Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” (Mark 12:41-44 NIV)
There’s something deeply powerful about a group of people coming together to create something meaningful. Whether it’s an Amish community raising a barn, a choir or band performing a concert, a library organizing a fundraiser, or a group of teens using drama to tell a story—there is strength in that shared purpose and connection.
Last week, I had the privilege of spending much of my time with 44 teenagers and about a dozen parents as we worked together to produce a drama. The play told two parallel stories: the Choctaw Trail of Tears (1831–1833) and the Irish Potato Famine (1845–1852). As one mom observed, there may have been moments of “pontificating,” but for the most part, the script stayed rooted in history. These were stories of real people—with real families, real homes, and real heartbreak.
The Choctaw were forced by the U.S. government and its soldiers to leave their ancestral land. One-third of them died from starvation, disease, neglect, and violence on the long, bitter journey west. Across the ocean, Irish families faced devastating loss as the potato blight destroyed their crops. Starvation and disease swept through communities, leaving countless families shattered.
And yet—out of their own pain and poverty—the Choctaw people chose to give. In 1847 they sent $170 to help the Irish during the famine, a generous act of compassion from one suffering people to another. That gift became the bridge in our play—the connection between these two distant and devastated communities. And through our drama, we tried to honor that legacy of shared humanity and hope.
To the people of Ireland, from your Choctaw brothers across the sea. We have heard your story. Heard of the great suffering you have endured, and the troubles that still lay ahead, and it spoke to us. We too know what it is to go hungry, to face hatred and bitter pain, to lose our homes. To watch loved ones die before our eyes. And yet, we also know what it is to hope, to endure, to stand together and face whatever comes.
We send this gift in the hope that it will lessen the sting of your hunger and heartache. As you brave the coming years, persist in the knowledge that you are not alone. The Irish will always have a friend in the Choctaw, and you will endure. Let this always be a reminder that humanity is never too far gone. That no matter how wide the chasm of tragedy grows, a bridge of hope can always be found to ease the crossing. And once you find that bridge, you will march joyfully and triumphantly, until you reach the other side.
A friend who saw the play texted me afterward, saying that we (Americans) “never learn.” In her view, we’re still a nation defined by marginalization and dominated by “crazy rich white guys.” Given today’s tense, politically polarized climate, I understand where she’s coming from. But I think she may have missed the deeper message.
In every era and every society, there will always be disparities—between the powerful and the powerless, the oppressors and the oppressed, the privileged and the struggling. These injustices take different forms and measures across time and place, but they are a persistent part of our broken humanity. Ultimately, they won’t be fully healed until Jesus returns.
And yet, even in the midst of these painful realities, we also witness moments of breathtaking beauty—flashes of goodness that reflect the best of who humanity is meant to be. We see children offering their favorite toy or snack without being asked. Strangers lending a hand when no one’s watching. People with very little choosing to share what they have with those who have even less.
In these moments, we catch a glimpse of what God created us to be: compassionate beings, made to care for one another. Despite the darkness, there is still light—still kindness, still generosity, still hope.
As Jesus commended the widow for giving all she had, despite her poverty, we can commend the Choctaw for their support of the Irish.
“They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”
Under the leading and guidance of the Holy Spirit, let us remember and emulate these examples.
God,
Thank you for stories that remind us of our humanity and your love for us expressed through others. Help us to be compassionate creatures who care for each other. May we be people who seek to end suffering and sorrow in this world, and to build bridges between groups so that all will come to know Jesus Christ as Lord. May his Love permeate and his Light brighten every part of this world, we ask in the name of Jesus, our Savior, AMEN.