May 1, 2006
Friends,
The other day I was at the Metro station on my way to CISM (pronounced
ciz-me), where I am working with prostitutes. A young woman bumped
into me and indicated that she knew me, and just in time I remembered
that we had been together on one of my trips to take women from
CISM to visit stores that might buy their craft products. This
time, Edna was carrying her 3-month old granddaughter (Edna’s
daughter, the mother of the baby, is 14).
The subway platform was crowded because the trains were delayed.
Edna is tiny, under 5 feet tall, and that afternoon she was burdened
with the infant and all the paraphernalia that babies need. For
the first time I realized how threatening an unruly crowd can
be to small people carrying precious babies. We made it into the
train and out again—no small accomplishment! Then we walked
downhill for several blocks over a very badly maintained sidewalk—another
booby trap for the fragile and burdened.
Edna mentioned that the baby had awakened with a fever, and she
had taken it to a clinic. The clinic told her to go to a hospital
emergency room, but when she arrived, personnel in the ER sent
her to a second hospital, which sent her to a third. Finally she
received the necessary attention and medicine. She also said that
she had eaten nothing that day, and there was no food at home
(for her four children, too, whom she did not mention), which
may explain why she was going to CISM with the infant. CISM was
able at least to give her lunch, but the encounter left me aghast
at the invisibility of the inhumane suffering that surrounds me
and so many others in this city, which may be the second largest
in the world.
Last week, a major São Paulo newspaper celebrated the
news that Brazil has moved from the world’s first- or second-worst
country in terms of income inequality to the tenth worst. We have
a long way to go. I wonder too, how things are going at home in
the United States, where I read that income equality is growing.
Is the suffering it entails mostly invisible there too?
I was reading recently about the homeless. Here it is correct
to refer to these people as “in the situation of living
in the street,” which emphasizes that this important characteristic
is—or should be—temporary. It’s a delicate locution
that is typically Brazilian. The article said that in São
Paulo, there are about 18,000 in this situation, and compared
that to the number in Washington, D.C., a much smaller city, which
has 15,000 “in the situation of living in the street.”
How can that be in the wealthiest nation in the world?
Here, churches often give charitable “basic baskets”
of food to the very poor, and a few have programs that provide
psychological or dental services and even job training. Though
the unemployment rate is high (almost 17 percent), it is down
from the 20 percent or more of a few years ago. Even so, I wonder
who will hire the newly trained job seekers. What does it do to
the spirit of the very poor to take training and still have no
work? When I first arrived in Brazil, I shared my colleagues’
disdain of charity as a solution to the massive social problems.
But while I still have reservations about it, I have accompanied
too many, especially the elderly, who literally survive because
of these basic baskets of food, to continue my condemnation. I
hear that food closets in the United States are unable to keep
pace with the growing needs for their help, too.
So we, I in São Paulo and you in the United States can,
if we want, be oblivious to the terrible needs that are all around
us. Our churches do help—and through charity prevent even
greater tragedies—but they often seem to say little about
changing social structures that create or support terrible poverty.
Arch tells me that there are many texts in the Bible that support
a different vision of society. My favorite is Micah’s famous
response to the question of what God requires of us: To do justice,
love solidarity, and walk humbly with our God. Solidarity? Yes,
that is a valid (and much used in some circles in Brazil) translation
of the Hebrew that is often translated “mercy.” How
would it change our work, our vision of what is necessary, and
even our notion of charity if we acted in terms of solidarity?
If I were suffering deprivation, mercy wouldn’t cut it,
but solidarity—now that just might!
One final thought: Last October, a group of 30 Presbyterian Women
(and one man) visited Brazil on their Global Exchange trip. Through
contact with that group I was invited to take products made by
women at CISM to the Churchwide Gathering in early July in Louisville.
These are beautifully sewn and woven products made by a group
of prostitutes who are trying to develop alternative sources of
income. I hope to see many Presbyterians at the Gathering, and
hope that you who are able to come will consider supporting the
efforts of these Brazilian women.
Until July,
Linnis
The 2006 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
45
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