I didn't know Samuel had a truck--I didn't know very much about Samuel at all, except that two years ago I "liked" a post he'd made on a mutual friend's wall about his father, one of the founders of the Occupy Central movement. I admire people who take stands, and Samuel and his family are worthy of admiration, and prayers.
After a quick check-in with my co-captain Scott I signed up for four free passes to this mysterious, immersive experience about hunger, held in an expanded 18-wheeler outside of the Clinton School of Public Service, next door to the Clinton Library. We found ourselves with 30 minutes to eat lunch in the Clinton Library before the program started at 1. All of us felt the uncomfortable tug of irony: with limited time we couldn't finish our meal.
Outside we walked toward the This Is Hunger truck and I considered the potential of a museum on wheels. Is this a museum? I wondered to myself. We climbed up and in after being greeting warmly by two volunteers and the driver.
Inside, cool air enveloped us and we were invited to sit at a long farmhouse-style table. There were about 20 other participants at the table with us: from age 70-something to 5 months. The room was quiet, each of us filled with the promise that something special was about to happen. Projections of light from the ceiling of the room created circles, like dinner plates at each person's spot at the table.
Samuel gave us a brief orientation, connecting us to his journey with the truck across the country. Now we twenty humans are part of the This is Hunger initiative. We are part of the story. For the next 14 minutes we were surrounded by stories, some humbling, some hard to listen to. At each end of the table, a projected image of a real human with food insecurity made two rows of people a circle. We were sharing a common human experience, but the plates were empty. We could just as easily be the human in the photograph: no one believed hunger could or would ever happen to them.
It was powerful. When the lights came up at the end of the presentation Edward our nine year-old sat with his head down on the table, the literal expression of the weight of the world on his shoulders. Samuel broke the silence with an invitation to work together to create a meal plan from the S.N.A.P. (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program). SNAP (perhaps more familiar to you as the Food Stamp Program) allows $1.40 per meal: just sit with that for a moment. Edward and I calculated and re-calculated: being hungry in America in 2017 is hard. 42 million Americans know this. 1 in 4 Veterans: once noble servants to our country are now hungry.
Phil Snyder, a Deacon at Trinity Episcopal Church in Dallas, Texas, once taught me that evangelism is one hungry person telling another hungry person where the food is. When was the last time you or I told another hungry person where the food is? Created by Mazon: A Jewish Response to Hunger: the This is Hunger Experience is a classroom for the best, most necessary kind of evangelism. Samuel Chu has committed his life to telling people across the nation where the food is, and how we can tell others, too. This is compassion in action, and an intention for mindfulness led us here.
Once we got in the car to head on to Nashville for the continuation of our Mindful Family Road Trip, Edward sat quietly in the back seat: big tears rolling down his face. His sweet compassionate heart broke a little in the This is Hunger truck. And I wonder, who will he tell when he grows up where to find the food?