We Are All the Same

Today is World AIDS Day. Too few people mark this day, perhaps because of the sad nature of this remembrance in the midst of the holiday season. But as we prepare for the light to burst forth in the darkness it is appropriate to take a look around at the suffering in the world.

There are 40 million people in the world infected with HIV. Just this year 3 million people have died of AIDS. In Swaziland, 38% of the population is infected with HIV. In South Africa, AIDS is the leading cause of death for children under the age of five.

Read that last paragraph again and try to comprehend the magnitude of this pandemic. More people have died of AIDS this year than died in the war in Iraq, the hurricanes in the Gulf, the earthquake in Kashmir and even the tsunami last year…combined!

That is great darkness in which to hope for light. But in a world where people living with HIV/AIDS are the obvious equivalent of the lepers of Biblical times, where do you think would be a good place to look for the birth of the promised messiah?

I heard again today about the book, We Are All the Same about a young South African boy, Nkosi Johnson, who died of AIDS. He knew that life is terminal, and that for him it would be short so he spent his time doing only that which was of most importance. His adoptive mother, Gail Johnson, is an AIDS activist who, among other things, has opened inns for mothers with AIDS. What a wise woman to make room at her inn that the Christ may be born!