The Hunger Ride; a recap in words, photo, and video

Have you ever had one of those experiences that, no matter how effectively you share it with others, they will never really get it? Yeah, me too. And, if you've had such an experience, you probably also know the futility of bringing people into the stories of what you experienced. No matter how hard you try you can never quite share what it was like, and the more desperate you are to bring people in the less they are able to follow. So, I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm going to talk only a little about what we did and much more about what it all means.

 

It started on a Thursday in Turtle River. The five of us who would be riding for a week got together (some for the first time) and talked a little about what it was that we were getting ourselves into. 7 days of riding. 241 miles. Evening stops in Bemidji, Walker, Park Rapids, Wadena, Perham, Detroit Lakes, and Hawley. We didn't know it yet but there would also be rain and cold and head winds and even sleet. We had signed up for something that none of us were completely ready for, but the funny thing was that was OK.

The muskie in Nevis

The idea that framed our week was pilgrimage. This was not tourism. We weren't just riding into communities to take a look at the sights, and we weren't riding these roads only because they were particularly pretty. Instead, we were intentionally focusing on the journey itself, going at a slower rate than any car would dare, and taking in the benefits of noticing what surrounds us.

 

The ice was still on Lake Bemidji when we set out on May 9

We were riding for hunger, but we didn't set any lofty fundraising goals or minimize the cause as an excuse to ride bikes. Instead, the riding and the hunger programming became intrinsic to one another as the week went along. The pilgrimage was not limited to the actual movement of riding bikes but included also the people we met along the way and the fellowship we shared. Sure, we had great opportunities to learn about local efforts designed to tackle hunger and we had opportunities to discuss pointed issues related to hunger in the United States, but from the standpoint of dollars raised or policies changed this ride would have to be deemed unsuccessful. Moreover, if the purpose was simply to ride bicycles a long way we have very few bragging rights. Many people ride much farther and many people ride much faster. Instead, we cling to the hope that there is purpose in the pilgrimage itself. And, let me tell you, I am certain there is. The people and places we encountered impacted us and we in turn impacted them. Time and again I heard people ask, "What can we do?" to which I think the answer is "Pay attention." This may as well be the pilgrim's motto. Pay attention to those who are hungry, because they aren't invisible, even if we often go out of our way not to see them. Open your eyes to a world in need.

Open your eyes.

Most mission trips that we undertake as Christians are encapsulated experiences that we look forward to and then back upon, reminiscing about all the formative experiences we had. When I was in high school I remember being part of a group of boys who were talking with one another as one particular trip was winding down about how this experience was going to change everything when we got back home; we imagined meeting together on a regular basis, carrying forward the mission and the fellowship into our lives the other 51 weeks of the year. It didn't happen. Eventually, we started planning for the next summer's trip and a similar experience happened then in a different place, but again it was something looked forward to and back upon; not something that led to anything in particular except in the hearts of those who went and the small impact we made on the place we served. I think what we did on this ride was related to but critically different from that kind of mission trip. We went out into the world, broke down some of our own personal and cultural barriers, and had an experience to dwell upon, but the nature of what we did leaves this pilgrimage open-ended. What we learned impacts us today, because pilgrimages never really end; they just get paused from time to time

Much of this impact will be felt because of the thread woven across northern Minnesota. Most days, the communities of Perham and Wadena and Bemidji have little to do with each other, but in this week we were able to share stories of what is happening outside of peoples' normal community bubbles. We were able to string together the stories of organic farmers in Sebeka, the hungry and homeless at Peoples' Church in Bemidji, the youth volunteering at Calvary of Park Rapids, and the students in Wadena who were growing food for their own school lunches. The coolest thing of all was the gradual realization we had that these are not independent efforts; they are people working together, who often do not even know that one another exist, but they have a common purpose. These are people concerned about eating and eating well.

There are many issues to be concerned about in this world. We all have our passions and, truthfully, hunger was not originally one of mine. I cared much more about sustainability and the environment, and I remain concerned about the integrity of human life on this planet. These are causes that I still care deeply about, but I have realized as this project came into focus and now as it is being lived forward as our first ride has come to a close that hunger is interrelated with all of these issues. I don't even have to spiritualize hunger to make it applicable. Even simple, physical hunger is tied to environmental ethics and agrarianism and economics and justice issues at the heart of what we do as church and all manner of causes that promote a healthier, more whole humanity. All people need to eat. Some of us eat more (me) and some of us eat more nutritionally (not me), but all of us eat and all of us crave to eat. Even those with eating disorders (maybe especially those with eating disorders) live with food as an intimate companion.

So, we share this human activity. And yet 50 million Americans do not know where their next meal is coming from, having been labeled as "food insecure." 17 million of these are children. We're not talking only about a problem in sub-Saharan Africa, India, or other places far away. We're talking about something here in our midst. Every food shelf we visited painted a picture of increased use and growing desperation. There are many, many reasons for this, and some of which can be pointed at those who are hungry themselves, but putting aside politics for a moment let's be clear: nobody should not eat. In fact, everybody should eat well. The great news is that there are people all over the place who are interested in feeding the hungry. I know because I met them, and I saw their passion that nobody should go hungry--not in this wealthy country of ours; not anywhere. If that isn't a basic human right then I don't know what is.

But here's the even greater news from the pilgrimage. It isn't over. And I don't just mean that we'll be doing it again (though I think that's true). I mean that the stories we shared, and the stories you shared with us, are meant to be passed on. And the advice I leave with you is the same advice I found myself giving to the impossibly big questions several people asked along the way: "Pay attention." Open your eyes to a world that is hungry. If everyone of us lived our lives with eyes for the needy--not judging them for their faults but advocating for them to find a foothold on which to stand--then, I think what will happen is that the same person who is physically fed will find that the person giving them bread has a message that will feed them differently as well. All of wellness is connected--physical, spiritual, emotional. All of life is a pilgrimage. It's just that sometimes we are more intentional about it than others.