Dear God (or equivalent metaphysical power of choice),

I’m in need of your help because I feel the world is turning cold around me and all I can do is live an amazingly pleasant existence.

Across the globe fellow human beings are so busy killing each other that I can barely keep up with the news. “Did you hear about the suicide bombing in Israel?” a friend asked me today. “Yeah, nine people died,” I responded.

“No, no, not the fourth one this weekend, where that pregnant mother was murdered . . . I’m talking about the fifth one, which took place at a mall. Hey, while we’re counting, wasn’t there one in Saudi Arabia, too? No wait — was that Bali? No, I think it was in Kuwait? No, maybe it was Spain? Morocco?”

I’m all confused; I guess I should just stop wondering about such things and try to get really drunk at that frat party tonight.

You see, it seems difficult to feel part of the world when I’m sleeping surrounded by the radiant beauty of Stanford’s palm trees under a warm California sun. I need your help to get myself and some of my friends motivated to engage issues larger than campus trails.

It’s been said again and again, but perhaps this echoes of some deep truth we all fail to admit: all we can think about is ourselves. Money: how much? Cars: which edition? Midterms: what grade d’ya get? Bragging rights, ego boosters and self-directed praise. There’s so much thought about ourselves it’s a wonder we ever get around to making friends. Then again, maybe we’re just doing that for networking.

But some of us have made it, I’m telling ya. Last weekend I had lunch with John Hatch, the founder of FINCA microfinance, down in L.A.

“How’d ya do it, John? How’d you create the second largest development lending institute in the world? What was your first year like?”

He laughed. “I was sitting on a plane, finishing a double-bourbon, when a lightening bolt from God hit me. It was then that I came up with the concept I needed to create FINCA. It was then that my life began.”

And boy, did his life begin! Thirty years, a couple billion dollars and operations in over 32 countries later, old Johnny was sitting here looking at me, a naive college kid soaking up his every word on a cool L.A. afternoon.

God — why can’t you lightning-bolt me and a couple of friends, for heaven’s sake? Give us a wake up call. All we talk about is Goldman Sachs and Porsches. Meanwhile, over 3 billion people in the world live on less than $2 per day.

You know exactly what I’m talking about.

We fly down to Cabo, Hawaii, Cancun (or fill in the blank) with our significant others or family and reflect upon the beauty of life; just blocks away from the walls that keep us happy and safe are the shanty towns whose inhabitants service our holiday needs and conveniences with a smile and nod.

This type of inequality holds true around the world. When a flight I was on last year ended up stranding me and some friends in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia for a week, I realized what $2 a day feels like. I saw $2 a day in the piss, blood and sweat of a malnourished nation in dire need of international aid that always seemed to arrive too little and too late.

I saw flies, AIDs, tents in streets and outdoor flea markets where villagers threw their bodies in front of taxis in hopes of a dime of charity. And where were the Americans? Safely nestled within the 20-foot high walls of a five star Hilton, rubbing elbows with State Department diplomats and the press, all while on the personal tab of Uncle Sam, who so graciously apologized for having stranded us here in this “God forsaken land.”

So God, why have you taken so much away from so many, yet left me here in the sunshine? When’s my lightning bolt going to arrive? What will it take for me to look beyond JobTrak, northern California’s warm sun and the sports page and begin to confront some of the issues in this world? Wasn’t Sept. 11 enough? When will I become a global citizen, one who doesn’t maximize personal assets, but rather personal empathy? How many more news stories will it take for me to realize that I could have just as easily been born into misery as I did into plenty?

When, for your sake, will I use the resources I’ve acquired at Stanford for something other than cocktail parties and professional connections?

Here’s what I think:

Watching a rape occur and remaining silent is against the law. Knowing that a crime is happening and not reporting it is similarly reprehensible. Many of us will eventually possess the money and resources to affect far more people than our immediate families. Not doing so — knowing that others will suffer — should indeed be considered criminal.

It should be a crime to remain idle to pivotal world issues when you have the resources to affect change. Anyone who attends Stanford needs to devote at least a portion of their lives toward affecting the world, whether it’s making your voice heard to colleagues at your future company or creating organizations with the intent purpose of bettering lives.

Throw out the hippie crap: I’m not talking about human shields, flower chains or midnight poetry jam sessions against war. I’m talking about tangible change using techniques that you’ve learned in school. I’m urging you to use your resources — both money and time — to make a positive impact in some part of the world. It doesn’t need to be international; it can be as close as East Palo Alto.

Remember the double bourbon and the lightning-bolt. Remember that you could have been born into a life of $2 a day. For heaven’s sake, remember to do something meaningful and to do it today.

Need a wake up call? E-mail me, I got plenty: pomerantz@stanford.edu.