I’m a firm believer in Israel’s right to defend. If what happened to them happened to us, we would have dusted off the nukes. I know that we will send billions to help rebuild when it is over. I know that this is not the only aid that will be sent. I know… I know… I know… but…
The tug boat is towing a barge of food to Gaza, which I also firmly believe we should be doing. However, I could only imagine those on the Virgin cruise looking down on it and thinking, “Aren’t we good people for helping out.”
I can’t help but think that this is how we support the world when we could do so much more. We live in The Hunger Games, and we are The Capitol.
This from the hypocrite who is going to Spain to take a walk.
We’ve been reading the second book of The Hawk and the Dove Trilogy by Penelope Wilcock and tonight we discussed book two, The Wounds of God. Father Peregrine writes a poem that scandalizes a fellow monk but it is a poem that speaks and elicits the passion of God’s love.
This vigil is long. What time I have sat here, Watching the candle flame’s Slow, passionate exploration kiss the night. The blind and gentle thrusting tongue of light Finds out the secrets of the dumb receptive dark. Her sensuous silence trembles with delight.
Had this crazy idea this morning: what if we created a Place where we didn’t add labels to one another but had true fellowship, where we could come together and break bread and support each other? What if in that Place we didn’t seek to point out the sins of others but looked to ourselves and identified those errors in our own lives and then sought to turn from those errors? What if this Place was where we could grow and learn and demonstrate to others that there is another Way? What if in this Place we chose to love one another instead of hating and degrading everyone we disagree with? And what if in this Place we worked for true justice and peace and respected the dignity of every person regardless of any and all differences?
Can we create such a Place?
We can, with God’s help.
I will set a Table in this Place and prepare the meal.
I identify as sinner/Son. All sinners/Daughters and Sons are invited.
Place = God’s House & God’s Rule.
God’s Rule = Love one another as I have loved you.
What if we decided that a person’s right to oxygen was more important than a ten minute joy ride in space?
What if we decided that children should not be soldiers instead of being offended that someone might use our preferred pronoun when speaking to/of us?
What if we decided that raising people out of poverty where they live in garbage was more important than a film festival?
What if lives in India mattered as much as lives anywhere else?
What if a drink of water meant more than you getting to work faster?
You can call me a communist or something worse for thinking these “what ifs”, but I think of it as being a Christian. St. Paul would not rest until the sisters and brothers cared for those around them. Why do we?
Oxygen is a basic human right. What if we worked on solving this and then work our way up to the joy rides of our own egos and offenses. I am offended that we are not.
Arrived at the airport in Helena, Montana around 6 p.m…. yesterday! Flight left an hour or so later. Arrived in Salt Lake City and hung about for an hour or so, then at 11 p.m. caught the red eye to Atlanta. Why Atlanta, you ask: because I’m headed to Oklahoma City. Oh, wait… we just passed it and I’ve got to turn around and fly another couple of hours to get back to it. Well, such is the life of one on vacation: you occasionally have to pay for it.
To the confession: I’ve been wearing a mask the entire time. I am tired of the mask. I get the mask, but… so, as I’m walking the never ending concourses of the Atlanta airport, I see a fella has just finished cleaning the “Men’s”. No one else is around and I’m a rebel. I find myself a nice clean smelling stall, lock the door, rip off my mask, and just sit there for about ten minutes breathing eye-watering disinfected air free of my mask. It was brilliant! Please! No one tell the CDC.
It is now 5:52 a.m., “Dirty Laundry” is playing loudly in some closed up bar, and I’m in search of coffee, because I’ve also learned that as long as you are holding something to eat or drink, you can legally keep the mask off. My coffee may be as cold as a divorce lawyer, but I won’t be setting that cup down until it’s time to board.
Here’s hoping you have a mask free day from one living on the edge in toilet stalls across America.
When I was nine or ten, I remember coming home from school and wanting to watch cartoons and Star Trek, but every day and every channel was the same boring show. All these people talking. And talking. Sometimes they would become very animated in their talking, but it was always the same. Even though I had no idea what was going on, I would sit and wait, hoping they would get tired of all that talking so that I could see what Captain Kirk was up to (I always hoped for the Klingons to arrive. Very exciting.) What were these folks talking about? At the time, all I knew was that somebody had broken in and stolen a gate from a water building. Who knew they had such valuable things at the waterworks. Months later, we had a new president, the former resigning in shame.
I’ve shared with you in the past: I don’t preach politics. Never have. Never will. Instead, I choose to preach the Gospel, because as I’ve also shared with you, I believe that the Gospel Message is the most radical and revolutionary message every spoken. Politicians come and go and nations do the same, “‘but the word of the Lord remains forever.’ And this word is the good news that was preached to you.” (1 Peter 1:25)
In such heated political times as this, you may be wondering if I’m going to change my “policy” on preaching politics. The answer is: absolutely not, but I would be a poor priest if I did not provide some guidance through it, and the question that keeps running through my mind is: How should we as a Christian people respond? Scream a little louder? Sign another petition? Join a protest? Make nasty comments on social media (the equivalent of doing nothing)? Vote (always a good idea)? Not to be the pessimist in the group, but all of these have been tried and all they’ve really produced are people shouting even more loudly, paper wasted, more violence, a disintegration of tolerance and respect, and politicians who, once in office, end up being no better than their predecessors.
Thank you for the commentary, Fr. John, but you still haven’t answered the question: what should the Christian response look like?
I’m glad you asked!
“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2:9) What are we to do? We are to be the royal priesthood, proclaiming the Kingdom of God. Not as our earthly leaders do, but as our Lord and Savior has taught us. We are to be a nation, a Christian race that is set apart, not indulging in the sins of the world, but demonstrating the path of righteousness. We are to be the Lord’s possession, not giving our allegiance to things that are passing away, but to Him who was, who is, and who will come again. We are to be all these things, witnessing not to a campaign slogan, but to the eternal Love of God. Unlike everything else that makes the news these days, what we do for the Kingdom won’t make good TV, it won’t draw large crowds, and it will likely only change the lives of a very few, but… You’ve all heard the story before:
A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.
She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!”
The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference for that one!”
That is the ending I’ve always heard, but recently I came across another:
The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved.*
Perhaps that’s just a bit too naïve, too optimistic, but I’m really not a pessimist.
Make a difference… be the light for one person. This is our politics. Be the leader, the royal priest to one person, pointing them to the path of eternal life, so that they may do the same for another. It is through this great work of the Gospel that we will affect eternal change in the lives of many and that we may affect change in our society.
*“The Starfish Story” is adapted from The Star Thrower by Loren C. Eiseley
Candle in a Cave 