Family Trials

Jeremiah 38: 4-6, 8-10; Hebrews 12: 1-4; Luke 12: 49-53

There are no mincing words in today’s gospel. It seems as if there’s no good news as Jesus speaks of division among family, if you believe good news is simply keeping the peace. We must, though, put it in context. For the past several weeks, probably back to the Good Samaritan in mid-July, Jesus has been, in one way or another, attacking different institutions. He doesn’t always do it by judgment directly, but rather through these rather provocative statements and stories which keep inviting the disciples into deeper understanding. He goes after the political authorities. He certainly goes after the religious institution of his day. So why not go down to the most basic of institutions that we all are a part of, family.

The time of Jesus was no different than our own. Institutions, including family, are about keeping the peace rather than seeking peace. Now we all know what that means. It’s about avoiding problems out of fear. There always seems to be the “elephant in the room” that no one is allowed to talk about out of fear how it is going to be seen by the rest of the world. It’s about avoiding these conflicts to grow and become more integrated people; it’s about keeping the peace as we have determined and anyone that tries to disrupt that is so often ostracized.

It should be no surprise to any of us that it would filter up into these larger institutions that we are a part of in this world. We have seen it in the Church over the years and the abuse scandal. It became about protecting the institution rather than the people. We certainly see it with our political parties. You even hear them say it that it’s for the party and not about the good of the country. Institution first before the people that are being impacted by it all. Even if you read any of the DOJ report on Baltimore this week you would have seen more of the same. It’s about protecting the institution rather than the good of the people. These realities are the same realities of the time of Jesus, but over these weeks he’s trying to move the disciples to see differently and hear differently. Today, he takes it to the core, the family, where so much of it begins and we learn our learned responses to dealing with life that we so often have to let go of in order to grow and become the prophetic voices of the disciples.

No one does it better than Jeremiah that we hear in today’s first reading. Who’s he up against? Political class. He’s facing the princes of his day who want him dead. Jeremiah has the conscience the size of the earth and doesn’t always know what to do with it. He struggles greatly trying to be faithful to the word of God in his life. He allows the word to change his heart and then struggles when he finds himself in these situations where he has to speak truth and raise consciousness of the leaders. So what do they do with him? He’s thrown into the cistern. He too is ostracized. They don’t try to reconcile the problems and seek the good. Rather, they blame him and try to get rid of what they think is the problem. King Zedekiah is thrown in the middle of it and is left with a choice. Is he going to keep the peace with the princes or side with Jeremiah. It’s so often advocates for the prophets that frees them and that’s the case for Jeremiah. He’s freed despite the danger that he poses to these institutions because of the interior freedom that Jeremiah continues to seek. That’s the peace that Jesus seeks for his disciples and us.

But there is a great price for living differently in that way. The writer of Hebrews speaks of the suffering that one must undergo in life with Jesus being the model for his disciples. He really isn’t about keeping the peace as we have come to know. Rather, he desires a deeper peace. It’s messy. It’s hard. It comes with great suffering and great cost with the possibility about being thrown into the cistern, sinking in the mud. But when we allow our hearts to be changed by the word and we grow as adults it comes with great freedom as it does for Jeremiah.

Unfortunately, we too continue to live at a time when prophetic voices are silenced. We don’t want to hear it on all levels of institution. We live in great fear so often and sell fear because it becomes the norm. Rather than confronting the real problems that this city faces, this country faces, and this world faces, we try rather to keep the peace and protect something that isn’t even real in the first place! We strive for our own interest rather than seeking a more just society by entering into the messiness of our lives, just as Jesus does for us.

As we continue in prayer today, we pray not only for families that do face great divisions but the divisions that exist on all levels of our lives. Rather than seeking to keep the peace we must enter into the difficult conversations to seek reconciliation in our lives and world. It begins at the most basic level of our lives, the family. We can’t expect change on greater levels if we’re not willing to do it in our own lives. Otherwise we simply blame and continue this cycle of victimhood all at the price of human lives. We pray for peace, not in the way we have come to know, but in the peace that Jesus desires for us; that our hearts may be opened to these words and change the way we see, hear, and love so that the kingdom that Jesus preaches may become a reality, a kingdom of eternal peace.

Neighborly Love

Deut 30: 10-14; Luke 10: 25-37

The gospel we hear today, the Good Samaritan, is one of those passages that is really hard to preach on. We’ve heard it a thousand times and so we know it and then have a tendency to tune it out. It makes it hard to hear it different and it makes it hard to says something different about it as well. Because it’s so familiar, even in our laws, we view it from our own particular lens. All of our lives and our baggage is viewed through the lens of the story. There’s also the backdrop of the revolving door of violence that we once again see in this city and country that really challenges us to look at the question of who is our neighbor and in what ways are we neglecting others. Lastly, there is the backdrop of the gospel itself and what was happening at that time when the story is told and written down that influences why it’s told. So there’s a lot going on to understanding and yet being challenged to hear and live in a new way through the story of the Good Samaritan, bearing in mind all of these backdrops that influence the story. Quite honestly, it would have been a whole lot easier if the story ended after the first question and answer, but Luke, unlike the others, has this way of throwing zingers into the story that make you stop, just as he does by adding the story of the elder son in the Prodigal Son parable.

One of the main backdrops of the gospel itself is this law of what it means to be clean and unclean. As a matter of fact, if you read the gospels through it’s as if they were obsessed with this law. The reality is, according to the law, the priest and the Levite in today’s gospel did nothing wrong. They did what the law had prescribed at crossing the street and avoiding the person that was beat up, robbed, and now half dead. However, their obsession with the law stands in the way of the essence of that very law of loving God and neighbor, as the scholar of the law asks of Jesus. Everything becomes about separation. They learn to separate themselves from the unclean, the impure, what they perceive as wrong and bad, all for the sake of their own self. Their entire relationship with God was tied up in this belief and still is for some, thousands of years later! As long as I separate from it and stay clean then I’m good with God and good with others. If the scholar of the law wasn’t so hung up on tripping Jesus up and winning this argument, he would have left it go at that point rather than posing the real question, then, who is my neighbor. The scholar opens the door and Jesus walks through.

In comes the Samaritan. The one the scholar would have considered the most unclean and the one that is hated enters the scene with the largest heart. There are probably a variety of reasons that we can say on behalf of the Samaritan. The Samaritan really has nothing to lose. Although the Pharisees would try to hold them to their obsession with the law, they don’t. That’s not to say that the Samaritan is perfect. They have their own issues with the Jews but the difference is, the Samaritans are already unclean and on the bottom of the barrel and they really have nothing to lose. The culpability comes on behalf of the Pharisees who are the holders of the law and have the perceived power; the Samaritans, not so much.

The one that really would find themselves in a bind is the one lying on the side of the road, beaten up, robbed, and half dead. They’re most likely a Jew coming from Jerusalem and now they have been cared for by the one hated the most and the one who is unclean, the Samaritan. We can only believe that there would be a crisis of faith on his part as to how to reconcile this obsession with the law and the experience of the essence of the same law by the one who had been separated from the rest. You know, it’s one thing to consider myself neighgor to the one that talks like me, acts like me, talks like me, looks like me, believes like me. But, you got to believe that was never the intention nor the demand of this gospel. Quite frankly, that plays from the place of comfort, from the place of the priest and Levite of ourselves. When we do this, that’s how so much violence continues to happen around us because we continue to separate and divide ourselves and deciding for ourselves who will be our neighbor rather than seeing all, especially those who are hurting the most as our neighbor. We can be complicit in violence simply by our lack of responsibility and empathy towards the other.

In his own farewell discourse today, Moses tries to convey that to the Israelites. They think they can’t do it without him, that somehow he’s the one who takes responsibility for their lives. He says in such a beautiful way that it’s not his responsibility! You don’t need to cross the sea or go up into the sky, the gift to bridge these divides is already within each of you. It’s the responsibility of all of us. We can choose to blame and not take responsibility for our own violence in our lives when we fail to forgive and reconcile or when we choose to cross the street out of fear of the one who may make me unclean, but deep down we’ll start to feel as if something is missing, something is separated and is yearning to return and unite.

We can make this story about what we normally do about going and being kind but what the heck does that mean anyway. The demand of Jesus in this story and overall is not kindness, albeit important, but rather love and mercy. If we continue to separate ourselves, and we do it with this city, that somehow that’s their problem and not ours. No. It’s all our problem because hurt is a human problem. So much violence connotes hurting people, people wanting to be heard, a voice crying out, and if we choose to ignore it, then we are no better than the priest and Levite in today’s gospel. According to the letter of the law, we’ve done nothing wrong, but at our very essence and the essence of our humanity, we are just as culpable because they are our neighbor and our neighbor is us. In what ways am I choosing to separate, often at my own doing and out of a deeply rooted fear, that which I have deemed unclean, impure, bad, or wrong, the Samaritan within myself, that helps me to empathize with the other; not just be kind to neighbor, but to love more deeply all our brothers and sisters, both here and beyond.

Pushing Through the Pain

Isaiah 35: 4-7a; James 2: 1-5; Mark 7: 31-37

“Be strong, fear not!” are the words we hear from Isaiah today, a message of hope to people Israel as they push through and return from Exile. Yet, it’s a message that doesn’t always seem to jive with the reality of what we see in our world. It’s hard to forget, and maybe we’re not supposed to, the image of that young Syrian boy washed up on the shore, dead, fleeing for life. Or closer to home, a young ten year old shot this week in the city, among many others who have been shot and or killed over these past months…it seems difficult to have hope in the face of so much suffering. We somehow think that politics will, in some way, take care of these problems, fix them, make them go away, and yet we can see how far that goes. These aren’t political problems but rather deep human suffering that can’t be fixed, only healed.

Like any of us, when we find ourselves in such desperation, and maybe that’s the hard thing for people like us who live pretty comfortably, to be at wits end with life, trying to survive, to imagine what it must be like. Yet, we are all designed to know deep down that there’s something more to life. This can’t be it. There’s got to be something more to it all than such suffering. So people flee for somewhere else and something more, hoping for a better life and willing to risk it all for that, even to the point of death. Most of us don’t know such desperation nor suffering in that way.

It’s so often the motivation for people Israel, now finding themselves moving out of exile in today’s first reading from Isaiah. Even in the midst of believing God had abandoned them. Somehow God had driven them into such destruction. Somehow God didn’t care. Yet they lived with that hope that Isaiah speaks of today. There is that internal drive within them that carries them on and through some of the darkest moments and days of their lives. How can they ever forget the experience? They keep pushing through, fear not, be strong, that internal drive that takes them through the pain and into life, back to the place they call home. So often we hear Pope Francis say go to the place of the pain, the place of suffering. Now we know we must do it in our own lives as well, but he encourages us to go to it in our world. It’s not only the other who will be healed, it’s us who are changed and transformed.

It’s way too easy for us to separate ourselves from the pain of the world and our own pain for that matter. It’s so easy for us to say, all of what we see going on around us and the world, is not our problem. Yet, if another suffers, we all suffer. How can we not be so moved when we see that young boy lying on the shoreline? How can we not be so moved when we hear of ten year olds and teens being shot and or murdered in this city? Maybe it’s not them that are in exile but me and you. Maybe it’s us who are self-reliant. Maybe it’s us who, comparatively speaking, live pretty well. Maybe it’s us who are self-sufficient and without such great needs. Maybe it’s all of us that contribute and turn a blind eye to our own participation in corrupt systems that perpetuate so much of the suffering in our world and lives. Those who suffer and live in desperation have nowhere else to turn but to a power much larger than themselves, praying to pass through into the life that God calls them to now. We’ll do anything to avoid it and turn away from it rather than to learn as people Israel, to go straight into the eye of the storm of our lives and the lives around us in order to heal the other and ourselves. God wants to use that pain to bring not only us but others to life.

Jesus goes out of his way to seek out the deaf man with a speech impediment in today’s gospel. If you check out the geography lesson at the beginning of the gospel today you’ll find that he goes nearly thirty miles out of his way to reach this place of pain, to go to this place of suffering. We must keep in mind the life that this guy would have led at that time. He too would have been isolated and not a part of the community. He was seen as having something wrong with him. It’s almost as if Jesus was honing in on his pain, his own exile, separated from the community, wanting to bring him into life. He literally, as the reading tells us, touches with his hand and finger the very place that hurts to make whole again. This guy is not only one who needs physical healing but spiritually and internally as well. But again, who is it really that lives in exile; is it not again the one who turns a blind eye and have exiled him from the community?

James certainly seems to say it quite plainly and openly in today’s second reading and challenges us to recognize where we are separating those who are suffering in our lives and world. When we exile those who are poor and suffering we exile ourselves. As he says, it says more about us than it does the poor. It’s our own judgment. When we can’t confront the pain in our own lives it’s increasingly difficult to walk through it with others. James challenges us to do so in this reading today. Like people Israel and so many others in our world, there is hope in that we will pass through into life.

We will do anything to detour and separate the suffering of our lives and that of the world. We simply try to politicize it and make it someone else’s problem. Yet, the more we choose to do it that way the more we exile ourselves. That has consistently been the message of Pope Francis and I’m sure it will be when he comes here in a few weeks. There will always be that part of us that tells us there’s got to be something better but to get there, oh, it can be so painful, to the point of losing our very lives. Yet, that’s where we are led, to the place of healing through the place of pain which leads, exactly where God has always wanted us, the place of life. In the face of such adversity and suffering in our world, we pray we continue to not turn a blind eye or a deaf heart, but rather dive into the suffering of our lives and world. We will not only be changed but the world with change with us.

Great Love in the Midst of Deep Suffering

1 Jn 3: 18-24; John 15: 1-8

Remain in me as I remain in you…and become my disciples.

I wasn’t about to let fear to hold me back from going further down into the city this week. How easy it would have been to remain hunkered down in my house, feeling helpless, and never stepping out the front door and down the street because of fear. Yet, I didn’t want to believe that what I saw on television was true. I didn’t want to believe places burning, national guard in place, people destroying property. I didn’t want to believe it was true, even though I knew it was at least partially true. But I wasn’t going to allow fear to stop me. Heck, as crazy as it is, I was probably more worried that something would happen to my car than to myself. All the times I’ve driven through West Baltimore and other areas, I never really felt unsafe. Uncomfortable, yeah, probably, but never unsafe.

And so I went. And I went a few times after that to different locations, mainly to listen more than anything. On Tuesday evening I found myself driving through the national guard, as surreal as that was. Quite honestly, the only other time I’ve experienced something like that was with the United Nations in the different Third World countries that I’ve done mission trips to over the years, and yet, here it was in my own city and in my backyard. That alone left me anxious, wondering what I was doing and where I was at that time.

At the gathering I had attended, I found myself overwhelmed by it all. I was overwhelmed that this was real and it was happening in this city, even though I am aware of the history of the city and the many issues it’s had over the past decades and beyond. There was a young African American woman that spoke and all I truly remember were the tears and her words, “Where there is deep pain, great love will follow.” I was truly overwhelmed by it all and nearly lost it myself as I looked out over the crowd that had gathered, wondering, disillusioned, hopeful, questioning,still in shock with tension that could be cut with a knife, and this young woman put her finger right on it, where there is deep pain, great love will follow…and she really believes it.

Remain in me as I remain in you…we hear parts of that in today’s Gospel from John and have reflected deeply upon these readings this week. The message is carried over in the second reading as well. More than anything, when there is such deep pain, and I witnessed it and heard it the times I’ve ventured out into the streets, listening and remaining is what we can most offer. In these situations we want to do something and that’s great and often necessary, but to be the peacemakers, the disciples, that we are called to be, we must also learn to sit with the tension and the rawness of reality in order to grow from and through it. Once again it will be quite easy to sweep things under the rug or try to fix them through politics, but what we experience here this week is something much deeper than problems that can be fixed. We must go below the surface of the skin and ask ourselves serious questions and sit with the uncomfortableness of it all to grow as individuals and community. Where there is deep pain, great love will follow; remain in me as I remain in you…and be my disciples.

Along with the deep pain and certainly not disconnected from it all was a sense of hopelessness. When you have nothing to lose, who cares! There’s more than the untimely death of a young man in all of this; although he becomes the catapult for it all. There is racism. There is extreme poverty in this city. There is a lack of jobs, especially for lower income neighborhoods. There is resentment. There is anger. There is the lack of quality education. There is a lack of fathers and men who can mentor and be the non-judgmental figure for young men that have given up hope. There is a drug problem, but that too lies in the surface of deeper hurt, anger, grief, and so much that we hold onto as individuals and community. Yet, where there is deep pain, great love will follow, when we no longer avoid the pain but rather go through it, the narrow path we call the Cross, that leads to that great love.

I question how effective religion has been. When there is so much hopelessness, where is faith? Even in the midst of despair, when we have that grounding in faith and Christ Crucified now raised from the dead and remain in him as he remains in us, we manage to see hope through it all. When we lose that, where then do we turn? We become boxed in to our own little world, overcome by our own pain and grief and never to experience the great love. All too often we are left with politics and activists in it all, which are fine as far as they go, but that’s not what we’re called to, we’re called as the gospel tells us today, to be his disciples. Disciples bring healing. Disciples bring unity, not division and discord. Disciples bring reconciliation. Disciples bring a listening ear and that great love with them where they go, most especially to that place of deep pain and suffering. If we’re afraid to go there we will find ourselves to go down the same path again, not to be transformed, but rather clinging to clanging cymbals, hope that isn’t really hope in the first place, expecting change to happen around us where as disciples, we’re called to seek change to happen to us, all of us.

I leave you with two questions to reflect upon this week in light of all that we have seen and listened to this week. One, where is God in the midst of it all? Even in the deepest pain, God is present. Where did we see God? And second, in what way is God calling me to change, to be healed, to grow in light of these events? That’s sometimes the tougher question to answer for all of us because we don’t always want to admit that we have to change. We can easily disconnect from these events and say they don’t concern me. Well guess what, we all participate in the dysfunction of these systems and as long as we are still breathing, God calls us to grow and change. That’s reality. So, ask yourself, how did I react this week? Where did I overreact or judge? That, my friends, is exactly where God wants to meet us and change us into his disciples. Where there is deep pain, great love will follow. As Christ’s disciples, in a city that hurts and in a world that hurts, we bring that love and we don’t allow fear to stop us and hold us back from being the people and community Christ is calling us to be at this time and the city needs us to be at this time. We are called to bring healing. We are called to be the peacemakers, which is hard work, messy, but in the end, the only way. We are called to bring reconciliation. We are called to bring a listening ear, while remaining in him as he remains in us…now, be my disciples.

Winners and Losers then No One Wins

I enjoy watching sports as much as the next person. It’s ingrained in our culture and certainly a part of Americana. We all want to see our teams win; yet, with a win, someone else must lose and experience the agony of defeat. It was that way Saturday evening at Camden Yards, all tied up in the bottom of the ninth, Red Sox versus Orioles. It would take an extra inning, but the Orioles, with a walk-off home run, would pull one out on one of their fiercest rivals, the Boston Red Sox. It was a thrilling win and hopefully a turning point after a rough start to a season.

As much as winning and losing in sports is a part of the fiber of our being in this country, life isn’t always that way. Yet, it has trickled over into other aspects of our lives where I must be superior over the other, come out on top, be the winner despite the fact that someone then must lose. What does that do to the relationship? Can a relationship exist when it’s about winning and losing, rather than finding ways for a ‘win-win’, understanding, and reconciliation? Where does that leave the one that ‘lost’? What does it do to my own ego, the self-proclaimed winner in the face of the agony of such defeat and who else must I defeat to build on that thinking?

On Saturday evening, the winning and losing at Camden Yards was the backdrop of a larger reality that unfolded outside the stadium. Late in the game it was announced that fans must stay put in the stadium rather than venture out onto Eutaw Street to go wherever it is they were heading. Peaceful protests, regarding the death of Freddie Gray, turned sour with people injured, property destroyed, more than thirty arrested, and a city trying to grapple with a reality that, as we do so often, has drawn a line in the sand asking the wrong question of who’s the winner and who’s the loser, who’s right and who’s wrong, within the context of the death of a young man and yet problems that are much larger and deeper than his death. That’s what we like and it’s what we want, or so says our minds and our ego. It deepens divides that already exist and we never find resolution and healing. It gives one side proof that they’re right while the other is wrong and vice versa. It makes for great news drama and the way the story is spun by different broadcasts. It fuels tension and an already deep-seeded anger and mistrust which will always find a way to makes its way out into the world, often violently against ourselves and others. We find ourselves at a stalemate. We find ourselves between a rock and hard place, so wanting to choose sides, and how easy it is to do when one man is dead on one side and the “proof in the pudding” on the other as the violence erupted on Saturday evening and continues to unfold. Who am I to side with on this; who wins and who loses? Yet, I feel helpless, trying to sit in the tension of what is happening trying to make sense and peace with all of it.

If you’re anything like me, it’s hard to put yourself in the place of Freddie Gray. His life is not my own and his reality, if stories are correct, was nothing like the reality that I grew up and the reality I live in, despite living in the city of Baltimore. First of all, I’m some white guy trying to put myself in his place, which I can’t do; but I also believe it should not be so difficult for any of us to empathize with him, considering his life was cut short, and if it were someone in my family or yours, we too would be outraged. It’s safe to say, no one deserves that type of treatment and to be stripped of his dignity, regardless of his lived reality. However, ever-so subtly, lines are drawn and speculation is presented. He was dealing drugs. He was in trouble with the law many times over. The police were just trying to be preventative. The bottom line, so it is said, he was a troublemaker. All of that, begins to cloud my vision and what I see and the person I see as Freddie Gray. I begin to make judgment, no thanks to the news. Maybe he got what was coming to him? There’s one less ‘problem’ in the city. He brought it on himself. How can I even begin to think like that?!? I begin to make winners and losers in the case. It’s hard for my mind and my own brokenness not to devolve in such unhealthy ways and to react out of judgment; it happens in an unconscious way for all of us, especially if we’re not aware of it happening, and before you know it, sides are chosen, winners are chosen and resentment and anger builds and spills out into the streets.

But I also have a hard time putting myself in the place of police officers and politicians, including the mayor. I wouldn’t want any of their jobs. I can’t even begin to imagine what the roles they play does to one person. However, like Freddie, they too are human; something we can all relate to. They face a reality everyday unlike my own with much bigger problems that I would say, just as in the life of Freddie Gray, are beyond my understanding and can be extremely complex. The city faces problems that go way beyond politics, a reality that goes beyond judgment, it just is the case. Poverty, inequality, and so on go much deeper than the color of one’s skin or their mental state. Yet, that automatic pilot within me kicks in once again. I make judgments on what I have seen. If the police can break minor traffic laws that I’ve witnessed in my neighborhood, who’s to say what else is done when I’m not or someone else is not looking? Does it automatically put an element of doubt in my mind, especially after seeing the violence on Saturday evening? Maybe the police are right? What if I were in their place and pushed to such limits at times, what would I have done? Maybe they’re just doing their job and we all just have to live with the consequences and chalk the whole thing up as a mistake? Can we then live with such a reality since it then defines how we go forward in the future? How can I even begin to think like that; and yet I do, and maybe it’s my own uneasiness of such anger and the loss of control, but can’t that be said of everyone? Have I not been outraged at injustice and hurt in my own life, burying it deep within, only to have it spill out into my own life and actions? Again, sides are chosen, winners and losers are drawn; feeling helpless becomes the lived reality.

Winners and losers are great with sports, but in real life, when there are winners and losers, we all come out as losers and no one wins. No one wins when everything is kept on the surface, judged by behaviors, and within my thinking patterns and never moving below the surface because I will always dig my heels into the ground. We so often refuse to deal with the deeper issues at hand because it forces all of us to look at ourselves, no matter whether we are police or citizen, black or white, or however else we have drawn the line and split reality, because then we all are put in a position to change our thinking and our behavior and the way we respond to issues that present themselves, responding with love, compassion, and understanding. When we can no longer see each other as the same, and I’m not always sure that’s entirely possible, but when we no longer even try to see each other as the same, violence will always erupt because sides will be chosen, my position in the community will define where I stand, winners and losers will happen, resentment will grow deep within us, and a split reality will take shape, where in the end, a win-win becomes impossible, relationship breaks down, and unfortunately, no one wins and everyone loses.

That is the true reality of where we are at in this city, lost in the midst of a great divorce, trying to pick up pieces, not speaking to one another or simply speaking past one another, questioning the truth and lost in speculation, wondering what’s next, deciding on who’s right and wrong, what side will I choose, and so on and so on; the unending conveyor belt of questions that loom in my mind, split from my heart and quite possibly, the heart of the city. Anger, bitterness, and resentment loom on this cloudy afternoon. The city, after a tumultuous weekend and now spilling over into a new week, is left with such questions engulfed in a debate of the culture within, but also an invitation into the deeper questions on identity and who the city wants to be; can it be reconciled and healed? That can only come through honest dialogue, free of judgement and legalities, through person to person, side to side, coming to a common ground, found at its core, charm city as she’s known, a winner in my books. The city, and each of us, stands at a threshold before we are too quick to choose sides, draw lines and act out of our own judgments, a few things for all of us to ponder as we try to breathe deeply these days, trying to respond with dignity, love, and compassion. Do I go back to what has been once again and a reality that has not worked and is not working, leaving all of us lost in the end or do I use the opportunity to cross over into something new, a greater lived reality where we all come out with a win and free? It’s not just a question for the mayor or the police department or any one neighborhood; rather, it’s a question we all must sit with and reflect upon if we are to confront problems and change culture, honestly and head-on, and rise above to become what we all dream this city to be, a city that has lost a lot but lives with the opportunity for some great wins in the future.

Reconciling the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Acts 4: 8-12; IJn 3: 1-2; John 10: 11-18

Every year on the Fourth Sunday of Easter we hear from the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel and his account of the the Good Shepherd, on what we call, Good Shepherd Sunday. Yet, for what we know of this image, which is probably the most prevalent in all of Scripture, it often seems to stand at odds with Jesus and even the words, good and shepherd seem to be more in conflict than anything. However, Jesus manages to pull together these seemingly opposing opposites and identifies himself as the Good Shepherd.

In the gospels, when Jesus is confronted by the rich young man he even questions him in calling him good. His reply is, “God alone is good.” And the shepherds, well, we know how unfaithful they have often been from David right on down to the shepherds who become the chosen ones of the incarnation that we hear at Christmas, because they are seen as suspicious, dangerous, involved in risky business, at times thieves, and even to this day, some who live in isolation from the rest of the community because of how they have been labeled and looked down upon and so often living down to that level.

Yet, Jesus says I am the good shepherd. Jesus manages to reconcile the good and the shepherd of our own humanity, and through the Crucified Christ now raised from the dead, is salvation, the kingdom, brought to fruition in the life of the community. It’s the debate that Peter finds himself in today. Now this is nothing new for Peter. He’s been in this situation before when him and the other disciples question Jesus in the gospels about those who are being healed by others than the “chosen” ones. Now he’s in a different position. Now he knows in his very being, Christ crucified, now raised from the dead, as more than just an event but a reality in his life and that of the community. He pretty much tells them the details of the healing of the crippled man really don’t matter. How it happened or what took place. What matters is that he was healed and can now be with the community in the fullness. It was and is through the power of the Crucified One now raised that we believe he has been healed. As a matter of fact, it is only through Christ that we seek and find healing, forgiveness, reconciliation. The Christ goes to the place where we have been isolated. Christ goes to the place where there has been hurting. Christ comes into the world and appears to the least, the shepherds in the fields, to offer a message of hope in the midst of the their lives.

But Peter had another issue to deal with and one we deal with in our own society and culture. He emphasizes that salvation and the breaking in of the kingdom comes in and through Christ. Yet, so often they were led to believe that it came through the Emperor or the political leaders of their day. We know from Herod that it was more out of fear that leaders often rally the troops. If we wait for leaders to bring healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation, we will be waiting for quite some time.

Now we find ourselves as a city facing some deeply-seeded hurting going on these days and for the past weeks and it is us, the believers, as it was in the early community with Peter, who are called to be love to the community and this city. If we reduce everything to politics, we find ourselves in ongoing situations like this one, with hurt leading to more hurt, divisiveness leading to more divisiveness, and trying to prove one’s right and one’s wrong. As it was for Peter, we’re missing the point. We’re missing the point that it is healing that needs to take place. We’re missing the point that it is reconciliation that needs to take place. We’re missing the point that it is forgiveness that needs to take place. It is Christ crucified, now raised from the dead, that comes and brings reconciliation. Christ reconciles the good and the shepherd. It’s Christ that reconciles the shepherd and the sheep. It’s Christ that reconciles the good, the bad, and ugly of our own lives. For it is only in Christ in our own lives, that when healed, we no longer have to respond to violence with more violence, but rather with love. We are God’s children and so we are as John tells us in the Second Reading.

There’s a lot of good in our lives and city, but there’s also, at times, a lot of bad and ugly that takes place. We find ourselves as reactionaries more than responders of love. Christ, the Good Shepherd, comes to the place where we have been and have isolated in our own lives, to love and comfort, to seek out what has been lost and can now be found, just as he did with the shepherds. As we celebrate this Good Shepherd Sunday we gather mindful of the heavy burden of hurt and pain in our lives, our community, our city, and certainly our world. We’re not called to fix and solve. On this Good Shepherd Sunday we are called to reconcile as the Great Reconciler did and continues to do in our lives and world. It doesn’t matter how it happens for this mystery of healing and reconciling is within and yet beyond each of us. We are called to manifest God’s love to our community, city, and world, by being the wounded healers, reconcilers, and forgivers, for it is that that we witness to by our very lives in trusting the Good Shepherd, leading the ewes with care, devotion, and great love.