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One Great Hour of Sharing
The Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival attracted more than 2.3 million people to watch its three-hour-plus Assembly and Moral March on Washington June 20 online and on cable TV.
U.S. immigrants are keenly aware that there is a difference between what the United States promises — the American Dream — and what many immigrants experience each day.
In the coming days, Presbyterians have multiple ways to show their support for refugees in the United States and abroad, including attending a virtual town hall on Thursday.
For nearly a dozen years, Laura VanDale has crisscrossed northeastern Ohio, encouraging congregations in the Presbytery of the Western Reserve to tackle the root causes of hunger.
With the coronavirus continuing to infect scores of people daily worldwide, the number of people experiencing acute hunger is expected to skyrocket globally, and some partners of the Presbyterian Hunger Program say the economic ramifications of the pandemic already are hurting the ability of people around the globe to feed themselves and their families.
In a world beset by disaster, hunger and oppression, One Great Hour of Sharing (OGHS) is dedicated to aiding the millions of people who lack access to sustainable food sources, clean water, sanitation, education and opportunity. Never has this been more prescient than in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic.
Remembering “the least of these” takes on greater significance during the coronavirus pandemic.
With many Americans losing the ability to work, school being canceled for millions of children, and child-care centers being shuttered in many places, the challenges of people already living on or near the edge of society become magnified.
As Americans watched the pandemic move across the globe with startling speed, we thought about our medically vulnerable relatives, our children and the elderly. We planned how to gather food and water, made sure we had medicine in our homes. We washed our hands, didn’t touch our face and if we had to leave the house, we put on a face mask. It was inconvenient, but for most of us, possible.
Hardly a day goes by without the Rev. Brad Munroe receiving a call from someone wanting to make a donation to help Native Americans in the southwestern United States, many of whom are struggling to cope with poverty and the weight of COVID-19 and its economic fallout.
It was early March, and the daily routine at Atlanta’s Mercy Community Church had been thrown for a loop.
