This morning I saw yet another photo of a starving Somali child on a fly-infested bed in a camp in Mogadishu. It tears at your heart. I hope I never "get used to" those photos and the tragic, poignant effect they have. I hope I never cease to be offended by the thoughts of ruling militants who blockade supplies that could keep such children from starving.

Jason Straziuso, an Associated Press reporter on the ground in Mogadishu, wrote: "There was no food, no help. There are kids dying left and right--I'm not exaggerating. They buried 12 on the day I visited... The most touching thing so far has been when this small child waved at me yesterday. I stuck my head in her tent and she was lying, motionless, flies flying everywhere, and she sort of stuck her head up and waved at me," he said. "That put a lump in my throat because I don't know that she's going to get better, in fact I think she has a good chance of not getting better." All the while, the supplies are there, the food is available, if people are simply allowed to get it to them. I do not claim to understand the politics of it all.  I just know that whatever the politics are, it is wrong for innocent little children to starve when food is available. Jesus would have agreed. Remember His words? "Whoever causes one of these little ones to stumble, it would be better for him to have a millstone tied around his neck and be cast into the depths of the sea!" - Matthew 18:6.

So, what do we do about the news? We pray. We voice concerns to those who have influence (i.e., those who represent us politically). We contribute to agencies that have a chance of actually getting the food to the kids (The Collegiate Churches of NY web site has an easy-to-use icon for donating to Somalia via Church World Service). And, additionally, we thank God that the news and the photos bother us.

Stick with that latter statement just a second: We thank God that the news and the photos bother us. One of the critiques Jesus leveled at religious folks was that sometimes we believe with our heads more than we feel with our hearts. "Hypocrites!," He said. "You are like whited sepulchers, all clean on the outside but inwardly filled with dead men's bones." In other words, for all their outward show of religiosity, they had ceased to "feel" on the inside. They had grown cold and emotionless. At another time he said: "Having eyes, you do not see; having ears, you do not hear." Again, they were aware of issues in life but no longer moved by them.

You and I cannot "fix" all the problems of the world. We cannot fix all our own problems or those of the people we love the most. But, thank God we are moved by them... moved to tears, moved to prayers, moved to concern and contemplation, moved to do something even if we cannot do everything. Once we have ceased to feel, we have ceased to be authentically human. We have become automatons, "whited sepulchers." 

So, when you witness tragedies, don't feel guilty or unfaithful if you ask tough questions. "Why did this happen?" "Why would a loving God allow this to happen?" Those questions (called "theodicy") are as old as Job. Wrestling with them simply means you still feel, human pathos matters to you, you are still fully and wholly alive. But, don't stop with those questions, either. You've heard me say before that "Why?" is not the ultimate question, since finding an answer doesn't change the situation.  The ultimate question is "What?" "What does this issue say to me? What does it stir in my soul? And, what am I going to do about it?" Move from "Why" to "What," and let that be the stimulus to do something, even though none of us can do everything.

The plight of the starving children in Somalia touches me, so I have to do something. I choose to make a donation through the Church World Service site I mentioned. Additionally, I will pray.  Those seem to be the best things I can do at the moment. And maybe the prayers will enlighten me regarding what else I can do and how. One thing is for sure -- I am thankful that when I witness the pain of others, it still brings pain to me.