Left: Classroom pic from school run by the Episcopal Anglican Church in Goiania, Brazil for poor children.
In the suffrages recited during morning prayer we pray " Let not the needy, O Lord, be forgotten; nor the hope of the poor be taken away."
Lately I have been chewing over in my mind these wonderful phrases from the Book of Common Prayer and, especially, thinking about what constitutes the "hope of the poor."
At first glance, this should be a no-brainer for me. Since I spent several years in the mid-Sixties living in a Brazilian favela and since much of my professional life was spent working with marginalized groups in Africa, you would think that I could articulate what is the hope of the poor in some credible way. Even now, in retirement, I live in one of Indianapolis' poorest areas.
One of the first things that I realize is that the poor do, in fact, hope. They may hope for something big, like better days ahead. Or they may hope for something more specific, like a nice backpack to take to school. They may sometimes hope for massive political change that will recognize their existence and their aspirations. No doubt, this is part of the great political dramas of our times in Gaza or Brazil with the election of President Lula or here in the USA with the election of Barack Obama.
As I am writing these reflections, the health care debate is focused on the US Senate. Even though we do not often see the poor on TV discussing health care, it seems reasonable to assume that they are hoping that something comes from all of the talk and posturing of both parties that will benefit their lives.
Sometimes the hopes of the poor are cast as dreams for this world. This is one way of reading the United Nations Milennium Development Goals inspired by the great economist Jeffrey Sachs. Obtainable or not, the idea of the concrete possibility of the eradication of poverty is powerful in itself.
Some years back we used to hear more of "theologies of hope" and we were often pointed to German theologian Jurgen Moltmann. Theologies of hope live in synergistic relationship to the theologies of liberation. . . . they may give theological articulation of the yearnings of the marginalized and take communities of faith into unknown territory. For example, if it is true that poverty is not an individual moral flaw but a structural element in the human polity, how should churches and faith communities respond?
Hope is never an illusion. Hope may be the motor that causes either an individual or a whole group to move to new realizations. Hope is not distributed, like some scarce commodity, to just the middle classes and rich (who, curiously, are often victims of hopelessness about their own lives and who live out post-modern ennui). It is a part of the human condition, part of how all humans--poor and rich--are wired.
Which brings me to the answer to my question: What constitutes the hope of the poor? The hope of the poor is whatever makes them think or believe that a better or more just time is ahead or obtainable. If this hope is "taken away" then part of their humanity itself has been taken away.
More of our involvement with the poor should be in listening to their hopes, sharing in their dreams.
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