Not The Hunger Games

Hungry? At a banquet?

You’re right. That doesn’t make any sense, but that’s exactly what some of us experienced recently at an event called The Hunger Banquet.

Staff and students were split into four separate classes: homeless, lower class, middle class, and upper class. Watching how our groups interacted with each other could easily be correlated to how people truly act in the Illinois class distribution. We saw those in the homeless group mad and feeling slighted for not receiving any food — yet they were too proud to beg those in the upper class for any. In contrast, those in the in the upper class became extremely picky about the food that was served to them — even to the point of exchanging their desserts to something that they liked better.

One guy in my discussion group had been a part of the upper class and suggested (to his table) that they give their desserts to the lower class. The rest of his table disagreed, and basically said, “We’ve earned this, so we should enjoy it.” Similar to what the true upper class thinks regarding what they have over what the lower class has.

The goal of The Hunger Banquet was to shed light on the different classes in our society — particularly homelessness. It wasn’t a true banquet, where one expects to be fed lavishly. We didn’t just learn about hunger, we experienced it. For a short evening, we experienced class disparity. We experienced being wealthy and poor (at least with food). Some people enjoyed a nice meal and left with extra food to take home while others only received a bowl of rice.

The Hunger Banquet panel shared their personal experiences with homelessness and talked about what dealing with poverty should look like as a Christian. Ultimately, the biggest impact came not from the words the panel spoke — not because they weren’t powerful and true —but  from watching some of our peers eat lavishly or watching some of our peers sit at a table with close to nothing. This isn’t something any of us want to experience. But now, because of this event, we can be a little more understanding in the way we interact with the homeless.


Christine Hartley and Kay Heiberger

Food For Thought

We CS students have been experiencing Chicago this semester through the theme of Hunger. Many of our practicum groups are preparing various aspects of a Hunger Banquet we’ll participate in later this month, and last weekend everyone went to the Lifeline Theatre Production of “Hunger.” The production was set during the Siege of Leningrad during World War II, a piece of history that most of us probably know very little about. The play was about a group of food scientists who work at a research institute in Leningrad and vow to protect their very large collection of seeds. The seeds have the potential to alleviate the starvation in Leningrad, but the scientists struggle themselves to survive and maintain sanity during the 872-day siege.

The play portrayed pieces of complexity and desperation by each of the scientists—and some of the emotional and physical effects of not having enough to eat. The play displayed a paradox—for those that survived the siege, amoral behavior was justified because they lived. Some of this amoral behavior might have been uncomfortable for us to witness or imagine doing ourselves—but then, none of us have ever been in a situation of absolute desperation. What kind of actions would we take—lying, stealing, prostitution – in order to survive? How tightly would you grip onto your life? We hope that none of us are ever really confronted with this issue.

This brings me back to Chicago. Most of us have never really been confronted by hunger, but for perhaps the first time, we are confronted every day on our way to work, or on the L or wherever we go. We see homeless people and we hear their cries of hunger but we don’t understand it. Maybe we have given a few dollars to a beggar on the street, or maybe we have volunteered at a soup kitchen a few times. But we have never thought about the deep implications about what it means to be starving. Maybe what seems amoral to us, is a means of survival for some. WE do not have to sacrifice our minds, or our bodies to survive. Most of us don’t even think about “survival.”

Let’s open our eyes to hunger this semester. Let us think about food differently. Let’s think about food as a means to survive and not just as enjoyment. Let us be thankful we’re not forced to make decisions between survival and our morality—but let us not forget those who are confronted with this every single day.


-Erica Beversluis

The Job Search: Pt. 3

When I was talking to my mom the other day, she told me, flat-out, that she doesn’t know anything about looking for a job in another city. I was well-aware of this fact already, but hearing her say it finally drove it home. 

A divide exists between me and my parents. There are some things that they simply cannot help me with. They can only support me up to a certain point, and after that, I’m on my own. As much as I relish the thought, it also scares me.

I love my parents. They worked hard and made an honest living, but neither one went to college. As much as my parents might think that they understand the college experience and what it means to pursue a career, I fear that they don’t. They don’t understand because they’ve never gone through the process. 

I wish they could have had the opportunities that they have been able to give me, but they didn’t. My mom once said that parents want their kids to have a better life than them. It’s only natural. 

But when the children actually attain that better life, it puts them at odds with their parents because each traveled down a different life path. And then, as much as they want to understand each other, they can’t.

My mom tells me I don’t have to live in my hometown. She says, “Go ahead and move. Go live anywhere.” But the tone she uses says something else. And then I get defensive, and it’s all downhill from there. 

From a career perspective, opportunities in my field don’t exist in that area. If I end up working for some small-town newspaper, something went seriously wrong in my life.

I want more than that.

– Alyssa Hoogendoorn