The following is taken from the 2024 ELCA World Hunger Lent Study. The full resource can be ordered as a hardcopy or downloaded as a PDF in English or Spanish at the link here.

Week 3 — Crucifixion Exodus

•••

Exodus 20:1-17

Psalm 19

1 Corinthians 1:18-25

John 2:13-22

“We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.”

 —1 Corinthians 1:23

In this week of Lent, having reflected on encountering God in reconciliation and in transfiguration, we turn toward Paul’s message of “Christ crucified” and reflect on what it means to encounter God in crucifixion, to be confronted with our own participation in systemic oppression.

Founded in 1888, Bethlehem Lutheran Church in the Central City neighborhood of New Orleans, La., is the oldest historically Black ELCA congregation in the continental United States. The church has a long legacy of responding to the needs of its members and neighbors. One way Bethlehem carries on that legacy is through the Community Table, a feeding ministry that provides free, no-questions-asked gourmet meals every week. This ministry, which is supported by ELCA World Hunger, helps to meet the need for food in Central City. The median household income in Bethlehem’s ZIP code is slightly more than $26,189, less than one-third of the median household income in the United States ($69,021 at the time of writing). More than 15% of the people in Orleans Parish are food-insecure.

With so many workers relying on the city’s tourism and hospitality industry, Bethlehem Lutheran saw a rapid increase in the number of people needing food during the COVID-19 pandemic. Working with partners, the Community Table was able to expand, and by this spring it was providing a free lunch four times a week, serving over 600 meals weekly. As the need has increased, Bethlehem Lutheran has been able to meet it.

A key leader in helping the Community Table and Bethlehem respond during and after the pandemic was Chef De, who planned, coordinated, supervised, cooked and served hundreds of meals for people who came to the Table. “I don’t think Bethlehem would have made it through the pandemic if it were not for Chef De,” says the Rev. Ben Groth, pastor of Bethlehem Lutheran. “And I also believe it to be true that many of our neighbors would not have made it without her, too.”

As noted by Mike Scott, a writer for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, the Central City neighborhood has a long, rich history: it is home to New Zion Baptist Church, where the Southern Christian Leadership Conference was formally incorporated. Yet, as Scott also writes, by the early 2000s, Central City had become “defined [by some people] by its crime rate” and its “crushing poverty.”[1]

Some people might easily let the community’s present challenges define its future. We see this often when cities are dealing with statistically high rates of poverty, food insecurity or crime. Outsiders looking in dismiss such neighborhoods as nothing more than their statistics or decide they must be “saved” by the decisive action of political leaders.

Journeying together through Lent, we are invited to consider what it means for us today that God’s son was crucified 2,000 years ago. Lent has often been a season for us to take stock of our own sinfulness and need for repentance. In many ways the cross is a mirror, reflecting back to us our entanglement in sin. Yet the cross is also a lens, a way of perceiving and apprehending the world. All too frequently during Lent, we lose sight of the latter aspect.

As a lens, the cross shapes how we understand ourselves, our world and our communities. It reminds us that God is present in Jesus’ suffering and death on the cross. This doesn’t mean that suffering or death are God’s work or that there is something redemptive in suffering or death. Quite the contrary: a cross-shaped (cruciform) lens compels us to recognize suffering for what it is, to name it and confront it.

This is the foolishness Paul describes in his letter to the Corinthians. Who would ever recognize God in the broken, pierced and dying body of Christ? Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoyevsky, upon seeing a painting of a dead Christ, is reported to have remarked to his wife that such a painting could cause one to lose their faith. This is what Paul means, in part, by the “foolishness” of the message of the cross (1 Corinthians 1:18). To preach the message of Christ crucified is foolishness to those who cannot fathom the presence of divinity within frailty or weakness, who cannot comprehend God as both actor and victim.

Yet that is precisely what the cross demands of us. To preach Christ crucified, to journey through Lent to the cross, is to bind ourselves to honesty, to the sort of truth-telling that names suffering and injustice for what they are yet still affirms the presence of God. For Central City and Bethlehem Lutheran Church, the message of Christ crucified affirms that stories of poverty or hunger aren’t the only stories being written or told in the community. It may be foolishness to those on the outside looking in, but it is gospel truth for those who encounter God at a community table where neighbors prepare, provide and share meals.

To encounter God within the crucifixion is to be reminded that we cannot ignore the truth of suffering, hunger, poverty, violence, death and injustice in a world still waiting for the fullness of the reign of God. But to encounter God in this event is to be radically open to God’s presence in this same as-yet-incomplete world. It is to seek God within our communities and one another, even as the world declares this seeking to be “foolishness.” It is to affirm with faithful certainty that in the stories of our neighbors and neighborhoods, God is being revealed to us in sometimes new and surprising ways.

Reflection Questions

What do you think Paul means by “foolishness”?

How does your perception of Central City or your own community change when you look at them through a cross-shaped lens?

In what new or unexpected ways have you encountered God, especially as you faced your own “crosses”?

What might it mean to “bind ourselves to honesty, to the sort of truth-telling that names suffering and injustice for what they are yet still affirms the presence of God”?

Semana 3 — Crucifixión

•••

Éxodo 20:1-17

Salmo 19

1 Corintios 1:18-25

Juan 2:13-22

“Mientras que nosotros predicamos a Cristo crucificado. Este mensaje es motivo de tropiezo para los judíos y es locura para los no judíos”. —1 Corintios 1:23

En esta semana de Cuaresma, después de haber reflexionado sobre el encuentro con Dios en la reconciliación y en la transfiguración, nos dirigimos hacia el mensaje de Pablo de “Cristo crucificado” y reflexionamos sobre lo que significa encontrar a Dios en la crucifixión, para ser confrontados con nuestra propia participación en la opresión sistémica.

Fundada en 1888, Bethlehem Lutheran Church [Iglesia Luterana Belén] en el vecindario de Central City de Nueva Orleans, Luisiana, es la congregación históricamente negra de la ELCA más antigua de los Estados Unidos continentales. La iglesia tiene un largo legado de responder a las necesidades de sus miembros y vecinos. Una de las formas en que Bethlehem continúa con ese legado es a través de Community Table [Mesa Comunitaria], un ministerio de alimentación que todas las semanas ofrece comidas gourmet gratuitas y sin hacer preguntas. Este ministerio, que cuenta con el respaldo de ELCA World Hunger, ayuda a satisfacer la necesidad de comida en Central City. El ingreso familiar promedio en el código postal de Bethlehem es un poco más de $ 26,189, menos de un tercio del ingreso familiar promedio en los Estados Unidos ($ 69,021 en el momento de escribir este artículo). Más del 15% de las personas en Orleans Parish sufren inseguridad alimentaria.

Con tantos trabajadores que dependen de la industria del turismo y la hospitalidad de la ciudad, Bethlehem Lutheran vio un rápido aumento en el número de personas que necesitaban comida durante la pandemia de COVID-19. Al trabajar con socios, Community Table pudo expandirse, y para esta primavera estaba dando un almuerzo gratis cuatro veces a la semana, sirviendo más de 600 comidas semanales. A medida que la necesidad ha aumentado, Bethlehem Lutheran ha sido capaz de satisfacerla.

Una líder clave que ayudó a Community Table y a Bethlehem a responder durante y después de la pandemia fue la chef De, quien planificó, coordinó, supervisó, cocinó y sirvió cientos de comidas para las personas que vinieron a la mesa. “No creo que Bethlehem hubiera sobrevivido a la pandemia si no fuera por la chef De”, dice el reverendo Ben Groth, pastor de Bethlehem Lutheran. “Y también creo que es cierto que muchos de nuestros vecinos no lo habrían logrado sin ella.

Como señaló Mike Scott, escritor de New Orleans Times-Picayune, el vecindario de Central City tiene una larga y rica historia: es el hogar de la Iglesia Bautista New Zion [Nueva Sión], donde se incorporó formalmente la Southern Christian Leadership Conference [Conferencia de Liderazgo Cristiano del Sur]. Sin embargo, como también escribe Scott, a principios de la década de 2000, Central City había llegado a ser “definida [por algunas personas] por su tasa de criminalidad” y su “pobreza aplastante”.[1]

Algunas personas podrían dejar que los desafíos actuales de la comunidad definan su futuro. A menudo vemos esto cuando las ciudades se enfrentan a tasas estadísticamente altas de pobreza, inseguridad alimentaria o delincuencia. Las personas externas que miran hacia adentro desestiman esos barrios como nada más que sus estadísticas o deciden que deben ser “salvados” por la acción decisiva de los líderes políticos.

En nuestra jornada juntos durante la Cuaresma se nos invita a considerar lo que significa para nosotros hoy que el hijo de Dios fue crucificado hace 2,000 años. La Cuaresma ha sido a menudo una temporada para que hagamos un balance de nuestra propia pecaminosidad y necesidad de arrepentimiento. En muchos sentidos, la cruz es un espejo que nos refleja nuestra participación en el pecado. Sin embargo, la cruz es también una lente, una forma de percibir y aprehender el mundo. Con demasiada frecuencia, durante la Cuaresma perdemos de vista este último aspecto.

Como lente, la cruz moldea la forma en que nos entendemos a nosotros mismos, a nuestro mundo y a nuestras comunidades. Nos recuerda que Dios está presente en el sufrimiento y la muerte de Jesús en la cruz. Esto no significa que el sufrimiento o la muerte sean obra de Dios o que haya un elemento redentor en el sufrimiento o la muerte. Todo lo contrario; una lente en forma de cruz (cruciforme) nos obliga a reconocer el sufrimiento por lo que es, a nombrarlo y enfrentarlo.

Esta es la locura que Pablo describe en su carta a los Corintios. ¿Quién reconocería a Dios en el cuerpo quebrantado, traspasado y moribundo de Cristo? Se dice que el novelista ruso Fiódor Dostoievski, al ver una pintura de Cristo muerto, le comentó a su esposa que tal pintura podría hacer que uno perdiera la fe. Esto es lo que Pablo quiere decir, en parte, con la “locura” del mensaje de la cruz (1 Corintios 1:18). Predicar el mensaje de Cristo crucificado es una locura para aquellos que no pueden comprender la presencia de la divinidad dentro de la fragilidad o la debilidad; que no pueden comprender a Dios como actor y víctima.

Sin embargo, eso es precisamente lo que la cruz exige de nosotros. Predicar a Cristo crucificado, caminar a través de la Cuaresma hasta la cruz, es comprometerse con la honestidad, con el tipo de verdad que llama el sufrimiento y la injusticia por lo que son, pero que aun así afirma la presencia de Dios. Para Central City y Bethlehem Lutheran Church, el mensaje de Cristo crucificado afirma que las historias de pobreza o hambre no son las únicas historias que se escriben o cuentan en la comunidad. Para las personas externas que miran hacia adentro puede ser una tontería, pero es la verdad del evangelio para aquellos que se encuentran con Dios en una mesa comunitaria donde los vecinos preparan, proveen y comparten comidas.

Encontrar a Dios en la crucifixión es recordar que no podemos ignorar la verdad del sufrimiento, el hambre, la pobreza, la violencia, la muerte y la injusticia en un mundo que todavía espera la plenitud del reino de Dios. Pero encontrar a Dios en este evento es estar radicalmente abierto a la presencia de Dios en este mismo mundo aún incompleto. Es buscar a Dios dentro de nuestras comunidades y entre nosotros, incluso cuando el mundo declara que esta búsqueda es una “locura”. Es afirmar con fiel certeza que, en las historias de nuestros vecinos y vecindarios, Dios se nos está revelando de maneras a veces nuevas y sorprendentes.

[1] Mike Scott, “A Brief History of Central City, the Forsaken Heart of New Orleans,” Nola.com, July 12, 2019, tinyurl.com/mpks2x8m.

[1] Mike Scott, “A Brief History of Central City, the Forsaken Heart of New Orleans” [Breve historia de Central City, el corazón abandonado de Nueva Orleans] Nola. com, 12 de julio de 2019, tinyurl.com/mpks2x8m

As ELCA World Hunger celebrates its 50th year pursuing God’s promise of a just world, we invite you to join us, beginning by sharing this video with your communities, families, and friends.

The following is taken from the 2024 ELCA World Hunger Lent Study. The full resource can be ordered as a hardcopy or downloaded as a PDF in English or Spanish at the link here.

Week 2 — Transfiguration

•••

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Psalm 22:23-31
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38 or Mark 9:2-9

This week in Lent we continue exploring the places and moments in which we encounter God, reflecting on transfiguration as recounted in Mark 9:2-9. Here God’s manifest presence before the disciples demonstrates God’s presence in the life of creation, especially in times of injustice.

“Transfiguration” is an odd word telling an odd story. The word comes from two Latin roots — “trans,” meaning “across,” and “figura,” meaning “shape” — so it indicates a change in shape or form. Its occurrence in this week’s reading from Mark is one of the few times it appears in the Christian Scriptures.

The story is a little strange. Jesus takes Peter, James and John up a mountain. There he is revealed in all his glory, in dazzling clothes, with the spirits of Elijah and Moses beside him and God claiming him as God’s own son. Curiously, this experience of Jesus’ divine glory occurs immediately after his long speech about the suffering he will soon endure on the cross. Is it any wonder the disciples are depicted as confused?

Peter is often portrayed in the gospels as well-intentioned but foolish, a far cry from the confident leader he will become in the early church. In Mark’s story, Peter just doesn’t get it. Amid this mystical experience on a mountaintop, Peter, like some rabid suburban developer, suggests, “Hey, let’s build some houses and just stay.”

But Peter may not be quite as dense as we readers first assume. Peter is the one who reminds us that, even during a mountaintop experience, we never cease to be human. Peter is the one who says, “Jesus, I know your clothes are all shiny, and it looks like you got some ghosts with you, and yeah, I hear God talking, too, but we’re all up on top of a mountain right now, and if we’re going to spend any time here, we’re going to need some shelter.” Peter’s reaction isn’t one of fear or stupidity. It’s the reaction of a human being who can’t forget the physical realities that continually impinge on even the deepest spiritual moments.

Like Peter, we are confronted by physical realities that we cannot ignore, even as we experience a profound spiritual crisis of yearning for the day when God will wipe away every tear from our eyes. Like Peter on the mountain, we need to be brought into that ecstatic reality where the presence of God among us is revealed. But also like Peter, we can’t just stay in that moment, ignoring the reality of lived, physical need. We must have a different kind of faith, a faith that refuses to separate transfiguration from transformation, to ignore people around us who are assailed by injustice, disease and violence. We need a faith that captivates, motivates and activates us to respond boldly and recklessly when God invites us to be part of the transformation being enacted for all creation. In the event of transfiguration we encounter God where the physical and the spiritual intersect. New Testament scholar Dorothy Lee puts it well:

[T]he transfiguration is not an other-worldly narrative, disconnected from the body and ordinary human experience. On the contrary, it is precisely Jesus’ transfigured body that discloses the face of God and the hope of God’s future. … The transfiguration on the mountain is the meeting-place between human beings and God, between the temporal and the eternal … between everyday human life — with all its hopes and fears — and the mystery of God.[1]

Peter’s suggestion of building shelters doesn’t seem all that far[1]fetched when we recognize that Jesus never ceases to be a physical human being, even as the transfiguration discloses him as also divine. Peter isn’t missing the story. According to Lee, the story is really about him — and us.

To encounter God in transfiguration is to experience those moments when our perception is opened up radically to the presence of God in our midst. Jesus’ transfigured body births a transfigured faith — a faith that holds in tension the holy and the ordinary, the spiritual and the physical. The story of the transfiguration in Mark isn’t the story of Jesus experiencing his own divinity. Nor is it the story of some important consultation Jesus had with Moses and Elijah. We don’t even know what they said! Rather it is the story of the disciples encountering God in their own physical midst, represented by Jesus’ body and clothing, and in their own history, as represented by Moses and Elijah. It is the story of a faith that opens them to encounter God in their past, present and future, as Lee suggests.

What does this mean for us today? What does it mean to live with a transfigured faith? For over three years Church World Service (CWS), with support from ELCA World Hunger, has provided child protection services to unaccompanied children in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Living in a foreign land without parents or relatives by their side, these vulnerable children are on a difficult journey, trying to reach a better future. Many of them have come to live by a simple but devastating principle: “Do not trust people.” They build walls around themselves to keep safe from those who would take advantage of them, but these walls also bring anxiety, depression and a deep skepticism of adults or agencies trying to help them.

One of the youth helped by CWS is Ahmed (name changed for privacy). Ahmed left his home in Burundi two years ago, relying on money his parents had raised for him to travel to Croatia. When CWS met him, he had been living in Bosnia and Herzegovina for almost a year. “I left with six friends, all from Burundi,” he says. “We watched hungry people every day [in Burundi], and we were among them. I am the oldest, so I am responsible for my brothers. My father is sick, so he cannot work. I need to help them.”

Along the way Ahmed faced steep challenges, including physical violence and intimidation by police at the Croatian border. “Go back where you came from!” they yelled as they pushed him. “How can I go back,” Ahmed says, “when my family’s survival depends on me going forward?”

Ahmed’s story is, tragically, not unique. Like many others, he carries the weight of his journey, his yearning for home and his frustrated hope for a future in Europe. By the time CWS staff met him, Ahmed was making his ninth attempt to enter Croatia. After providing him with whatever help they could, they watched him go, hoping that, this time, the journey would be successful.

A transfigured faith — shaped by an encounter with the God who transforms our world and our perspective — changes us. To encounter Jesus transfigured is to remember that God has entered human history, that God plays a role in the story of unaccompanied children. But encountering Jesus transfigured also means remembering the physical as well as the spiritual, to say, with Peter, “We should build some shelter here.” Ahmed’s fears and disappointment don’t vanish just because God is part of his story. Nor are Ahmed’s tired feet miraculously soothed.

To carry a transfigured faith into the world, to bear witness to our encounter with God in transfiguration, impels us radically outward to seek God in the real people and events around us. This faith is grounded in the belief that God is present with us through the Galilean carpenter — and through a Burundian child. All too often, migrants such as Ahmed are viewed as nothing more than a burden or an intrusion: “Go back where you came from!” he was told. Yet a transfigured faith reminds us that our neighbors are more than burdens or disturbances, more than even their own need; to us they are the presence of God, just as we are to one another.

Encountering God in transfiguration is more than an odd event on a mountaintop 2,000 years ago. God transfigures our faith and perception, opening us to recognize God in our neighbors and to perceive God active in our history. After Peter, James and John reach the mountaintop, there is no going back. Jesus is no ordinary teacher they are following. This is something new, something miraculously and wonderfully different. Here is the unveiling of divinity, transforming their lives and how they view the world.

As we journey together spiritually through Lent, let us do so with a transfigured faith, remembering the difficult, dangerous, physical journeys so many of our neighbors are on and remembering our call to be present with them and one another, to be changed by the presence of God within them.

Reflection Questions

How would you have reacted if you were on the mountain with Peter, James and John?

With the transfiguration of Jesus, the disciples come to see Christ’s divinity. How might this have changed their understanding of what it meant to be a disciple?

How does a transfigured faith, recognizing the ways God is present in our world and one another, change us?

How can the church confront and change people’s negative perception of neighbors such as Ahmed? What difference might this make?

Semana 2 — Transfiguración

•••

Génesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Salmo 22:23-31
Romanos 4:13-25
Marcos 8:31-38 o Marcos 9:2-9

Esta semana de la Cuaresma seguimos explorando los lugares y momentos en los que nos encontramos con Dios, y reflexionamos sobre la transfiguración tal y como se relata en Marcos 9:2-9. Aquí la presencia manifiesta de Dios ante los discípulos demuestra la presencia de Dios en la vida de la creación, especialmente en tiempos de injusticia.

“Transfiguración” es una palabra extraña que cuenta una historia extraña. La palabra proviene de dos raíces latinas: “trans”, que significa “a través”, y “figura”, que significa “forma”, por lo que indica un cambio en el aspecto o la forma. Su aparición en la lectura de Marcos de esta semana es una de las pocas veces que aparece en las escrituras cristianas.

La historia es un poco extraña. Jesús lleva a Pedro, Santiago y Juan a una montaña. Allí se revela en toda su gloria, con ropas deslumbrantes, con los espíritus de Elías y Moisés a su lado y Dios lo reclama como su propio hijo. Curiosamente, esta experiencia de la gloria divina de Jesús ocurre inmediatamente después de haber dado su largo discurso sobre el sufrimiento que pronto soportará en la cruz. ¿Es de extrañar que los discípulos sean representados como confundidos?

Con frecuencia Pedro es representado en los evangelios como bien intencionado pero tonto, muy distinto del líder seguro en el que se convertiría en la iglesia primitiva. En el relato de Marcos, Pedro simplemente no entiende. En medio de esta experiencia mística en la cima de una montaña, Pedro, como un entusiasta desarrollador suburbano, sugiere: “Oye, construyamos algunas casas y quedémonos”.

Pero es posible que Pedro no sea tan bobo como los lectores asumimos en un principio. Él es quien nos recuerda que, incluso durante una experiencia en la cima de una montaña, nunca dejamos de ser humanos. Pedro es el que dice: “Jesús, sé que tu ropa es resplandeciente, y parece que contigo hay algunos fantasmas, y sí, también oigo a Dios hablar, pero en este momento todos estamos en la cima de una montaña, y si vamos a pasar algún tiempo aquí, vamos a necesitar un albergue”. La reacción de Pedro no es de temor ni estupidez. Es la reacción de un ser humano que no puede olvidar las realidades físicas que continuamente afectan aun los momentos espirituales más profundos.

Al igual que Pedro, nos enfrentamos a realidades físicas que no podemos ignorar, incluso cuando experimentamos una profunda crisis espiritual de anhelo por el día en que Dios enjugará toda lágrima de nuestros ojos. Al igual que Pedro en la montaña, necesitamos ser llevados a esa realidad extática donde la presencia de Dios se revela entre nosotros. Pero también, al igual que Pedro, no podemos quedarnos en ese momento e ignorar la realidad de la necesidad física vivida. Debemos tener un tipo de fe diferente, una fe que se niegue a separar la transfiguración de la transformación, a ignorar a las personas que nos rodean y que son asediadas por la injusticia, la enfermedad y la violencia. Necesitamos una fe que nos cautive, motive y active para responder con valor y audacia cuando Dios nos invita a ser parte de la transformación que se está llevando a cabo por toda la creación.

En el evento de la transfiguración nos encontramos con Dios donde lo físico y lo espiritual se cruzan. La erudita del Nuevo Testamento, Dorothy Lee, expresa esto muy bien:

[L]a transfiguración no es una narrativa de otro mundo, desconectada del cuerpo y de la experiencia humana ordinaria. Al contrario, es precisamente el cuerpo transfigurado de Jesús el que revela el rostro de Dios y la esperanza del futuro de Dios. … La transfiguración en la montaña es el lugar de encuentro entre los seres humanos y Dios, entre lo temporal y lo eterno… entre la vida humana cotidiana —con todas sus esperanzas y temores— y el misterio de Dios.[1]

La sugerencia de Pedro de levantar albergues no parece tan descabellada cuando reconocemos que Jesús nunca deja de ser un ser humano físico, incluso cuando la transfiguración lo revela como también divino. No es que Pedro se pierde la historia. Según Lee, la historia es realmente sobre él —y sobre nosotros.

Encontrarse con Dios en la transfiguración es experimentar esos momentos en los que nuestra percepción se abre radicalmente a la presencia de Dios en medio de nosotros. El cuerpo transfigurado de Jesús da a luz una fe transfigurada —una fe que mantiene en tensión lo santo y lo ordinario, lo espiritual y lo físico. El relato de la transfiguración en Marcos no se trata de la historia de Jesús que experimenta su propia divinidad. Tampoco es la historia de alguna consulta importante que Jesús tuvo con Moisés y Elías. ¡Ni siquiera sabemos lo que dijeron! Más bien es la historia de los discípulos que se encuentran con Dios en el propio medio físico de ellos, representado por el cuerpo y la ropa de Jesús, y en la propia historia de ellos, representada por Moisés y Elías. Es la historia de una fe que los dispone a encontrar a Dios en su pasado, presente y futuro, según sugiere Lee.

¿Qué significa esto para nosotros hoy? ¿Qué significa vivir con una fe transfigurada?

Por más de tres años, Church World Service (CWS), con el respaldo de ELCA World Hunger, ha prestado servicios de protección de menores a niños no acompañados en Bosnia y Herzegovina. Como viven en una tierra extranjera sin padres ni familiares a su lado, estos niños vulnerables atraviesan una jornada difícil, tratando de alcanzar un futuro mejor. Muchos de ellos han llegado a vivir según un principio simple pero devastador: “No confíes en la gente”. Levantan muros a su alrededor para mantenerse a salvo de aquellos que se aprovecharían de ellos, pero estos muros también conllevan ansiedad, depresión y un profundo escepticismo hacia los adultos o las agencias que intentan ayudarlos.

Uno de los jóvenes que CWS ayudó es Ahmed (su nombre fue cambiado por motivos de privacidad). Ahmed dejó su hogar en Burundi hace dos años, y confiaba en el dinero que sus padres habían recaudado para que viajara a Croacia. Cuando el CWS lo conoció, había estado viviendo en Bosnia y Herzegovina durante casi un año. “Me fui con seis amigos, todos de Burundi”, dice. “Observábamos a la gente hambrienta todos los días [en Burundi], y estábamos entre ellos. Soy el mayor, así que soy responsable de mis hermanos. Mi padre está enfermo, así que no puede trabajar. Tengo que ayudarlos”.

A lo largo del camino, Ahmed se enfrentó a grandes desafíos, como la violencia física y la intimidación por parte de la policía en la frontera croata. “¡Vuelve de donde viniste!” le gritaron mientras lo empujaban. “¿Cómo puedo volver –dice Ahmed– cuando la supervivencia de mi familia depende de que yo siga adelante?”

Trágicamente, la historia de Ahmed no es única. Como muchos otros, lleva el peso de su jornada, su añoranza del hogar y su esperanza frustrada de un futuro en Europa. En el momento en que el personal de CWS se reunió con él, Ahmed estaba haciendo su noveno intento de entrar en Croacia. Después de brindarle toda la ayuda que pudieron, lo vieron partir, con la esperanza de que, esta vez, el viaje fuera exitoso.

Una fe transfigurada, moldeada por un encuentro con el Dios que transforma nuestro mundo y nuestra perspectiva, nos cambia. Encontrar a Jesús transfigurado es recordar que Dios ha entrado en la historia humana, que Dios desempeña un papel en la historia de los niños no acompañados. Pero encontrarse con Jesús transfigurado significa también recordar lo físico y lo espiritual para decir con Pedro: “Debemos levantar aquí un albergue”. Los temores y la decepción de Ahmed no se desvanecen solo porque Dios es parte de su historia. Tampoco se calman milagrosamente los pies cansados de Ahmed.

Llevar al mundo una fe transfigurada, dar testimonio de nuestro encuentro con Dios en la transfiguración, nos impulsa radicalmente hacia afuera a buscar a Dios en las personas y en los acontecimientos reales que nos rodean. Esta fe se basa en la creencia de que Dios está presente con nosotros a través del carpintero galileo y a través de un niño burundés. Con demasiada frecuencia, los migrantes como Ahmed son vistos como una mera carga o una intrusión: “¡Vuelve de donde viniste!” le dijeron. Sin embargo, una fe transfigurada nos recuerda que nuestro prójimo es más que cargas o perturbaciones, más que incluso su propia necesidad; para nosotros son la presencia de Dios, así como nosotros lo somos los unos para los otros.

Encontrar a Dios en la transfiguración es más que un evento extraño en la cima de una montaña hace 2,000 años. Dios transfigura nuestra fe y percepción, poniéndonos dispuestos a reconocer a Dios en nuestro prójimo y a percibir a Dios activo en nuestra historia. Después de que Pedro, Santiago y Juan llegan a la cima de la montaña, no hay marcha atrás. Jesús no es un maestro ordinario al que siguen. Esto es algo nuevo, algo milagrosa y maravillosamente diferente. Aquí está la revelación de la divinidad, transformando sus vidas y su forma de ver el mundo.

Mientras caminamos juntos espiritualmente a través de la Cuaresma, hagámoslo con una fe transfigurada, recordando las jornadas difíciles, peligrosas y físicas que atraviesan muchos de nuestros vecinos y recordando nuestra llamada a estar presentes con ellos y entre nosotros, para ser cambiados por la presencia de Dios dentro de ellos.

Preguntas de reflexión

¿Cómo hubiera reaccionado usted si hubiese estado en la montaña con Pedro, Santiago y Juan?

Con la transfiguración de Jesús, los discípulos llegan a ver la divinidad de Cristo. ¿Cómo pudo esto haber cambiado su comprensión de lo que significa ser un discípulo?

¿Cómo nos cambia una fe transfigurada, que reconoce las formas en que Dios está presente en nuestro mundo y entre nosotros?

¿Cómo puede la iglesia confrontar y cambiar la percepción negativa de la gente hacia vecinos como Ahmed? ¿Qué diferencia podría marcar esto?

[1] Dorothy Lee, Transfiguration (New York: Continuum, 2004), 2.

[1] Dorothy Lee, Transfiguration [La Transfiguración] (New York: Continuum, 2004), 2.

Join us Tuesday Feb 27th at 8:00 pm ET/7:00 CT/6:00 MT/5:00 PT/4:00AK for film highlights & discussion with the filmmaker, John Feldman. You can view the trailer here.

Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem (ELCA)

For many U.S. residents reading this blog post, our ability to think soundly about the Israel-Hamas conflict has been consistently interrupted by waves of conflicting images and emotions: stories of trauma and grief from Israelis impacted by the Hamas attacks on their homes, followed almost immediately by accounts from Gaza of deaths; both moments of horror followed quickly by a outrage and ambivalence gestated over decades by a binary debate over U.S. involvement in the conflict. We can certainly feel tired to act when we pile onto these emotions the ways social media and cable news saturate our lives with every world event.

When, on the edge of exhaustion, it can be difficult to consider a Christian response, but Bishop Eaton has laid down a challenge to Lutherans: “God has called us to be a people who stand with others amid suffering.” From the Hunger Education desk, this notion boils down to two key words: scarcity and abundance. Indeed, confronted with death around the world we often turn to comfort in distractions. This is scarcity, the limitation of our own opportunity to seek justice for the other. But to see and read about 2 million people imprisoned and besieged in a warzone, while we as Western Christians have the ability to turn away? This is indeed a sign that we have the resources to participate in full, abundant life with and for our neighbors.

Both concepts have found voice for me in John 4:1-26, a moment in our Christian story when political divisions over who belongs momentarily paralyze recognition of basic human needs for sustenance and care. Both the current political discourse in the U.S. and the historical conflict between ancient Jews and Samaritans, start from an understanding that the neighbor should be mistrusted. And a mistrustful stance toward others means accepting that they don’t deserve our resources, that our abundance is, in fact, scarcity. But here, in John’s Gospel and in Gaza, we find an opportunity to view the need of the other as precisely the moment to act in accordance with our abundant life.

Mistrust, Scarcity, and Abundance in John 4:1-26

John 4:1-26’s relation here is not incidental: while on a much smaller in scale to the humanitarian disaster unfolding in Gaza, Jesus has a need for water—he had been traveling a long way and was thirsty (vv. 1-4). He asks a Samaritan woman approaching the well to draw water and she immediately draws the political battleline with a mistrustful interrogation: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria”; and the narrator puts the difference in bold, with, “Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans” (v. 9). Jesus is in need here and this woman has what he needs. Political differences allow her to defer or even avoid sharing the resources of her home in a moment of scarcity. Helpfully, though, this narrative opens with Jesus exposing his own vulnerability and need, and the woman eventually showing hers, making space for a gift of life-giving water, water that will end all thirst (v. 10-15).

Without a moment of vulnerability and tension, one that allows for the painful past and power politics to be exposed, we can lose sight of the real issue: abundant water. To this end, Bishop Eaton’s challenge to Lutherans to hold “tension between two truths” highlights the actual need for those of us with the privilege of resources, voice, and time: “God has called us to be a people who stand with others amid suffering.” The Samaritan woman faces a choice, as someone in need is before her face, at her very well—her home—in need of merely a drink. She can reinforce the scarcity illusion or she can stand in solidarity with another created person who needs sustenance as much as she does.

Partisan back-and-forth, “both sides are to blame” narratives, and public vitriol benefit people in power, because these things require little material resources of us as citizens: we can protect our common good(s) while blaming the other. Complaint and blame demand little of us, as Christians, while advocacy and activism require use of our resources and focus. Retreating to traditional lines of difference and tired tropes can feel easy, like reciting a script, but doing so also prevents those with privilege from seeing and treating the needs of the marginalized, the thirsty, and the hungry.

In moments of tension and discomfort, as John’s Gospel shows, we find opportunities for justice where those truly in need are seen, where myths of scarcity are banished in favor of abundance.

Abundance, Imagination, and Faith

In times and places like Israel and Palestine at this moment, belonging and hope can feel scarce. Israeli families killed in the private and public comforts of their daily lives or meant to feel fear in the very places they find routine; Palestinians killed from miles away, already imprisoned in a patch of land, under occupation, and invisible to those of us who fund Israeli bombs leveling their neighborhoods. Like many of us, I have come to understand home as something more complicated than the walls of a building—it has something more to do with the relationships, memories, and meaning that form around a particular place.

As Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb, president of Dar al-Kalima University of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem, reminds us, to call a place like Palestine home is fraught with mourning in this “battlefield for competing empires.”[1] That is, the bombs dropped on Gaza neighborhoods is both nothing new and the result of millennia of colonial ambitions in this area. Certainly, for those of us who live in relative peace and privilege, unconscious of the violence meted out by nation-states—even our own, funding decades of war in the Middle East—Rev. Dr. Raheb’s call might seem, at first, fatalistic and a call to give into scarcity.

Instead, Rev. Dr. Raheb calls back to the faithful imagination necessary to break out of the U.S.’s current stance of “managing conflict” in Israel and Palestine through Israeli military aid,[2] to the imagination called for by faith “to have life and have it abundantly.”[3] The current stance that prizes national security over the abundant life demanded by Palestinians under occupation is the same one that makes it acceptable to cut of 2 million Gazans from food, water, and energy—while killing thousands of people in Gaza. Scarcity means rocket attacks, terrorist killings, airstrikes, ground invasions, and imprisonment.

The Augusta Victoria Hospital on the Mount of Olives. Photo: Albin Hillert/Life on Earth

“Security” and its accompanying violence are parts of a scarcity value system, while belonging, memory, love, and care can exist only with abundant, imaginative, faithful life. There is always room for home. Ancestors “can worship on this mountain” and “in Jerusalem” (John 4:19). We can give water from a well and “water from a spring gushing up to eternal life” (4:14). When world leaders tell us, “Security first!” our Christian response must always start with life, and life abundantly.

And I hope you and your community can respond to the crisis emerging in Israel and Gaza with abundance—whatever that looks like. Here are some places to start:

The ELCA is curating opportunities to act with your abundance here. On this page, among other things, you can…

• Support Lutheran Disaster Response’ work on the ground with your financial gifts
• Join with other ELCA members and write to your representatives in Washington (head to this link), urging:
  • A cease-fire, de-escalation and restraint from all parties
  • That all parties to abide by the laws of war, including the Geneva Conventions, customary international law and international human rights law
  • Steps to secure immediate release of hostages and international protection for civilians.

Learning. We have numerous opportunities and a strong network of partners available to support your congregation’s reflection, discussion, and growth.

• Check out resources from the ELCA’s Peace not Walls network and begin the discussion about human rights and dignity in Palestine and Israel.
• Explore the work of our partner church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land (ELCJHL).
• Start a conversation with your congregation about adopting an abundance stance toward the economy and hunger with ELCA World Hunger’s “Hungering for Justice” study guide on Luther and the economy.
• Check out Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb’s book, Faith in the Face of Empire (the text I referenced above). It’s well-suited for congregational reading groups. Despite being written in 2014, reflecting on the Arab Spring, the book provides a prescient voice out of Palestine in this

Dr. Peter N. McLellan is the Program Director, Hunger Education with the ELCA’s Building Resilient Communities team.

[1] Mitri Raheb, Faith in the Face of Empire: The Bible through Palestinian Eyes (New York: Orbis, 2014), 5.

[2] Raheb, Faith, 125. The 2016 ELCA Churchwide Assembly resolved that all military aid to Israel must be conditioned on the observance of human rights (CA16.05.15).

[3] Raheb, Faith, 129.

For fifty years, we have stood together as Lutherans, taking action to address root causes of hunger and poverty around the world through ELCA World Hunger, grounded in God’s promise of a time when we will hunger and thirst no more. As part of the long tradition of the church meeting human needs, ELCA World Hunger is a testament to our hope and our commitment for this church to be part of God’s transformation of the world.

Today, we invite you to celebrate the 50th anniversary of ELCA World Hunger at the 2024 ELCA World Hunger Leadership Gathering. The Mary and Howie Wennes Hunger Leadership Endowment supports the gathering, established by the Wennes Family in 2016.

This signature event gathers ELCA World Hunger’s leaders for a time of networking, idea sharing, learning, and planning for our shared ministry to address hunger and its root causes in our local and global communities. Next year’s event, February 1-4, 2024, will center on 1 Peter 4:10 and the theme Embracing Hope – Taking Action – Moving Forward! We celebrate 50th years of God’s faithfulness!

Who is invited?

· Each synod is invited to bring up to three participants to the event.

· To reflect the diversity of our church, synods bringing three participants must ensure that at least one participant is a youth, young adult or person of color. A discounted registration rate will apply for the third representative.

· Former Hunger Advocacy Fellows.

· Big Dream Ministry Partners.

· Invited ELCA World Hunger ministry partners.

What is the cost?

All registrations include airfare, all event costs, and room and board for four days, three nights. Rates below are for synod representatives. Ministry partners, Big Dream ministry partners and former Hunger Advocacy Fellows will receive information about their rates in separate email invitations.

Registration is NOW OPEN at this link.

Questions? Contact us at hunger@elca.org