I had a call this week from Sister Adeline, one of the social workers with whom Caroline works in Cameroon. She and Caroline are the two most qualified people I know to work with a population of street girls in Cameroon, Caroline by virtue of her education, and Sister Adeline, by virtue of the fact that she’s been working with them for a very long time. When she spoke with me, she was clearly very upset. She and Caroline have been waiting patiently for someone to initiate a dormitory project for the girls, mostly 11 to 16 years of age, (some younger). But internal political issues seem to be needlessly holding things up. One of the sisters in charge, isn’t evidently willing to courageously move forward with any sort of proposal (for fear it be rejected), and that is frustrating to both Caroline and Sister Adeline.
As we were finishing our conversation, she became quite emotional and said, in reference to her superior, “you know, she will go home in sleep in a bed tonight; our girls will walk and walk and walk until they can’t walk anymore, and if they haven’t found a man to take them to bed, they lie on the dirt and try to cover themselves with plastic to stay dry.”
The sound in her voice was haunting. It was, all at once, angry, sad, frustrated and so terribly frightened for these children whose lives seem to mean so little to the world, that they have to live their lives in this way. This isn’t the way it should be.
I often wonder if Jesus’ “triumphant entry into Jerusalem” wasn’t fraught with such conflicting feelings and anxieties and fears. Knowing what he was about to face; knowing that injustice seemed to be increasingly victorious over justice; knowing that life would soon give way to death; surely Jesus must have felt that this isn’t the way it should be.
Join us this weekend, the beginning of Holy Week, for our Passion Sunday worship, where we shall follow Jesus’ story, on his journey to the cross.