Half a tomato

Photo shared on Twitter by Marcus Rashford

Earlier this week, the agency I work for unexpectedly found itself responding to photos of utterly inadequate and miserly food parcels being sent to struggling families in lieu of free school meals. Instead of shopping vouchers worth £15 per child per week, schools had been encouraged to sign up to a government scheme for hampers, supposed to contain £15-worth of food. Some did: others, though, were nearer £5, and contained, moreover, carefully cut, weighed and measured out portions, wrapped in clingfilm or plastic bags. Not a single sliver or gramme more than whatever the minimum portion might be; no possibility of leftovers, or even a bite to be shared with mum.

As human beings, and as a Catholic agency rooted in the fundamental principle of dignity - which includes running our own supermarket voucher scheme - we were aghast. So were campaigners including Marcus Rashford, who took swift action to get the vouchers reinstated and families reimbursed by the catering companies. (Reinstated for now - the row rumbles on) But I remain haunted by those parcels; by the miserly measuring of pasta, fruit and ham, the halves of pepper and tomato. 

I normally have a vivid imagination, but today I cannot begin to imagine how it must be to be someone who decides that it is acceptable for a £15 or £30 hamper to contain so little food. I cannot imagine being the person who creates a spreadsheet, and fills it with carefully planned and measured meals: 50 grammes of pasta, say, 100 of cheese; two apples, ten slices of bread (for an exact number of sandwiches or toast), and the tiniest amount of carrot, barely enough for one portion. 

I cannot imagine being the low-paid workers tasked with assembling these hampers. Probably minimum wage earners, already struggling to keep themselves and their families afloat, preparing parsimonious parcels for families like themselves. There but for the grace of God go I... we sometimes murmur, with relief; but how must it feel to be tasked with doling out cruelty to people only one or two pay-cheques or setbacks removed from ourselves? 

Another photo shared on Twitter

And I cannot imagine how it must feel to be the recipients. To be a mother with a near-empty fridge, skimping on heating and hot water, waiting for the food parcel which will at least ensure my child gets some proper, nutritious food for the next few days. To be the child who is already all too aware of her family's insecurity and poverty: the child who has already internalised the effects of that poverty... the lack of hope, of dignity and self-worth; the shame of needing help; the stigma and scapegoating. And then to receive this... And to know that to these contractors, you're not even worth a whole tomato. 

On the same day that these photos appeared I saw this tweet from Pope Francis: A society is all the more human to the degree that it cares effectively for its most frail and suffering members, in a spirit of fraternal love. Yes, indeed; and I wonder what these parcels, and everything leading to them, say about us, and how human our society is - or is not. And I thought, too, of the abundant lavishness of God, and of Jesus, who, far from doling out slices of bread and careful portions of fish, created more than enough food, not only for a generous, filling banquet, but for several baskets of leftovers. 

No, I cannot imagine being those caterers or recipients, but I can instead focus on how all this does make me feel, and how it impels me to want to live, and respond. Generosity... kindness... compassion... respect... Gospel values intertwined with Catholic Social Teaching, which make me want people to truly know their worth, and be able to live lives consistent with their God-given dignity. To know they're worth infinitely more than half a tomato... and to be able to afford to buy a great big red, juicy bagful, along with the sort of shopping someone like me can easily take for granted.