The Paradox of a Country of Rich Christians

There was a gate the stood tall at the entrance of the home of a wealthy man. Ok, let's call it a picket fence. Ornate, well constructed, sparing no expense in the quality. Also, a fair warning to all would be criminals is posted to announce the brand of home security one would encounter upon breaking in. This man is not alone. He has a nice family- a beautiful, young ambitious wife and two children. They smile at most people. The children have learned by their parents' example how to look at a person and know whether they should smile, wave and grovle, or if they are not worthy of the groveling just to do the others, or if they are ok to look at but are not required to acknowledge and also whether they should ignore the person (because "you just never know about some people"). They have a large collection of encyclopedias, children's books, board games, movies, statuetts and figurines (many of beatiful angels with large spread wings). One wall is entirely comsumed by towers of new electronic equipent- plasma screen TV, a DVD/VCR player, an XBox 360 (the XBox is in the closet), a stellite TV system. The kitchen is overflowing with food; much is thrown out daily (it's hard to know just how much to buy or who's going to want what each night so it's better just to get a little more that way everybody's satisfied- you know how it is). The mother encourages the kids to clean their plates and be thankful for what they have and when they don't the boy points out that they can't possibly send their scraps in a box to where the hungry people are (it's a place they've never seen and for all they know it doesn't really exist, where people are always hungry but never suffer from it and they never die from this hunger). I could go on about how the man hates his job, often is distracted by other women at his work and buys his wife jewelry to assuage his guilt, in adition to his "love"-ly multi-thousand dollar symbol of his undying affections. They go to a builing once a week with other peolpe- people very similar to them because you don't want to stand out. It's two hours out of their week, but during that time they act very differently...

But there's a poor man outside of his fence. Oh, wait, no he's not. He was there actually, but the neighborhood is what we would call "well-to-do" and a polite neighbor (very polite- she always uses her best silver when entertaining her friends for a dinner party and stands by the words "what's mine is yours") had already done well to notify a security officer that there was a vagrant outside on their street and, "Lord knows what he might be up to," she said never letting go of her little silver cross she wore on her necklage and never took off except to shower.

He'll stay one night in jail. At least he'll get fed. And when three o'clock in the morning comes he won't be cold and the dew won't set on him. Tonight. But when they give him his freedom tomorrow... oh well.

How foolish we are to suppose that following in the footsteps of the rich man and completely ignore our own Lazarus won't bring us the same results. When did we become so blind to see that we live in a land of princes, and "middle class" is by all means rich and if we go worldwide, even just below "poverty line" is good enough to be considered wealthy. And then to believe that there's nothing you can do or that some one else should- remember that brokedown system of welfare when you're in need of a little relief- even just one drop of cool water on your tongue. Loving your neigbor to no end could very well drive you to poverty. But heaven is for the rich, too, no? Have you ever seen what happens to a camel when you pass it's body through a space about as large as the eye of a needle? No need for a metaphor- it's a grueling task. What comes out the other side is a bloody mess, the bones in shards and somewhat ground to a powder.