The voices of children have a way of piercing the soul.
Voices of children can unite into angelic choirs, inspiring visions of heaven. Voices of children can echo delight in the heart, as they laugh over the brilliance of a bouncing of a ball. Voices of children can chant with an innocent, disarming dissonance that awakens a deep rebellion against injustice.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino!”
Today, the Poor Handmaids of Jesus Christ brought me to see some of the projects they maintain in Mexico. If you have downloaded Google Earth onto your computer, you can view my pictorial of the projects they showed me by clicking here.
Sr. Edith started by taking me to Centro Educativo Maria Catalina Kasper and told me some of the dirty details that make their efforts so valiant. Technically, the school is not in conformity with the law. They don’t have the right to operate the school, especially for the children they have chosen to educate. Most of the children at Centro Educativo Maria Catalina Kasper are in need of special learning assistance to address disabilities caused by mental and physical handicaps, poverty, or abuse. The school limits the class sizes to fifteen, which allows for proper attention to be paid to each student. This allows students to catch up to their appropriate grade level, or to develop the basic skills that no other school, in this area of Mexico, possesses the resources to teach to them.
Though staffed by lay workers, the school exists because of the leadership and resources of the Poor Handmaids of Jesus Christ. The Poor Handmaids are bringing justice to a situation that is otherwise unjust, even if they have to break a few of the already broken “rules” to do so.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino”
Sr. Joan brought me to visit the comodor, or “soup kitchen” that she helps run. The kitchen is located adjacent to a prison, and makeshift impoverished village.
The comodor was not established to feed all of the poor, but focuses its efforts on children. Everyday, around eighty children come to the kitchen, meet the social worker at the door, and pay her one peso – about ten cents. The peso is insignificant, because the actual cost of the food is probably around ten pesos, but it establishes a positive mindset in children. They cannot expect things for free. They must contribute, even if it is just a little. Even with the one peso rule, a child who does not have his/her peso would never be turned away. Today they will have a healthy portion of scrambled eggs, beans, and rice.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino”
After all the children arrive, the leader calls them to order and leads them in a prayer. They all snap to attention, their brown eyes wide open. Their faces are dirty, their shirts unwashed, yet with the innocent wanting of hope, they join the leader in prayer.
If I live to be a hundred, I doubt I will ever forget the sound of their voices. Children lack consciousness of their vocal effect, leading them to shout the virgin sentiment of righteousness along with the horde. It reverberates with high pitch intensity that shatters stillness.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino.”“Venga nosotros Tu Reino!”The words came out in a clashing timbre that silenced my justifications. The words translate, “Come to us your reign,” Christians who pray in English would better know the words translated as, “Thy kingdom come.”
They were praying the “Our Father.”
This was not a chorus of pious women in the corner of a chapel. This wasn’t the meditative prayer given by a serene Jesus figure in a Hollywood movie. There was neither a sunlit backdrop, nor a tranquil instrumental accompaniment.
This was the fanfare of the forgotten.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino.”
We are poor. “Venga nosotros Tu Reino!”We have been abused.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino!”
We are broken. We are hopeless. We are hungry.
Come already! What are you waiting for God? If I have to hear their voices another second I’ll scream myself! They’re crying for your help, for your power, for your justice. They’re crying for your righteousness, with purity of intension, and pangs of hunger in their belly. They’re asking for your Kingdom to come! What are you waiting…
The prayer ends.
The children switch into a playful spirit evoked by the silliness of hopping into cheap plastic chairs in which their feet can’t even touch the ground. They giddily slouch to amplify their amusement. The entire transition passes without recognition of the preceding. I sigh as I am temporarily released from the torment of hearing the “Our Father” spoken in the way Jesus probably knew it best, through the voices desolate and desperate.
Women who come by with plates of food, pitchers of drink. The children delight in their feast. They are full of joy and laughter. They are full.
But the echo still rings in depth of my being, like a ghost, present but unseen.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino.”
I look out of the corner of my eye. I hear it again.
“Venga nosotros Tu Reino.”
We are waiting Lord… When will your Kingdom come?