We had been in our home stay for a week before Rose let me know that most of the family members were only eating two small meals a day. It was hard to keep track of such things in a two-story home with 17 extended family members from three different nuclear families. They were giving us three good meals every day, and at least some family members were always eating with us. But Rose started talking to one of the daughters about her daily eating habits, and came to realize that part of the reason they always shuffled us between the two different eating areas and had us eating each meal with different people was because there wasn’t enough food for many of the family members to eat three meals. This thought affected me a lot, and I started eating less every meal so there would be more left over (though making sure to compliment the food a ton still so they wouldn’t think I didn’t like it!). A few times this left me quite hungry long before the next meal came around, but it honestly wasn’t much of a burden at all.
I have rarely suffered for others. It was only in Lent of this year that I began experimenting with going hungry occasionally for the sake of other people. I have fasted regularly in the past, but for my own spiritual growth or as a corporate Church discipline. What would it mean to go hungry sometimes not because I lacked the money, but because I desired to give it to someone who goes hungry far more often than myself? What would it mean to stop buying all the extra food I don’t need – desserts, bottled drinks, soft drinks, coffees, fast food, restaurant food, anything else expensive – and use the savings to help those who don’t get their basic nutrition? I think that giving up most of these things is not really suffering, since I’ll probably feel better without them, but might it be worth testing whether I can do it even to the point of just a tiny bit of suffering?
What does it feel like to not eat every time I am hungry? Like I said, I’ve only started doing this a few months ago, and only in little bits and pieces. But I think it’s really important, and my experience in the slums here makes me want to stretch it further. When families who only eat two small meals a day take you into their homes and keep generously feeding you three, it makes you think twice about all the stuff you eat that you don’t need.
p.s. – The communities I’ve been living in for the past several weeks are current celebrating Ramadan (“Ramzan” here). Their fasting this month inspired one of my friends here in the slum to fast for 24 hours each week himself – not in religious solidarity with his Muslim friends, but in practical solidarity with those he knows who do not have enough to eat. He is 14 years old. He also has been a vegetarian for several years now in part due to concerns over world poverty and the amount of land use/grain feed it takes to support animal consumption, and he once inspired his family to live an entire month on the same $110 budget as their poor neighbors. This is the different perspective on life that growing up among the half of the world in poverty gives you. How many kids his age could grow up among the constant American messages of “eat eat eat! drink drink drink! Consume consume consume!” and hold onto enough perspective to make the same sacrifices?
I have rarely suffered for others. It was only in Lent of this year that I began experimenting with going hungry occasionally for the sake of other people. I have fasted regularly in the past, but for my own spiritual growth or as a corporate Church discipline. What would it mean to go hungry sometimes not because I lacked the money, but because I desired to give it to someone who goes hungry far more often than myself? What would it mean to stop buying all the extra food I don’t need – desserts, bottled drinks, soft drinks, coffees, fast food, restaurant food, anything else expensive – and use the savings to help those who don’t get their basic nutrition? I think that giving up most of these things is not really suffering, since I’ll probably feel better without them, but might it be worth testing whether I can do it even to the point of just a tiny bit of suffering?
What does it feel like to not eat every time I am hungry? Like I said, I’ve only started doing this a few months ago, and only in little bits and pieces. But I think it’s really important, and my experience in the slums here makes me want to stretch it further. When families who only eat two small meals a day take you into their homes and keep generously feeding you three, it makes you think twice about all the stuff you eat that you don’t need.
p.s. – The communities I’ve been living in for the past several weeks are current celebrating Ramadan (“Ramzan” here). Their fasting this month inspired one of my friends here in the slum to fast for 24 hours each week himself – not in religious solidarity with his Muslim friends, but in practical solidarity with those he knows who do not have enough to eat. He is 14 years old. He also has been a vegetarian for several years now in part due to concerns over world poverty and the amount of land use/grain feed it takes to support animal consumption, and he once inspired his family to live an entire month on the same $110 budget as their poor neighbors. This is the different perspective on life that growing up among the half of the world in poverty gives you. How many kids his age could grow up among the constant American messages of “eat eat eat! drink drink drink! Consume consume consume!” and hold onto enough perspective to make the same sacrifices?