MAKING A MOLEHILL OUT OF MOUNTAIN

“Nothing is great or small except in comparison.” This almost quote (it is pretty darn close) is from Gulliver’s Travels, the story of the man who ends up being tied up by “tiny people who see him as a giant, but who sees himself as of moderate stature and looks at these others as abnormally small.

About ten years ago I traveled to Binga, Zimbabwe with Catholic Relief Services to see what kind of work we were doing over there. There were a few voices that angrily cried out, “Why are you going all the way over there when there are people here without food in their refrigerator?!” But the poverty we were to experience there was nothing like what we call poverty here. There were no refrigerators. There would be no place to put a refrigerator if they had one. And if they miraculously had the space and a refrigerator, there was no electricity. There was no plant to make the electricity to get to the places where there might some day be a refrigerator to plug into the system. Looking every direction there was nothing. Maybe a broken down school bus that would not even be allowed on the road in the U.S. would come by offering public transportation now and then, maybe not. Or your return trip may be late at night dropping you off *somewhere* and there would not be so much as a night light to guide you to your hut. These are people who look at poverty in the U.S. as a major – MAJOR – step up. “Nothing is great or small . . .”

Something similar to that is happening to me this week. The rectory in which I live is fabulous in many ways, but there is no living room. Because of a lack of space the living room was turned into the pastor’s office (administrator). This makes it difficult to have anyone over to visit who is not a priest or family member, people you can take to your room. If somebody comes by for a friendly visit it entails sitting around my desk or at the dinning room table. (Yes, I hear the tiny violins in the background.) So I’ve decided to turn half of my office back into living room, desk at one end, comfortable chairs at the other. It is being done well, somewhat modestly, but not out of keeping with the city in which I live.

But there will be a house guest this week. He is a priest in a diocese with people who are as poor as the people of Binga mentioned above. I was thinking that I did not have the right chair for guests in the living room and he is sorry that he does not have a chair to sit in. The change over of the office will happen in the middle of his visit. It is a prick of the conscience. I don’t know that it would call me to give the project up if I were aware how this would all pan out, but it does remind me that I need to be charitable and at least keep in mind that when I am doing “without”, most of the people who live in the world today or the majority of humanity who ever lived on the face of the earth would be ecstatic with the abundance of my “with.”

SIR, PUT DOWN YOUR UTENSILS AND STEP AWAY FROM THE BUFFET

Shamefacedly and with head hanging low I confessed to those who hold me accountable for such things my disastrous eating habits these past two weeks. I am already weak, and if someone says, “Oh, but I made this just for you,” my resolve is just destroyed.

I have been better about choosing what I will eat before touching a prepared plate. But then we sit there and talk and the remaining food is right there before me and all of a sudden another forkful is heading toward my mouth.

I read once somewhere that one third of the world is dying from lack of food. Another third of the world is dying from over eating. We live in the land overflowing with milk and honey. I spend too much of my energy trying to run away from the abundance of food.

About 10 years ago I went to Zimbabwe with Catholic Relief Services (CRS) to see what kind of work we were doing there. This upset more people than you would think. “We have poor people right here in our own country whose refrigerators have nothing in them!” This is true. But most people that live in the United States live in relative poverty. The places where CRS goes people live in absolute poverty. Many there would consider themselves fortunate to be what we consider poor in the United States.

Empty refrigerators are not the problem in Zimbabwe. There are none. There are no kitchens in which to put one. Many families live in a cluster of tiny mud and straw huts. There is no electricity to plug a refrigerator into. As a matter of fact, there is little of anything for miles and miles.

Here are some pictures from a town called Binga. In them you can see the Church and a collection of some of the young folk who live there. They did not choose to be there. (Why don’t they just move out of the desert to someplace where there is food many ask.) They did live in a lush area and subsisted happily on their own until being moved out and settled here by decree so that their prime land could be used as resort areas. They were promised water, but it never came. And there are no resources for them to just pick up and move.

CRS, unlike many groups, doesn’t just drop a whole bunch of money on the problem and move along. The CRS of the United States sets up revolving loans to establish businesses that helps residents becomes self sufficient. A loan was given to a lady to buy equipment to sew school uniforms (required there for all students) and she earned enough to pay back the loan, which went to another man who bought chickens to start a farm. In this way we assist them in not becoming dependant on outside sourcing for sustenance.

It is with great comfort that I recommend CRS (the people who bring you Operation Rice Bowl) to you. It not only reaches out to the poorest of the poor in the world, it is a charity in which an incredible amount of each dollar goes directly to helping those in need.

Just one last picture of interest; here is the chapel for the main seminary of the country. It is absolutely packed with seminarians. What a joy it was to celebrate mass with them. One wonders if they will be the future missionaries to the United States.