Surely, He must have been able to prevent the loss of a job, a relationship, or a loved one. There is spiritual poverty, often brought on by a belief that God has let you down. It may be as close as the co-worker in the cubicle next to you, the executive you joke with on your train ride out of Manhattan every day at six o'clock, or perhaps, within your own home.

Poverty, in it's many forms is all around us.

The other forms of poverty I am alluding to are sometimes harder to spot, and consequently, often go unnoticed, unaided. There is poverty beyond finances, beyond the daily needs of food and shelter. But those are not the only poor among us. And, yes, the Lord does hear and respond to their cries. They are the widows and orphans mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, and still with us today those that we are charged with providing comfort to. They are those living paycheck to paycheck, one unexpected expense away from living on the street. The residents of shelters, relying on soup kitchens for their meals. The poor are the unemployed or underemployed. Perhaps the most conspicuous question, at least to my mind, is this who are the poor?Ī nonsensical query, isn't it? It's so obvious. But, as is so often the case with lessons taken from scripture, there is so much more going on than that seemingly straightforward line intimates. The Lord will hear and will respond to the prayers of the poor. Having heard this hymn within the context of the liturgy dozens of times, I am no less lifted by it's implied promise today than I was the first time I heard it. The melody is melancholy almost haunting.

The Cry of the Poor, a hymn gleaned from the lines of Psalm 34, was penned by John Foley, S.J., in 1978.

Cry of fear controls