“A preferential option for the poor” became a foundational component of Catholic Social teaching when the term was first issued by Latin American Catholic leaders and theologians in the mid-1960s. The phrase echoed the many admonitions from Jesus as recorded in the New Testament:
– To the rich young man –“ Go and sell what you own, and give the money to the poor” (Matthew 10:21) – Quoting the prophet Isaiah — “Bring good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18) – “When you give a banquet, invite the poor” (Luke 14:13) – To his disciples — “The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me” (Mt.26:11)
A more pointed observation was made in recent years by the Rev. James Forbes, former pastor of Riverside Church in Manhattan, and widely regarded as one of America’s most outstanding preachers:
“Nobody gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor.”
What Jesus did, what Catholic social teaching does – and what James Forbes challenges us to do is to bring the poor from the margins to the center. From being dismissed and forgotten, to a place of honor and respect. These teachings, admonitions and challenges are important, necessary – and urgent.
Except.
“The poor” don’t have names, and they don’t have stories. All they have is a category – the poor. They remain anonymous, which invites our projections, which over the generations has generated our disdain. And makes it easier for those who are not poor to push “the poor” back to the margins, where they are relegated to being either a burden or a threat – or both; leaving little possibility for a relationship between those who have and those who don’t.
This is especially problematic now in the wake of the “big beautiful bill” that was narrowly passed by the House of Representatives. Significant tax cuts have been made to Medicaid, SNAP, and other “entitlement” programs. The proposed legislation will do two things: it will benefit wealthy people because they will receive substantial tax relief; and it will bring more people into the ranks of “the poor”, because the subsidies and programs that helped them get by will be reduced or taken away. There is widespread acknowledgement, if not outrage, over the fact that rich people will benefit from the bill; but little is mentioned about those who will be punished by it, partly because we don’t know their names or hear their stories. The people who are already poor will become even poorer, and the millions of people who will soon join the cohort will become faceless, nameless, and reduced to a category. A category that can be more easily ignored.
In his recent book, There is No Home for Us: Working and Homeless in America, author Brian Godstone spent several years building relationships with some residents of Atlanta who are categorized as the working poor. He cites their names. He tells their stories — stories of challenge, injustice, persistence, resilience, and heartbreak in the rapidly gentrifying city. The four families that he follows are the victims, yes, the victims, of a housing system that literally pushes people out of their apartments so the complexes can be torn down or rehabbed. All in the interest of maximizing profit. All of the main characters were born into poverty. All of them had dreams and took steps to rise out of it. There were some successes, but more failures, largely due to an economic system that rewards those who have resources and punishes those who don’t. Goldstone’s book puts faces and names on people’s stories to the degree that I have come to regard use of the term “the poor” as a cultural slur.
Bill Russell, the famous basketball player, told a story about how the use of language can diminish our humanity at a lecture he gave to the student body when I was in college, more than fifty years ago. While he was imposing in size (6 feet 10 inches tall), he was more impressive in dignity. He refused to be categorized. He recounted that during his playing career a woman came up to him at an airport, and said, “Oh, you are a basketball player.” He quickly and gently corrected her: “No madam, I am a man who plays basketball.” His humanity came first. Throughout his life he insisted that people recognize both his humanity and the humanity of one another, and the dignity with which all of us are endowed.
Our humanity comes first. Which means we need to move beyond categories to hear stories, learn names, and build relationships. James Forbes has it right – sort of, when he says, “nobody gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor”. A letter of reference requires a relationship, which is what Forbes is proposing (along with Jesus and Catholic social teaching). Lumping people into a category – the poor – undermines the possibility of that happening, and can deepen the prejudice that is already there. We need to learn names, hear stories, build relationships. That will strengthen the fabric of the larger community, and has the potential – at some level – of mitigating the escalating preferential option of those who are rich.
