SAUCIER — Cry of the poor

“There is your brother, naked and crying. And you stand confused over the choice of an attractive floor covering.”

It sounds like the guilt-riding rant of an activist. In fact, the words belong to Ambrose, the fourth-century saint of whom the emperor said: “I know no bishop worthy of the name except Ambrose.”

In Ambrose’s time, the population of the planet was less than 200 million, a fraction of the (7.9) billion of today. Most lived in rural areas and were at least fed from their fields, except when starved by weather and war.

Today, Ambrose’s world would fit into our 10 largest cities, and all would have to buy their daily bread.

Just as Jesus promised, the poor are still with us — even more so. A staggering billion live on $1 a day or less. If one man’s cheeseburger and fries is another man’s weekly wage, hunger should be no surprise, but it is still a secret many find comfortable to keep.

In an average world, one of my children would be destitute and four of my nieces and nephews would be chronically undernourished.

But the world is neither average nor fair, and the table always seems to tip toward us.

It is not the food or the distribution; we have the means for both. It really comes down to how much plenty will suffice.

Most are a generous sort, willing to extend the hand of charity, if not the arm of justice.

Still, before we do what we can, we might consider just what it is that we can.

We can figure our giving in QuickBooks, but only the Good Book will put it in the balance of faith, allowing the needs of others to be weighed in relation to our own.

Your answer will be different than mine, and neither will be final. There will always be tension when it comes to the cry of the poor.

Ambrose just reminds us that if we are stressing out between the Travertine tile and the Berber wool while Lazarus is a paver on our walk, it’s time to do a little less shopping and a little more sharing.

A version of this reflection was originally published in the July 10, 2009, edition of The Catholic Missourian.