It's not the wealth that matters, but the hope

     Several times in recent weeks, I have found myself stopping in my tracks and thinking about the bounty we have. A few weeks ago it happened when I walked into a supermarket. As I entered through the sliding doors, there was this explosion of color spread out before me; Oranges, apples, pears, grapes, green vegetables -- all laid out in displays covering an area the size of a basketball court. Abundant, fresh, healthy and affordable.
     Saturday is farmers' market day, and the foods and crafts and the humanity come together in a celebration of humanity, creativity, productivity, and generosity of spirit.
     No, it's not the Christmas music getting to me. It's the contrasts.
     It seems to me that in the contrasts, there is the basic theme of some of the stories we have brought with us through the generations, along great pilgrimages.
     Contrast the bounty of the supermarket -- any supermarket -- and the luxurious inventories in the retail stores with the dire reports in the news and just stop and think.
     Yes, the situations in Haiti or Somalia or Afghanistan cause us to worry, perhaps to grieve. But here, we have blessings, and those blessings are not to be ignored -- or regretted.
     To take the bounty for granted puts us at risk of becoming blind to the poverty of others, including our own ancestors. Every rich man has a family history of deprivation. Perhaps a future, too. In the big picture, there are plenty of regrets to go around.
     It's not an accident of arrogance that these bounties and this quality of life exists in this country. Other countries, too. The fact that some people live in good fortune while others are suffering in war and pestilence is the eternal story of humanity, a story of strife and struggle and inequalities and injustices -- of good and evil. The ebb and flow of haves and have-nots.
    Every culture has its history: rising, dominating, declining. Sometimes kings, sometimes slaves.
    Hope is part of the story. That's why varying faiths have similar themes, familiar histories. It is hope and faith and hard work and effort and the willingness to respect the rights of others to join the quest for a better life that lights the beacons so many have followed.
     My story might have been different if great-great grandparents had not sought just the opportunity for a better life, a better future.
     I may not be obligated to apologize for what I have, but I do feel a moral and -- especially in this season -- a spiritual requirement to make sure I do not deny those with less the opportunity to follow the beacons of hope that make life better for humanity.
     So, I drop some coins in the Salvation Army pot, aware that it's no real sacrifice of my wealth, but at least it's a token acknowledgment that the dreams of others are as valid as those who made it possible for me to have fresh produce in December.