Degrading my poverty stricken brother

 

One of the companyís I worked before had no separate pantry. During the lunch break the staff gathered around a long table in the corner and had their food. But I chose to sit at my worktable and have my food. After sometime I started feeling odd that the other staff might be noticing me eating. This was an International company that employed nationals from every country. Being Indian my food was always home cooked and Indian. I was feeling conscious because it had the smell of curries. I told my husband one day. ďI am not going to sit there and eat this Indian food, from tomorrow I am going to take a sandwich for lunch.Ē As the words slipped out of my mouth I realized there was something terribly wrong in that statement. What am I telling? That I canít eat a particular food in front of people just because they belong to another culture. I didnít think of the millions who were starving around the globe just for a morsel of food.

Sometimes we make such a big fuzz about clothes as though we have never seen a naked person who couldnít afford a single set of clothing or fuzz about the tasteless dishes made at home as though we have never seen in our televisions a child from a war stricken country sitting with an empty plate to be fed by some charitable association, or we complain that our house is not cozy enough or beautiful enough without thinking of a family that has no roof or even a polythene sheet above their head. Or complain about the travel in our own private cars as though we have never heard of people walking long distances just because they cannot even afford a public transport or live in remote areas where the mode of transport are still donkeys or bulls.

All those less fortunate people are, my Godís own children. My dear God loves them as much as he loves me. Their hair is also counted as my hair is counted and their names are also inscribed in his palm as he has inscribed my name in his palm. He collects their tears in a bottle the same way he has collected my tears and the greatest truth is that Jesus died for them, the same day as he died for me, 2000 years ago and he will give a fair judgment for them and for me without any preferences.

Letís pray.....
Lord Jesus help me, so that I donít pass judgements on my brother. Most often I find my self seated on the judgement seat which your father has given you. Forgive me, Lord. I am always looking at the rich man who has no name -in front of you - but forget to see you in the beggar, Lazarus.

 

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