Dear friends and family,
“Recuerda que eres polvo, y a polvo volverás.” These are the words Father
Walter used on Ash Wednesday as he smeared an earthen cross on our foreheads. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” During Lent, we prepare for Pascua (Resurrection Sunday) by humbly recognizing that we are made of little more than dirt, water, and light. All our relationships, pleasures, and struggles are stored in these soft, temporary bodies. Knowing that language students, beggars, rock stars, janitors, and politicians are all made of the same soil reminds me of the universal brother- & sisterhood of humankind. It gives me a good feeling.
Yet human society is divided in so many ways. One of the first things we noticed upon moving to Bolivia was all the walls in the city. On top they are lined with barbed wire, an electric fence, or broken glass. They send a clear sign that only certain people are allowed within. I’m glad to feel so safe within these walls, but over time they can become dangerous. People that can afford to have walls and keys can isolate themselves from those on the outside, the people who make their living in the street – a poor farmer hoping to sell a few potatoes to raise money for his daughters’ school supplies, a single mother who sells her body to pay the rent, a gang of orphans who are again looking for somewhere to sleep. We often pass by beggars – in the street, outside restaurants, and at the door of the church. For those who follow the way of Jesus, these folks are the treasure of the church, like the beggar Lazarus, whom the Rich Man ignored day after day (Luke 16:19-31).
Last night, Becky and I went out with some friends to a collection of food stalls in a nearby park. It’s a cheap, tasty place that people of all social classes visit. Like nearly every day, we turned down yet another child who was begging. On the way home, Becky said to me, “I can’t take it anymore. I know we can’t start a ministry, or volunteer at another place, but I have to do something for them. A blanket, a meal, anything.” In her desire and frustration, I saw God’s intention for every one of his very fragile, dust-y children – to stay near the streets. Some serve in full-time compassion ministries, others move to the inner cities or impoverished countryside, still more take short term trips or head down to the soup kitchen on Tuesdays. The forms change over time, but our vocation remains the same – to be right there at the point of pain, stepping out from behind our walls. When we can’t count among our friends a single poor person, addict, or orphan, when we can’t remember the last time we gave freely to someone in need, when our bank account hits zero from the purchase of the latest “wall” – then, like the Rich Man, we should repent in ashes and beg forgiveness from our poor brother Lazarus. He is God-in-disguise, there for us, and we for him.
Thoughts for Prayer:
* Our new business enterprise for the women we serve – Suti Sana – just launched in El Alto. Pray that it will be used as an instrument of liberation.
*We’re about halfway done with language school – pray for patience and diligence in study.
*We are in need of more regular monthly financial support from individuals and churches.
May we all find a way to stay near the streets.
– Adam (and Becky) Thada