitable location. That was many years ago. And when you think of a landfill in the industrialized world, you are not thinking of a place like this. Waste from toxic chemicals to medical waste to McDonalds styrofoam end up here.
The foul waste has fouled the earth, and the water beneath it, while foul smoke rises from small fires on the mountain of refuse. At the base of the mountain is a little village of shanty houses, a very dirty well, a kindergarten, some goats and a river that is so black and slimy that it does not just look dirty, it exudes evil.
And it is here that the people who live in this place, go to work. The men and women who venture onto this mountain, do it to make money. To be drawn from in the detritus of Jakarta is cash; not much cash, but enough to grind out a small living. They separate the garbage and sort the recyclable items into baskets and bags which they sell for up to 65 cents (US) per kilogram. A willing worker can pull in a little over $100 USD per month for their efforts. And while this is a pittance, it is more than dozens of millions of Indonesians make.
Also, it is here that dozens of children reside. To say they live here would be a cruel thing. To say they exist here is only a little better. Most have the sunken features of humans who have never had enough food or nutrition. The reddish-brown hair, paucity of musculature and the unhealthy skin of children like this indicate that they are just one major infection away from dying. And it is very difficult to tell their age, because size is not a good indicator after years of malnutrition.
This is my second visit back to my neighbors here in this town. And the situation is worse than six months ago. There are a few advances being made in the kindergarten, but the environment is so toxic that most governments would not even allow people to go into the area, let alone reside there.
Even so, with a sense that the day would be important, i went to help with a medical clinic and to bring some students along from the school i teach at. The hope in exposing ultra-rich kids to ultra-poor kids is that they will see each other as simply human, and worth each other’s time and attention. Some of this happens, but the situation is so grim with the heat and the smell and the crying and the buzzing of flies that sometimes one feels like shutting down. It is just too horrible.
Then, one of the moments for which i was born, happened. i looked across the muck of the road from the waiting tent in the medical clinic. And she was there. The picture above is this person, a mother. This woman was so tired and alone that she could not even seem to get up and come across the “street” to a place where she could be with some others, get some medications, and some rice and other foodstuffs from the visiting team. It seemed she had nothing left, and could just sit there and watch her child play in the doorway.
For those of you who have not been in moments like this, any words a man might say, simply do not have any capability of describing what goes on. The vortex of brokenness and anger and hopelessness and confusion and cognitive dissonance and rage and sadness and wishing that emerge from one’s inner being… Broken. Un. Able. To. Function. We weep, but it doesn’t help do anything but pour fuel on the fire burning away at us. Said more simply: There are just moments in missionary outreaches that seem futile. One moment you are smiling and handing out candy to little kids, and the next moment the fatigue and futility of the work threaten to overwhelm you. And then they do.
Mother Teresa said it best, “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” And i am beginning to believe i understand what she was talking about. The pain that comes in moments like these are the gasps and screams of the limited beings we are. EVERYTHING in our self SCREAMS that we cannot fix problems like this. They are just too big. The evil is just too dark.
It is not that we have no compassion. It is, perhaps, that we have too must compassion, and too much confidence in our own human abilities to fix things. And when we come to the end of our ability to handle things, the pain and confusion and rage and impatience we have always had, just manifest themselves more clearly.
And all of this is very good news.
Can we see it? Mother Teresa was on to something really big. The pain of this kind of work is necessary, but it is not the proper motivator of our caring. The pain of this kind of work is really our lack of faith that G_d knows exactly what He is doing, and that He could do it a whole lot better if we let go of our own tiny attempts at caring and let His Infinite Love pour through us instead. For, when it is Him who is working in us and through us, we do not run out of strength. When it is Him working through us in Love, any efforts we undertake are generally more effective in the natural, and certainly more effective in eternity.
Look, Mother Teresa would have told you she was a nobody. And if we get honest, so are you – and so am i. But, could this fool of a writer do some math here for a moment? What if three of us figured out the secret of simply living in Love with Him and allowing Him to take us beyond the pain and into really, profoundly and totally Loving the people He puts in front of us? The tiny little nobody of a nun was used to change the world. What if you and i finally allowed this to happen? What if a hundred of us did? What if a million?
So beloved, are you feeling the hopelessness of your calling? Good. Let Him burn it away. Let Him clean away the false sense of ability each of us carries inside – and let Him replace it with His Love, His very Self.
