There’s poverty, and then there’s me without cash.

Sometimes I don’t have money. But that’s not poverty.

Poverty was on my mind yesterday, not just because it’s this month’s synchroblog topic, but for two reasons.

One is that I’m reading Jim Wallis’s book The Great Awakening, which—since it’s about the Christian Left’s viewpoints taking the American political dialogue beyond the Christian Right—has the usual chapters about how poverty is terrible and God cares about the poor, and how His followers should likewise care about the poor instead of only getting lathered up about abortion and gay marriage. Tied to that is economic disadvantage, disease, exploitation, and all the other plagues of humanity that wealth (or really good credit) can buy your way out of. But the solution to these problems is not access to money; it’s activist Christians who personally and politically do what they can to fight these problems. The Christian Right’s solution? Embrace social Darwinism, relabel it either “the disapproval of God” or (if you’re a compassionate conservative like the President once was) the responsibility of a good faith-based organization... ’cause government needs to stay out of it.

The other is that my bank account is right now at $1.21... and I had a ticket to see All’s Well that Ends Well at Shakespeare Santa Cruz. I had the ticket, but I still had to get there, and get lunch, and I only had $6 and change in my wallet.

I had bought the ticket three weeks ago, back when I had some money, and back before certain unexpected bills came my way and depleted my bank account. I don’t have a lot of disposable income, but I do try to make sure I at least see the Shakespeare plays of the festival when it comes round every summer. Tickets are about $30. I can hack away at this a bit by getting a student discount and a “groundling” seat—since it’s an outdoor theater, there are proper seats, and then there are open spaces where you can sit on a blanket, bring a short-legged beach chair, or rent such a chair. I’ve tried their seats, and they’re a good view, but they’re hard plastic with no leg room. I’ve tried sitting on a blanket, and you tend to slide downhill, and can’t see too well over the wiser folks who brought chairs. So I bought my own short-legged beach chair, and carry it to the play. It comes in handy when the bus stops don’t have a bench.

Because it’s an outdoor play, the promoters encourage you to bring dinner, or buy food at their concession stand. I did that once; it’s typical overpriced Yuppie food, and if you like paying $15 for half a focaccia eggplant and Havarti sandwich, have at it. I’d rather go to Subway. Or get Indian take-out, or a burrito, or a salad and a bag of Cheetos... whatever I feel like eating, from any of my favorite restaurants.

But yesterday I was awfully short on cash.

Unlike the truly impoverished, I have friends whom I can borrow from. My friend B even owes me $10. I also—if I hadn’t sworn off the damned things twelve years ago—could apply for, and get, a credit card. I also have some CDs I really need to get rid of; I could stop by Streetlight Records on my way there and get some spare spending cash. So even though I was feeling a bit of a pinch, I honesty am not hurting by any stretch of the imagination. My bills are paid. I owe no one money except Mom and the people currently financing my student loans.

With the cash, I bought busfare. With my Starbucks card from Christmas, which still has about $20 on it, I bought a sandwich. (By the way... don’t buy sandwiches from Starbucks. They’re $10 less than the festival’s Yuppie sandwiches, but still the same size, which in Starbucks-speak is called “tall.”) I brought a water bottle and nectarines from home. So, despite the money crunch, I was still able to get to the play, enjoy it, enjoy lunch while watching it, and have some money in my wallet at the end.

This, to me, is being poor. This, to me, is annoying. This, to most of the folks I know, would be an intolerable situation. Leaving the house with $6 in one’s wallet, and no access to any more money than that? What if emergencies happen? What if the bus pass gets stolen? What if, what if?...

You see, money, not God, nor even friends, is their safety net.

But though having access to very little money is, in most Americans’ minds, poor, it is no comparison whatsoever with actual poverty. I am not deprived. For crying out loud, I was going to see a play—a luxury if ever there was one in an era of free television and public libraries that lend DVDs. I didn’t have to buy a sandwich; I could’ve made one at home (though I’m currently out of lettuce). I didn’t even have to take the bus; I could’ve begged a ride. And at the end of the play, I came home to a full pantry, a paid-up roof over my head, with paid-up Blockbuster videos freshly arrived in the mail. I have a paycheck coming next week that’ll pay for college courses, a visit to my family, groceries, and a good chunk of my rent. I have paid vacation time coming. I am not struggling. I am not starving. I am blessed.

I have seen real poverty. I’ve ministered to the homeless, and to people in other countries who owned little more than the clothes they were wearing. Americans have access to so many resources, and thanks to easy credit can borrow riches they’ve never earned—and thanks to the supporting legal system, can keep ahold of those riches for a very long time, and can juggle poverty away. So many of us are so removed from the problem that we simply can’t address it adequately. We’re completely dense.

Before we address it, we first need to go visit it. We need to listen to people who live in it, and hear their stories. We need to get to know someone who is truly poor, and find out what they really need. (It’s actually not money, despite what you—and they—might believe. Money is impractical when you don’t have access to a stable economy.) We need to befriend the poor, and support the poor with ourselves rather than our donations. We lack experience. That’s why our so-called “help” is vanity.

The August ’08 synchroblog.

Some of the other synchrobloggers will offer solutions, or eloquently discuss the plight of the poor. They might even have experienced actual poverty themselves. So read what they have to say about it; my experience is pretty inadequate. Pick a blog and click, “Enlighten me.”

Sonja Andrews: “Fully known and fully loved.” Jonathan Brink: “Spiritual poverty.” Adam Gonnerman: “Echoes of Judas.” Steve Hayes: “Holy poverty.” Jeremiah: “Blessed are the poor... churches...” Alan Knox: “Boasting in humiliation.” K.W. Leslie: “There’s poverty, and then there’s me without cash.” Miss Eagle: “Poverty—and the hospitable heart.” Lainie Petersen: “But they don’t deserve it!” Jimmie Roan: “Feeding the poor.” Phil Wyman: “A theology of poverty and our personal biases.”