Ever since I’ve arrived in Slovakia, it’s been quite difficult to shake the reality of distinct racism. There is a culture here called ‘roma’ or gypsy. You know the phrase, “I got gyped” well, it’s a racial slur relating to this people group I’m about to attempt to explain to you. Really my source is wikipedia, I can’t lie. I found out from said source that this people group migrated from India and there are somewhere from 12 to 15 million of them, but no one can be absolutely sure because they about their race because of the racism that exists. This culture is spread out from India all the way to Western Europe. They are easily recognizable; they have dark features and usually look pretty ragged. You can find them going through trash cans to find something to eat (trash from my apartment even), begging on the street, or even huffing window cleaner (as seen on one of our first days here).
I’m not sure I have any clue how to take all of this in. These people are beautiful, made in the image of God- and live like rats, well almost.
They live in ghettos in different spots around town. I’ve heard stories of these buildings that were built for gypsys to live in and they have moved in and trashed the place. Selling anything that would make them a krown. These villages look like war zones in a third world country. I’m not exaggerating.
As I write this I’m nearly in tears, but this isn’t rare. I often tear up when I think about this gypsy culture. I’m reminded of Jesus’ words, ” whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” I think I get it.
The least of these.
I went to Budapest by train and a woman was begging at the ticket station. Her hand was curled up in the begging position, a wound on her forehead with dried blood, and an old coat around her shoulders. No doubt, I didn’t speak her language (try any of the options Hungarian, Roma, or Slovak) but this is not an excuse. She was waiting for left over change from ticket buyers. I don’t know how many forint (this is the Hungarian currency) I had on me at the time but surely I could have spared a few or bought her lunch. As I walked by her she grabbed my arm and I turned my head away. I still can’t believe I did that. I just don’t know what I should do in those situations, but I know what I did was not right, at all. I’m ashamed to write this, but hope that you might identify.
I’ve heard people say that if you give homeless people money they will buy alcohol. Or if you try to give them food they won’t take it. I’m not sure these excuses are good enough for me anymore. As I was on my way to Budapest on this very same trip I was reading Irresistable Revolution (again) a book by Shane Claiborne, whose battle cry is the church learning to love the homeless. The church is not living, is not loving, as the church should. He is right. We are so out of touch with a hungry, hurting, dying world.
Even as I write this the Dalit Hymn popped on my ipod. “Free the Dalit, free the Dalit, Prime Minister Free the Dalit” How appropriate. Do you know of the Dalit?
The couple that runs our language school, Brad and Karla Theissen, are here with an organization called International Messengers. They have a ministry with the roma people. They teach them vocational things like how to sew and also practical things like how to read. Fascinating. They’ll go into these villages and show the Jesus film (which is the only film in the Roma language) and hundreds of them will come to Christ, but the next day its back to the same lifestyle. They’ve never seen the Christian life lived out. Why? Because no one is in there living it with them, showing them how to live. Would you know how to live the Christian life if you’d never seen anyone do it? Would you be encouraged in your faith if there were no other Christians around you, no resources, no podcasts, no worship in your language, no pastors, nothing. This is reality.
In Claiborne’s book, he mentions a story about a wealthy church in town who mailed a box to help, even with good intentions, to Claiborne and his friends efforts to conquer a challenge to keep the homeless from being kicked out of an abandoned cathedral. He was excited the package had arrived and found only its contents to be microwave popcorn. This church really thought the tent city had microwaves or even electricity. We’re fooling ourselves. We don’t really know what God has called us to. How He’s called us to live. Wake up heart. Wake up church. There is a hurting, dying, shivering, wounded world next door.
Feeding the homeless one Saturday a month is a good step. But that’s not it. God calls us to more. To sacrifice. I need to figure out what He’s doing in my heart and follow Him. I long to follow Him. To live with arms high and heart abandoned in awe of the One who gave it all.
stop sending microwave popcorn.
