The conflict in distributing loaves and fishes
From Havana
The conflict in distributing loaves and fishes
By Manuel Alberto Ramy
Some years ago, I regularly chatted with a friendly Jesuit priest – who, lamentably, has since died – about the different social and political doctrines. The topic of those dialogues was the message of Jesus Christ, who was not a political activist but a carrier of transcendental values. For proof, just read the New Testament.
Needless to say, the different political and social doctrines say that they rely on values and keep at the center of their objectives the creation of a different man and a more just society.
I remember that, in one of those entertaining chats, I commented that Christ could (and chose to) perform the miracle of multiplying the loaves and the fishes because of his status as the Son of God and because he took advantage of the good will of those who already had food – people not in the majority. Then he multiplied the supplies, so much so that, according to the Gospel, many baskets were left over.
But, what would have happened if, in order to feed thousands, it had been necessary to take four loaves from whoever had five, against the person’s will? Would Jesus have acted thus? I asked. I think the conflict would have begun right then and there, and he would have been crucified before his time, I added.
His answer still rings in my ears: “The leftovers of some are needed by many and are deserved by those who need them.”
I am no religious preacher, but I do believe in values, such as treating your neighbor as you would treat yourself. How many millions of me are there in millions of you?
Obviously, as much as the need for social justice (especially distributive justice) is preconized, the world’s reality is scandalously antihuman. The present world runs on perverse rails, the concentration of loaves and fishes in a minuscule minority, whereas the basic needs are the patrimony of a majority of human beings.
What’s superfluous and banal, as promoted by modern mechanisms and technologies, is reported more widely than information about daily meals, health care, education or a decent life for all. “The world is upside down, the values have been perverted,” my friend the priest used to say, serenely and softly, as was his custom.
As I think back, I know that – as we then delved into the political situation in Latin America – today we’d talk about Bolivia or Ecuador or what’s happening in Honduras, and we’d place Christ in any of those scenarios.
The governments are reprising their function as promoters of a more honorable life for their inhabitants, “who are people,” as the priest would specify. And that’s where the conflict begins. Those who have too many goods don’t want to give up any, and, as soon as the laws and the changes force them to, they begin a “sacrosanct struggle” in defense (for example) of the right to private property, whose exercise has been historically mediated, as we agreed while recalling the communities founded by the Jesuits in Paraguay. The selfish rich also engage in subversion and media manipulation, as they label the changes with designations elaborated as scientifically as the advertising for some brand of toothpaste.
What would happen to Christ in today’s Honduras? It is a small country with 6.69 million inhabitants, 68.9 percent of whom live in poverty, a country where indigence afflicts 45.6 percent of the population and the death rate of children under the age of 5 stands at 68 for every 1,000 live births. The concentration of wealth, a key issue, is eloquent: 3 percent of the privileged citizens hold more than 50 percent of the nation’s revenue.
Christ simply would have to multiply the loaves and the fishes by reducing the concentration of wealth in so few hands. He would to alter the rules of the game on the basis not of political doctrines but of humanistic values, of the realities that slap any sensitive cheek.
In his time, Jesus was a heterodox of the Judaic religion and was accused of being an enemy of the empire – Rome, at the time. Today, as part of the initial campaign of discredit, he would be shown on YouTube as a promoter of alcoholic beverages (did he not turn water into wine?). Or, because of the superior quality of his miraculous beverage, he would be invited by Roman entrepreneurs to launch with them a novel winery that produces soul-saving Bordeaux. “One drink will guarantee you Paradise,” the slogan might be.
Or, given his power to cure terminal patients, they might propose the joint operation of a network of private clinics. However, Jesus would consistently refuse. Then Pilate, the Pontius with clean hands, would look away as if to say “I have nothing to do with whatever happens. It’s up to you,” he would say to the domesticated servants, who would proceed to crucify the Christ. And Barrabas would come to power, to uphold the status quo.
Be not puzzled, dear reader. This kind of parable is not intended as a defense of the ousted President Zelaya, who, in my humble opinion, was not going to radically change his country’s critical reality but wanted to open a space for the large majority of people who can only afford fish bones and seldom eat bread.
It is written while thinking about those people anywhere on the planet who have been crucified for years, and about those crosses that wait for the bodies of others. But there’ll be a resurrection.
Manuel Alberto Ramy is Havana bureau chief of Radio Progreso Alternativa and editor of Progreso Semanal, the Spanish-language version of Progreso Weekly.
