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Sharing Poverty
This is Doubting Thomas Sunday. I’d dare not count how many Doubting Thomas sermons I’ve given. So this time, I want to deal with the Acts reading, because it is so pertinent to the times, where we have failed to believe what Jesus Christ was telling us. Paul tells us we must love one another and share with one another and help one another. We are responsible for each other. And yet, look at the state of the world today. It has been frightening. Psychopaths have been in power. recently. It was shocking when the ex-president told people to invade Congress and do what they wanted to do. Horrific. It has been inexcusable because we have failed to take care of each other as Christ told us to do.
Our voices have been ignored. Few cared about anything happening a block away. We watch it on television news. How do we know we have failed - look at the violence, the racism still affecting society, the crime on every street, the mentally ill, the starving and wandering refugees, the homeless, the prostitutes, the wretched beechecombes who wander the streets and beaches all over the world, the drugged youth who kill to smoke cocaine and are dying at breath-taking speed from abuse of opioids? We blame much of it on poverty. Poverty erupts when a person has nothing, not just food or shelter, but no family who will take them in, no work, no hope, no self-respect, and it covers the land like a giant wave that goes further and further interior as it realizes there is nothing to stop it.
 My daughter Mary blames all the indecencies, the hatreds, the violence, the killings, on poverty. “We must eliminate poverty,” she says with hope in her generous heart. She has started by purchasing a home for a homeless man who is mentally ill. She insists we must blame society because we have not cared about each other from the beginning. The Bible is full of stories and records of power and majesty of the rich and the regal, of tribes and confusions, but until Jesus was humbled to be born on this earth, no one had much interest in dealing with the poor, the poor who really did most of the labor whether it was building a temple or harvesting corn or shepherding livestock in rocky fields. And now look at our mess - the super-rich in exotic mansions vs the super poor who live in horrific conditions.
In the '90s, I used to go to Marones for the horse races down a street that cuts off of Camino Carrasco which passes by the garbage dump (now a giant hill of plastic throwaway covered in grass) - and on the opposite side of the street is a kilometer or two of ranchos, made of carton, sheet-metal pieces, plastic bags, boxes, whatever could be rescued from your and my garbage, costing them nothing but a starving horse and a falling apart wooden wagon, and giving them shelter and edible scraps. In prayer, I think of these people often, poor but inventive who somehow have a heart and hope. When we would return in the evening from Marones, I would be amazed as to how many, snug in the fragile compositions of wood, tin, cardboard and paper, had a small black and white TV turned on, as the family shared mate watching soccer games. Clever and resilient they are. I don’t know if happiness is an adjective they use.
Poverty. Eighty per cent of the poverty in the state of Tennessee is in my home town, Memphis. We are the poor corner of the state and we get little attention from the powers that run the state because we vote Democratic, I think. But we also know finally that Black Lives Matter. Back in the early days, Memphis was sort of a cheap Las Vegas for those laboring on cotton plantations in Mississippi, Arkansas and some of Alabama. Weekends, workers would pour in town for the Blues and beer and barbecue. It was a wild city and on Monday in the back of the newspaper were short stories of the killings over the weekend resulting from booze and battle. Alot was fighting over a woman.
Memphis is more cultured today. But still today our streets are filled with gang violence, and robberies, and drugs, and car rages, and shootings for no reason. It seems to be the norm. Racism still has its head above the town, in spite of the hundreds of churches that rich and poor alike can worship God and help each other, and we still must fight a poverty that cannot cure itself
In Acts, we read that all those who were believers in the risen Christ were of “one heart and soul and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.“ Now can you imagine us living that way? We are so spoiled by ownership, by having and taking care of the things precious to us, that if asked to share these things with someone how would we respond? I’d have to think about that more than once, especially if I didn’t know who it was, or if I’d lose what I have… Let me think about that a bit more. But it was in this sharing, which to me was the original intention of the creation of this world, that all should and could share and enjoy its benefits whether it be the tiny fish egg to the giant basketball player - equally. In the days of Jesus, the apostles were able to gather followers not only because of their words, and the remembrance of what Jesus had suffered for us, but because they lived as they were supposed to live. Sharing. As Acts says, “There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned land or houses, sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles feet - and it was distributed to each as any had need.”
This isn’t a topic we touch often. Yet, I always have in the back of my heart the story of the rich man who Jesus loved but said unless he gave all his possessions to the poor, he would have a hard time entering the kingdom of heaven. He didn’t say he would not enter, but it would be hard for him to enter heaven, because he put priorities on possessions. For years, I have lived in a fabulous house in Memphis, with incredible view of Mississippi River, with art covering every inch of wall space, and furniture galore and all the kitchen gadgets one needs. And yet, every evening, when I came home from my work in prisons, from juvenile court and as chaplain of the police force, I cringed when I turned off the fancy alarm system I fund to protect all the possessions. I felt guilty. How could I live in these surroundings when people are starving, are being shot on the street, are living in a poverty that I promise you equals anything you might find in Brazil. This is the deep south, the racist south, where black people are disrespected, even though finally at last, many hold high positions as mayors, police chiefs and heads of corporations and education. The few who have climbed out of the pits of poverty, are finally showing their beautiful spirits, their exceptional knowledge and experience, and their passionate hopes for the future. The majority of my friends are black, African American we say. I am so beautifully blessed as they begin too have power in this breaking apart nation.
So, much to my children’s shock, I started downsizing my life. Selling the art at major auction houses, giving away furniture, clothes and objects, except the bed, and a chair, and this is still an ongoing process - I never imagined how hard it is to sell your possessions when you want to sell them. If no one buys, how can you complete your promise? What happens is, in my case, I just give them away or donate to schools. I guess that is just as well as selling them and giving the money to charity.
And now I’m living so far away (three hours from Montevideo, UY) in Carmelo in a house so small it would probably fit in my old bed room and I can smile and rejoice and have faith that I’m trying, even when I moan about spending the day sweeping up hairs of 3 dogs who are in charge, it seems. I’m loving the simplicity of doing without, although I really don’t do without but do with less, bypassing things I don’t need. My husband teaches me about simplicity so I’m loving not feeling so guilty about my privileges. I’m loving being here again to share faith with Uruguayans, in the name of our blessed Jesus.
May we begin to consider a new purpose in life so we can declare, As we read today in Psalm 133 : “Oh how good and pleasant it is when brethren live together in unity.” Shall we as Easter Christians try this?
~ Rev
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audrey@audreytaylorgonzalez.com
www.audreytaylorgonzalez.com
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