Showing posts with label hunger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunger. Show all posts

Monday, March 29, 2021

The Weight of Glory

Almost one in four families in the US did not always have enough to eat last year. The UN thinks that those struggling with hunger will double across the world thanks (no thanks?) to the pandemic. I think about it each time I grocery shop, as staples for the food cupboard are standard on my list, a tithe of my grocery cart for the hungry:  5 pounds of rice, tuna fish, cereal, coffee, jam.  When I pack up the bag each week to take to church I sometimes hear the dinner guests in Bethany murmuring in my ear, seventy-five thousand hungry people — do you honestly think what you are doing makes any difference?

We are engulfed by the Passion in Holy Week. It seems such a long way from Ash Wednesday, when the ground was hard and cold and the branches stuck out like bones.  Against that stark backdrop, the call to justice sounded clearly, but now that the trees are misted green with new leaves, it gets harder to imagine that people around me are still cold and hungry.  In the glory and the chaos of Holy Week it’s easy to let the every day work of the Gospel become submerged.  

But listen, I hear this gospel say to me, don’t let the enormity of what is happening overtake you, pay attention to the people on the edges of the action. Watch the disciples in the garden and the women at the cross, called to companion and witness.  Hear the centurion, driven to cry aloud a newfound faith.  Feel the weight of the body of Christ, like Simon the Cyrene and Joseph of Arimathea.  None of these acts would be enough to save Jesus, but all of them made a difference — then and now. 

I wonder what happened to Simon the Cyrene and to Salome.  The Gospels are silent, but somehow I suspect that whatever they went home to, it was never quite ordinary again. What will happen when this week is over? Will I return to the ordinary — or what passes for ordinary these days — dropping the faded lilies on the compost heap on the way out? Or will I be willing to bear the weight of glory?



This is an edited version of a reflection from Not By Bread Alone, Liturgical Press, 2018. Photo is of the door to the Passion facade at Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

Monday, June 01, 2020

The ratio

"The ratio" on Twitter is the ratio of replies to likes: when replies far outpace likes, the tweet is radioactive. The ratio here is the time it takes to prepare dinner to the time it takes to eat it. It's been running between 4 and 5. In large part this is because we've been making more things from scratch than I usually do. Loaves of bread, tortillas, pizza sauce, pasta. Things I often buy without a second thought.

I've been doing more from scratch for a lot of reasons. It's given me family time, cooking alongside Crash has been a delight. I've learned new recipes and new techniques from him, including a great chickpea stew. It's been some alone time as well, a time off Zoom and my email and all the management I've been doing for classes and colleagues. It's been contemplative time, kneading a ball of pasta for 8 minutes is deeply prayerful, at least for me. It's a way to leave loaves of bread and boxes of pasta on the grocery store shelf for those who need them.

It's a reminder, too, of what it takes to put food on the table, not just the cost in dollars, but the cost in time. A homemade loaf of bread costs me just 80 cents, far less than what a similar loaf would cost in the store, and not quite half the cost of a loaf of sliced white bread costs at the Acme here. But thrifty cooking takes time and energy, both of which I am privileged to have.

My awareness is all well and good, but as Pope Francis notes in Laudato Si', the goal is "to become painfully aware, to dare to turn what is happening to the world into our own personal suffering and thus to discover what each of us can do about it."[19] I'm not suffering when I bake my own bread, but if the experience doesn't lead me to discover what I can do about the reality of hunger in my own community, in my own nation, then the awareness, painful or not, is for naught.

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The ten most needed items at Philadelphia food banks. More than 200,000 children in Philadelphia go hungry. Roughly 80% of adults who are food insecure are working, 25% are senior citizens. Hunger is linked to our society's unwillingness to pay a living wage to those who work.


Friday, June 05, 2015

Column: Shopping with Jesus

From wikimedia.
This column appeared at CatholicPhilly.com on 28 May 2015.

Then the just will answer him and say, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?” — Matthew 25:37

Last week Jesus showed up at the Acme while I was pondering the powdered donuts in the Tastykake display. Could I afford those? Today this was a calorie question; 35 years ago, it would have been a question of budget — the answer, alas, is still “no.” I never went hungry when I was first living on my own, but I never put anything in my cart without considering the cost, either.

Christ was dressed as my friend Catharyn, comfortable in jeans, leaning on her cane, and came along to chat as I wound my way through the aisles. I reached for a can of coffee, part of my standard list for the food box at church. Catharyn grabbed another, “This one is cheaper, and you get more.”

We hit the baby aisle, discussing which size diapers would have the greatest impact on the smallest members of the Body of Christ and pediatrician Catharyn’s wish that more people would remember that formula is expensive.

By the time we reached the check-out line, I was looking at what was in my cart with an eye to a budget again. Not mine now, but the budget of the young mothers I meet at the shelter, for whom diapers and formula and a good cup of coffee enables them to go to work, and so, put food on the table.

The Compendium of Social Doctrine of the Church reaffirms “the preferential option for the poor … in all its force” to which the tradition of the church has borne witness from its very beginning. It quotes Pope St. John Paul II, who says our particular concern for the poor should inspire our decisions, big and small, and even our own manner of living.

The care of the poor and those on the margins is at the core of our relationship to Jesus, who St. Matthew tells us, says he is the poor one, the one who is starving, and the one who longs for clean water to drink and bathe in.

Does encountering Christ in the Acme change my grocery list? Does knowing that Christ lacks sturdy shoes to wear to work affect my budget? How much force does the preferential option for the poor exert on the way I live?

Looking at the abundance in my backyard, towering trees clothed in green arch down the block like a cathedral, fruit trees sprouting apples and plums and pears, it can be hard to remember that people lack for food and safe housing right here in Philadelphia, as much now as in Lent or at Christmas.

The Salvation Army bell is long gone from the front of the Acme, but Christ now asks me each time I visit, “when did you feed me, and what have you given me to drink? How do you care for the least among you? How do you learn to see me?”


The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, no. 182, states: “The principle of the universal destination of goods requires that the poor, the marginalized and in all cases those whose living conditions interfere with their proper growth should be the focus of particular concern. To this end, the preferential option for the poor should be reaffirmed in all its force.

“This is an option, or a special form of primacy in the exercise of Christian charity, to which the whole tradition of the Church bears witness. It affects the life of each Christian inasmuch as he or she seeks to imitate the life of Christ, but it applies equally to our social responsibilities and hence to our manner of living, and to the logical decisions to be made concerning the ownership and use of goods.

“Today, furthermore, given the worldwide dimension which the social question has assumed, this love of preference for the poor, and the decisions which it inspires in us, cannot but embrace the immense multitudes of the hungry, the needy, the homeless, those without health care and, above all, those without hope of a better future.”


A list of things to consider giving to your local food bank (call or check web sites to see what they need most): diapers (larger sizes), formula, deodorant, shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrushes, dried fruit, jam, peanut butter, coffee, canned fruit, canned vegetables, canned meat, pasta dinners, juice boxes, rice or other staple grains (in small, sturdy bags because people have to carry it home and most food banks do not have the capacity to repackage bulk items), money (your dollar can stretch even further than Catharyn’s careful shopping when the food bank spends it).

Glass containers are problematic for most sites because they are too easily broken. Pop tops are helpful for those without access to a well-stocked kitchen. Pick healthy choices when you can, just as you would for your own family.

See also the list at St. Francis Inn, an organization in Philadelphia that serves the hungry and those in need of safe shelter.

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Naked Places

The NY Times has an article today on an exhibition exploring the ethics of photography - when do photos cross the line (and there are more lines to consider than you might think). Along these same lines, photographer Mark Menjivar has been exploring what it means to be hungry in America. As part of the project, he took a series of photos that captures what we eat - or at least what we keep in our refrigerators. One of his subjects noted that asking "May I photograph the interior of your fridge?" was akin to asking someone to pose nude for the camera (a question this blogger asks upon occasion).


And yes, I've gone naked for my blog: that is my (unretouched) refrigerator.

The photos and a description of Mark Menjivar's project are posted here, click on "Portfolio" on the left hand side bar. Read more about this project from Laura Helmuth at the Smithsonian's Food and Think.