Imagine That!

S

At the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, he announced to his hometown synagogue that these words had been fulfilled in their hearing:

God’s Spirit is on me;

    he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor,

Sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and

    recovery of sight to the blind,

To set the burdened and battered free,

    to announce, “This is God’s year to act!”

For the last forty days, I have been reflecting how I have been called to act, as well.  How am I to preach the message--using words only when necessary--to the poor?  It's a question that has challenged me to stretch my imagination.  What more can I give?  What am I willing to sacrifice so that I can give?  Jesus gave up his life.  Am I willing to do the same?

I leave you with this poem as a reflection on what it might be like if all of us asked ourselves these questions.  Would this be God's year to act?   

Imagine the Angels of Bread

This is the year that squatters evict landlords,

gazing like admirals from the rail

of the roof deck

or levitating hands in praise

of steam in the shower;

this is the year

that shawled refugees deport judges

who stare at the floor

and their swollen feet

as files are stamped

with their destination;

this is the year that police revolvers,

stove-hot, blister the fingers

of raging cops,

and nightsticks splinter

in their palms;

this is the year

that darkskinned men

lynched a century ago

return to sip coffee quietly

with the apologizing descendants

of their executioners.

This is the year that those

who swim the border's undertow

and shiver in boxcars

are greeted with trumpets and drums

at the first railroad crossing

on the other side;

this is the year that the hands

pulling tomatoes from the vine

uproot the deed to the earth that sprouts the vine,

the hands canning tomatoes

are named in the will

that owns the bedlam of the cannery;

this is the year that the eyes

stinging from the poison that purifies toilets

awaken at last to the sight

of a rooster-loud hillside,

pilgrimage of immigrant birth;

this is the year that cockroaches

become extinct, that no doctor

finds a roach embedded

in the ear of an infant;

this is the year that the food stamps

of adolescent mothers

are auctioned like gold doubloons,

and no coin is given to buy machetes

for the next bouquet of severed heads

in coffee plantation country.

If the abolition of slave-manacles

began as a vision of hands without manacles,

then this is the year;

if the shutdown of extermination camps

began as imagination of a land

without barbed wire or the crematorium,

then this is the year;

if every rebellion begins with the idea

that conquerors on horseback

are not many-legged gods, that they too drown

if plunged in the river,

then this is the year.

So may every humiliated mouth,

teeth like desecrated headstones,

fill with the angels of bread. 

Martin Espada

Where have I experienced the darkness of injustice in my life?

If one member suffers, all suffer together...  I Cor. 12:26

How does injustice keep people in the shadows?

Soon another Feast came around and Jesus was back in Jerusalem. Near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem there was a pool, in Hebrew called Bethesda, with five alcoves. Hundreds of sick people—blind, crippled, paralyzed—were in these alcoves. One man had been an invalid there for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him stretched out by the pool and knew how long he had been there, he said, “Do you want to get well?”

The sick man said, “Sir, when the water is stirred, I don’t have anybody to put me in the pool. By the time I get there, somebody else is already in.”

How am I called to live in solidarity with my global brothers and sisters?

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?  MIcah 6:8

The Spirit of the Lord is upon you.  How will you respond?

The Spirit of the Lord is Upon Me

Those eyes, are they windows into his soul?

"These eyes have seen too much
Too much suffering and too much pain.
Everywhere there is devastation.

Looking out from behind the wall
Brick and mortar that was once a school
Longing to see the faces of family.

How could this have happened?
No warning of the impending disaster
Everything that was familiar is now destroyed

Even though separated by miles
Am I able to glimpse into his heart
And say, 'I understand ... I am with you.'"

What have those eyes seen? Surely few of us living in the United States today have seen such sights, such horror. Can we even imagine what it must be like?

When I was very young, we lived with the threat of an atomic bomb attack. Was that ever real? I have no idea. But we were told as young children that a bomb could be dropped on us. There were shelters everywhere, in school basements and public buildings. We were instructed about what we were to do to remain safe. Some families had underground bunkers stocked with food, water and other necessities.

But that attack never came. Not to us.

How is it that human eyes are so expressive? What can change in them? There is a spark, a gleam, that can be dimmed. It's hard to put into words, but fear, a haunted soul, anger, love -- they all shine through the eyes, giving us an immediate sense of connection or lack thereof.

What disasters have been unwelcome guests in my life?

The disasters in my life are what might be called "First World Problems." Ran out of money before the end of the month. Internet isn't working. Nothing good on TV tonight.

Or maybe a little worse: I recently feared I might lose my job, not because of anything I'd done wrong, but because things are changing. I survived that, but it was stressful.

Stressful? Ha! Compared to what this young boy has seen, hardly a disaster. I've faced minor illnesses, minor financial upsets (never been foreclosed on, like many Americans have endured). I still have a job, in fact, it's a better job now. We've had heating problems in the coldest part of winter this year. So we got chilly. We didn't have any frozen pipes, like many of our neighbors.

Honestly, looks like I have a lot to be grateful for. I should not complain, not at all. But I will, because I am human.

How do I stand with others amid the devastating storms?

Storms, like war, natural disasters, military coups?

I have to admit that aside from writing the occasional check to relief services or writing the occasional editorial about said relief services, not much. But storms closer to home? Yeah, I've done a few things. I have donated material goods to homeless relief efforts, and I went out with a group of friends who were trying to help the homeless in our own community to distribute donated clothing and food.

There are some who stand on street corners holding signs asking for help, but they are known not to be suffering all that much. One was followed home by someone to a middle class suburban home. Was he scamming those who were trying to help? Maybe. Or perhaps he really is down on his luck and just hasn't been put out onto the streets yet. But he's been photographed in a nightclub, drink in hand and pretty girl by his side.

Who knows? Is it better to take someone at his word?

Our city erected signs asking people not to give money to pandhandlers, because they are found all over the place near stores. Not sure it's the best way to deal with it, but whatever.

And there are so many agencies and charities and other groups who work hard to make sure help goes to those who truly need it.

How am I invited to stand in solidarity with others who suffer?

"Christ is hidden under the suffering appearance of anyone who is hungry, naked, homeless or dying." -- Mother Teresa of Calcutta

So that sounds like an invitation to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless and comfort the dying.

I guess there are many ways to accomplish that. I still admire what my friends are doiing, on their own, using social media to solicit support and donations. No cash involved, no questions asked. Just handing out clothing, blankets, hot food from a crockpot and when available, toiletries and other necessities. No questions, no background checks, honor system.

If it gets abused, the onus is on the abuser, the exploiter.

I do have a problem with panhandlers though. I don't know if it's something I need to overcome or just common sense.

I do more. I coordinate and contribute to a project started by a now-deceased friend. It's called HUGS, and it involves getting handmade scarves -- crocheted, knitted and sewn from fleece -- for children whose parent visit the Joseph House Crisis Center seeking assistance. The children are allowed to pick out a scarf and a book (donated by a different group). It's more than just giving children a colorful neckwarmer. It's supposed to also be a way to let them know there's a community out there who cares about them, who wants them to grow up strong (it's an acronym: Help Us Grow Strong.

We can be one on the journey, each contributing what we can, using our gifts and talents to help others, or at least to make their journey a little easier in some way. Small sacrifices.

There is a couple at my church who never pass by an opportunity to stop and help, never. They were late to lunch after the Rite of Election because they stopped to help a woman who looked lost, standing on a patch of ice on the sidewalk. The wife is going to be baptized at the Easter Vigil. They married after she entered the RCIA process, and for their honeymoon, they did missionary work. He is one of the kindest, most generous souls I've ever met and she is trying to learn from him. It's beautiful.

What about you, dear reader? I know I'm not resting on my laurels. I will continue to do what I can, which might be more than some, but less than others. But still one on the journey in faith through this life. Solidarity.