Today is Blog Action Day, a moment for everyone across the blogosphere to pause and consider a topic collectively. This year’s topic is poverty.
Thinking about poverty brings up all sorts of feelings within me: the shame I felt leaving the developing world, full of abject inequality, for the security of an airplane, a shower, and a life of privilege; the guilt I feel every time I notice that a recent purchase was made in China or Bangladesh or Nicaragua…enjoying my new thing while knowing that the sales price didn’t at all approximate the probable lost dignity and humanity of the person who stitched or manufactured it under horrendous conditions; the pain I felt, when I arrived in Argentina weeks after Hurricane Katrina, to see a headline on the front page of a Buenos Aires daily over the now infamous picture of an African American woman who drowned in the rising waters: “This Happened…In America?”
But while shame and guilt and pain can be useful emotions, can spur us to act when we would rather not or convince us to care when ignorance is simply easier, we can’t genuinely help out of shame, or love out of guilt, or act out of pain. We need to hope, and listen, and recognize that our lives and ambitions are imperfect but capable of improvement. That our interrelatedness with one another means that there’s always a chance to reach out and touch someone else, and that no day is too late to improve a rapidly changing world.
I’ve had the pleasure and privilege of spending a number of months in Central and South America. Those experiences have necessarily revolved around poverty in the developing world. I was given a prayer once that is attributed to Archbishop Oscar Romero, a priest who proclaimed a theology of liberation for the world’s poor and who was assassinated in El Salvador in 1980 because of his worldview. I’ve since learned that this prayer was not written by Archbishop Romero, but rather in his honor; it does not matter, since the sentiment is certainly consistent with Romero’s message. I’ve carried the prayer in my wallet for almost 4 years now, reading it from time to time, and I thought it would be appropriate to share today:
It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying that
the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that should be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything,
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning,
a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter
and do the rest.
We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
Ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future that is not our own.
Amen.