All in all my 2017 has been good, if only because my book finally saw the light of day.
“Those who cannot see the face of Christ in the poor are atheists indeed.” — Dorothy Day
I sometimes wondered if The View From Down in Poordom: Reflections on Scriptures Addressing Poverty would ever get published at all. It’s hatching was delayed by one setback after another beyond my control.
But then in early February, the slim volume that I had worked so many hours perfecting and cutting down to a concise number of pages finally went on sale online.
I never expected The View From Down in Poordom to reach a reading audience of Stephen King-ish or John Grisham-ish proportions in terms of sales. But sales of it have actually exceeded that which I expected.
Marty Jones, a longtime friend of mine, told me this week that she bought four copies of the book that she gave as Christmas presents.
Click on the picture to enlarge and see the Table of Contents of The View From Down in Poordom.
A lot of friends and other readers out there in the wide world of spiritual readers have told me that they bought multiple copies for Bible study classes or Sunday school lessons. That gratifies me to no end because I always believed the little book could be a big conversation starter for group discussion on poverty-and-wealth, which can be such a hot-button topic these days.
I’m proud of The View From Down in Poordom and believe it couldn’t have hit the market at a more relevant time. People, sometimes Christians more than anyone, continue to blame and scapegoat the poor and powerless in society for all our economic and social woes.
In fact, it seems that the denigration of the poor — and the exploitation of the working poor who can’t possibly get a fair piece of the economic pie working two or even three low-wage jobs — is getting far worse.
This in spite of what our political leaders — who in all their brazen cynicism never let us forget how Christian they are while giving comfort and succor to those as rich as they are — keep promising.
I’ve often said that the book isn’t a partisan political book or a polemical tract, and from all the reviews of it, readers agree.
Nor is the book a blistering critique of capitalism, even though it’s hard on the mindless, unbridled capitalism that I believe is leading American society — and the Christian faith tradition, for that matter — down the tubes. (See news of all the cynical Christian faith leaders jumping on the unbridled capitalism wagon with cynical political leaders to enrich themselves beyond belief.)
All that said, I’ll let you the could-be reader be the judge of The View From Down in Poordom, which is available in hardcover, soft cover or on your Kindle or Nook.
While you’re stocking up on books for the new year give the book, with illustrations by my friend the retired Rev. Keith L. Head, a read.
It’s available here at Amazon.com (and check out the reviews!).
Also available at Barnes & Noble here.
And also at the publisher’s online bookstore here.
The most in-depth review of the book can be found here at that might good book review site goodreads.com. Or you can read the review by Jim Barlow — an atheist who liked the book! — as follows:
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Diving into a book centered on Bible scriptures and commentary on the poor and poverty today was intimidating. While I learned a lot about right and wrong from my childhood exposure to religion, as an adult I have chosen atheism, but with the understanding that religion for many is truly a worthy guiding light.
That said up front, I read and received a spiritual lift from Paul McKay’s thought-provoking book “The View from Down in Poordom.”
A disclaimer: McKay is a friend. At one time we were journalists with the same employer. He turned into a Methodist minister.
How do Christians today respond to the poor?
That’s the big question of McKay’s book, which runs just 83 pages. The way McKay presented his chosen scriptures and translated them to fit today’s world was superb and intellectually educational. However, I read the book with a broader view.
This book need not apply only to Christians. In this world of growing income inequality in the aftermath of the Great Recession, McKay is asking us to re-evaluate who we are.
McKay tells of his own background and how family experiences shaped his thinking and led him into the ministry. He gives us a framework for considering suffering and poverty, especially in Belize, where he now lives.
In Chapter Two, we meet Francisco, whose story became known because McKay took the time to talk with him. Once a hard-working man, Francisco was left destitute and on the streets because of an accident that wasn’t his fault and cost him both legs and livelihood. His ultimate fate was heart-breaking.
Later, we meet Chanzy, who McKay stopped to help when he saw him resting against a broken-down car, crying. McKay calls upon the Bob Dylan song “Everything is Broken” to shape his story about both Chanzy’s life, which was one of poverty and strong spirituality, and similar situations confronting all of us.
As I read about Francisco and Chanzy, I could hear the voice of the Grateful Dead’s Jerry Garcia singing in “Wharf Rat” to a down-and-out man: “I got no dime, but I got some time to hear your story.”
Chapters Six and Seven deliver the punch of McKay’s message.
Chapter Six tackles the notion, often used by politicians, put forth by the apostle Paul: “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat.” McKay addresses the “troubling aspect of acrimony over who should provide for the poor and struggling people,” taking on politicians, corporations and Christians, as well. He hits on our consumer-oriented culture and political and religious scapegoating.
Chapter Seven addresses personal responsibility and calls for honesty about how some poor seem to take comfort in their poverty. McKay tells the story of a minister who struggled with a decision to refuse monetary help to an angry, young woman. Was the minister’s decision wrong, or did it plant a seed? Can we, should we, help everyone?
Both chapters should be required reading, regardless of anyone’s religious affiliation, and, especially, for politicians, both liberal and conservative.
McKay provides thought-provoking nuggets about poverty (material and spiritual), about individuals and families living poor, and about the dangers and pitfalls of greed and wealth.
In closing, McKay asks, “So What?” Do we as individuals give money directly to the poor, donate to food banks or shelters, minister to them or ignore them and walk away?
McKay hits us on the head with the issue of poordom, but he also provides intelligent perspective that might just provide us a roadmap.
McKay’s overall message, in my view, emerged in a paragraph early in the book.
“When it comes down to it, the poor aren’t ‘the poor,’” McKay writes. “The poor are people, and people need loving, caring friends. Poor people are people who want and need the same thing that you and everyone else, including the rich, want and need — and that’s love.”
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