Do you ever place yourself into a historical story and wonder what you would have done had you been there?

When Jesus was on trial, would you have been one of those shouting “Crucify him,” or would you have recognized his goodness and refused to join the mob?

If you had been a Christian leader in Germany in the 1930s, would you have been part of the confessing church resisting the Nazis, or would you have followed the nationalist fever?

Or, maybe you would have been one of those who just look the other way, minding your own business, leaving the crucifixions and the politics to others. It’s tempting to look the other way when distressing things are happening beyond our powers.

It’s been said the onlything necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing. Right now evil is triumphing on our watch, and good people are doing nothing.

The place is far away and easy to ignore. It seems to be under our corporate radar. But in the Nuba Mountains of Sudan the specter of genocide looms right now, in our day.

Sudanese President Omar Hassan al-Bashir, charged with crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court, is orchestrating ethnic cleansing and using starvation as a weapon.

One of the voices of conscience trying to get our attention is The New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof. He tells the story of Hamat Dorbet, a 39-year-old Presbyterian pastor.

Starting a dozen years ago, authorities arrested Hamat for ringing his church bell and preaching to his Sunday congregation. Each Sunday he would be arrested and beaten for a few days. As soon as he recovered, he would return to ring the Sunday bell and be dragged away for more beatings and torture. He almost died once when he was shot. When he could move again a month later, he limped to the church and rang the bell again. Hewas probably saved by a peace accord that stopped the persecution.

But now he has nothing to eat. Like the rest of his neighbors, he’s trying to live on leaves, roots and insects.

Every day al-Bashir sends aerial bombings into the fields and villages of the Nuba Mountains.

Agriculture is impossible.

The planes target schools and hospitals and drop anti-personnel bombs full of ball bearings on villages. The government has blocked international aid.

The people hide in caves and eat what they can scrounge. Nearly a million are now out of food. Weakened people try to walk toward refugee camps that are stressed and overcrowded. There is the specter of genocide as starvation.

There are those who are trying to raise our attention. U.S. Rep. Frank Wolf, R-Va., and evangelist Franklin Graham have called for a response.

Fayetteville’s own Sam Totten is among a group of genocide scholars trying to raise awareness.

Right now defenseless people living in grass-roofmud huts are fl eeing to caves as they are attacked by airplane raids. America and our allies could enforce a no-fl y zone. We could bomb the runways and destroy the planes al-Bashir sends. We could drop food from the air and crate a humanitarian corridor for aid.

But we are doing nothing. And al-Bashir brags he has America in his pocket.

This is one situation where there is a very present evil that needs to be addressed, and helpless victims who will die slowly and miserably unless we do something.

We have the power to do something. We have the moral responsibility to do something. To look the other way is immoral.

Kristof recently returned from the Nuba Mountains.

He told of two sisters, the older, 6-year-old Israh Jibrael, tenderly feeding her starving 2-year-oldsister Nada, giving her leaves from a branch.

Kristof could tell that Israh was profoundly hungry herself, but she limited herself to only a few leaves, placing most of them in her weak sister’s mouth.

They were barefoot, clothed in rags, and their hair was turning brown from malnutrition.

Their village has had no regular food for fi ve months, since the Sudanese Army attacked. For fi ve months they have lived in caves and survived on leaves.

Manna from heaven is what they need. We have airplanes that can drop such manna. The only planes in their skies drop bombs.

On the weekend before we celebrate our own liberation, might we help another’s?

LOWELL GRISHAM IS AN EPISCOPAL PRIEST WHO LIVES IN FAYETTEVILLE.

Opinion, Pages 19 on 07/01/2012