As part of the process of finding our long term location in the city we’ve been visiting slum communities. Sometimes we’ve been introduced to communities through contacts that already have some relationships there. Other times it has involved walking through a community, stopping to chat when invited to, learning what we can about the community and about whether it could be a place for us.
On one occasion we accompanied a local urban poor worker to some of the slums she works with, and were invited into a small family home (one room around 3 metres square). After a bit of a chat we were asked by the local worker if we had any questions for the lady of the house. I did have one, and was saddened by her answer. I asked her what dreams she had for her children.
She responded by saying she didn’t really have any. The only hope she did have for her children was that they might be able to work doing something, anything, to survive. Generations of her family having been trapped in inescapable poverty has robbed her of any hope for a better future for her family.
One of the basic principles of community development is to seek to understand the hopes, aspirations and priorities for change that the people have, rather than imposing on them your outsiders’ perspective. But what about when years of grinding poverty has crushed people’s spirit, and they can no longer bring themselves to hold on to any such hopes and dreams?
I’m not entirely sure. But one thing I’m reminded of is the sacred role of what Walter Brueggemann has called ‘The prophetic imagination’. That is, being present with an oppressed community, seeking to kindle a small fire of hope. To walk with them, helping them to imagine and give voice to the kinds of healing and justice God desires to bring. We see this kind of ministry through the Old Testament prophets, and then especially in Jesus as he proclaimed and demonstrated the arrival of God’s reign, which includes very good news for the poor.
Certainly when appropriate we can communicate our great hope in the consummation of God’s kingdom of justice, peace and righteousness at Jesus’ return. But what about hope for right now, for this life? I feel that the raising of such hope is not to be done lightly. That could be a cruel exercise. When a family’s history, the prevailing social and political structures, and in fact everything around them seems to shut down any prospect of change, do we dare plant seeds of hope for the here and now?
I'm sure that we should, as the God I know certainly cares very much about healing, restoring and extending his reign in the here and now. But this would require prophets of hope not just to kindle dreams, but to dedicate themselves to living cross shaped lives within and for their community. To pick up the servant's towel in whatever ways are appropriate in helping them realise their dreams and God’s vision for a better future.
