The needy shall not always be
forgotten, nor the hope of the poor perish forever. (Psalm 9.18)
Eddy, Terrence, Randy, George,
Toloff, Jeff, Steve, Patrice, Brett, Renard, Ivan, two Larrys, Tony, Joey, three
Michaels, Eileen, Laird, Dean, two Patricks, five Johns, Eric, two Jameses and
a Jimmy, Howard, Keith, Rodney, Charles—the list of hollows that HIV/AIDS has
carved in my heart goes on and on. The roster of friends and loved ones living
with HIV/AIDS is many times longer. And it would be dishonest to pretend I’m
any different from them. But for God’s grace, there’s no reason why I’m not
listed among the lost or afflicted. In this, I am not alone. Many of us have
behaved recklessly in the past. None of us can explain how or why we’ve been
spared.
These days, it’s very rare that we
grieve AIDS-related deaths. For that we are truly grateful. Yet not an hour
passes without more fatalities added to the list. Today, the lives lost to or
afflicted with HIV/AIDS have names like Gulu, Siphiwe, Noé, Toku, Jaspreet,
Wang Pinghe. The grotesque horrors we endured in the fast-receding past are constant
realities in Africa, India, and Asia. There, it’s much harder to identify HIV/AIDS
patient types and focus prevention on at-risk populations. On the other side of
the globe, HIV/AIDS is an equal-opportunity destroyer. It sweeps up men, women,
children, gays, straights, rich, poor, educated, illiterate, powerful, and
powerless with random disregard. It takes its toll in lives, religious and
social violence, economic hardship, and decimated families.
With this weekend's observance of World
AIDS Day, I invite all of us to bear witness to lives currently afflicted with
HIV/AIDS by recounting those we lost so long ago. Naming names is our most
powerful means to remind us of the virus’s terrors. Take a moment to open the
comments and record the names of people you’ve lost. If it’s one or one
hundred, name them. Recall how helpless and angry and betrayed you felt as they
slipped away. Now think of hundreds of thousands—many in faraway places, with
strange-sounding names—presently experiencing what you went through. Wherever
they live, they cannot be forgotten. We cannot allow their hope to perish.
Pray for them. Suffer with them.
And offer whatever you can—your money, time, or talent—to help combat this
plague and end their pain.
Naming the names of those we’ve lost to HIV/AIDS is how we bear witness to
the sufferings of those currently ravaged by the virus.
