The Old Rugged Cross

When I was a boy my favorite hymn was "The Old Rugged Cross." I don't know why, really. It was written by a Methodist evangelist back in 1912 and it was a standard part of our Sunday hymn-singing repertoire. Singing was a big part of my faith growing up. My mother was in the choir, and the heritage of her side of the family was one of simple folk - mountain folk - who sang often. Sang all the time, really. There wasn't an aspect of living that they didn't sing about. History was sung and romance was sung and work, humor and suffering was sung. But most of all, they sung about their faith. Gospel singing, raising our voices up to the Lord, was probably the type of singing we did most.

We probably sang "The Old Rugged Cross" multiple times during Lent, and I'm sure other times of the year as well. The lyrics were simple… "On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame. And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain." There was something about the simplicity of it, the slow almost dirge-like character that really appealed to me. And it brought a tear to my eye just about every time I sang it.

From a young age it was also important to me to wear not just a cross, but a crucifix. There are times when I think I was preparing to become a Catholic my entire life. We never had crucifixes in our church or home or anywhere - that was a Catholic thing. In the Protestant church simple, plain representations were the norm. But I gave a lot of thought to it, and it was important to me not to just see the cross as symbol of our faith, but to be reminded of the sacrificial nature of it. Of Christ, and of His suffering and the gift he gave of life for us.

The importance of the cross in our lives as Christians, as a symbol of what it means to be a Christian would be truly difficult to measure. The cross was not embraced immediately as a symbol of Christ's redemptive suffering. And for good reason. It was a symbol of fear and pain for those punished justly or unjustly. It was a threat, the ultimate form of embarrassment and shame. And I'm sure for many of the first Christians, it brought memories not of Christ's triumph but of the sadness of His death.

St. Paul began to change the way we thought about the cross. He wrote of it often in his letters. He spoke that the cross would be made void if he dishonored Christ's teachings. In times of his own suffering and persecution he wrote of how he was nailed to the cross with Christ. He wrote about how those that persecuted Christians were not just enemies of Christ, but enemies of the cross. And he wrote that the only glory one should seek as a Christian was in the cross of Christ. There are many other examples. But Paul changed to way people thought about the cross. It changed from what the song called "an emblem of suffering and shame" to something completely different. It became an emblem of triumph. An emblem of the protective force of God. An emblem not just of sacrifice, but of God's absolute love for each of us.

Some years ago I brought the youth group I work with into the church one evening to talk about the cross. And one of the things we did was count the number of depictions of the cross in the building. I don't remember how many we found, but I know there were dozens. In this one, small building, dozens of depictions of the cross. In the Stations of the Cross. Above the Stations. On the chair backs. Topping the gates in the back.  On the tabernacle. On the old marble altar rail. A rosary cross on the statue of St. Anthony.  Another on the relief of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. Again and again. If that doesn't speak clearly to the importance of the cross as symbol for us I don't know what does.

I have also been fascinated by the way the cross became a symbol of comfort. A symbol of safety. I think of all the people I've visited who were sick or suffering or dying and how many of them had a cross close by, or clung to rosary beads to the end, because of the great comfort they bring. I've become aware at times when I'm in prayer about some difficulty in life I have unconsciously reached up and taken my own crucifix between my fingers and gently stroke it. It is a calming influence, a comfort. I've worn out quite a few crucifixes that way. When I had a health scare a few months ago my crucifix was lost somewhere in transit between clinic to ambulance to hospital. Ultimately, that was the most distressing aspect of my experience.

I do believe in the power of the cross. History and my own experience has shown me that as symbol and as object the cross can change the world. It has been carried before us in physical battle and spiritual battle. It is symbolic of our efforts to ward off evil and bring hope. My prayer is that it always symbolize the outstretched arms of Christ - not in fear or surrender, but in welcoming. Outstretched not just in sacrifice, but in love.

Cling to the cross. Once, a symbol of fear and suffering and shame. For us today, it is a symbol of sacrifice and love. It symbolizes everything we are to be about as Christians. A people of that sacrifice, willing to take on burdens and give freely of ourselves in the service of others. And it's a symbol of love. The great love God has for us as His children, and the love of God we are all to share with one another. We are people of sacrifice. We are people of love. We should always carry the cross before us - either figuratively or literally - and exalt the great meaning it has for us as children of God.

Oh, Baltimore - Bruised, not Broken

When I was in college Randy Newman - one of my favorite singer/songwriters - released an album that brought him great commercial success.  More for it’s controversial subject matter than artistic excellence (it’s not remotely among my personal favorites of Newman’s work) the album “Little Criminals” lit up the single and album charts on the strength of its hit “Short People.”  Newman’s wicked social commentary on intolerance was misunderstood by many and the song written off as prejudice.  In his best work (notwithstanding his amazing body of soundtrack work that has netted him 20 Academy Award nominations) Newman grabs us by the scruff of the neck, shakes us to our senses and demands we look at the world and it’s many ills and our own reactions, and inaction.

While most of the nation raged over “Short People” a different wave of unrest arose in my beloved Baltimore.  Another song on the album, titled “Baltimore” related a depressing view of the city, with its beat-up seagulls, hookers, drunks and other allusions to a dying city that certainly no other city in America had experienced prior. It’s closing lyrics told the whole story...

          Live out in the country
  Where the mountain's high
  Never comin' back here
  ‘Til the day I die

Baltimore flipped out.  Politicians vilified Newman and the seemingly narrow-minded slant of the song.  People wrote letters.  Long-time city comptroller Hyman Pressman - as great a cheerleader for Baltimore City as there ever was - wrote a poem in response.  According to the book “Randy Newman's American Dreams” by Kevin Courrier, Newman himself admitted his entire experience of Baltimore to that point had been a single train ride through town.  Newman came to Baltimore to perform in concert and the city bent over backwards to show Newman the error of his ways.  The “controversy” displayed Baltimore at both its best and its worst.

A long time has passed since that wailing and gnashing of teeth in 1977.  We were slapped in the face by our football team sneaking away in the night, crime and poverty grew, and affluent exodus to the suburbs created an urban apartheid that the city still struggles with today.  In recent years the impression many outside the city have of Baltimore are the television programs “Homicide: Life on the the Street” and “The Wire.”  Without a doubt some of the best television created in the last few decades, but not the kind of work that makes people stand up and shout “Damn! I want to move to that town!”

This brings us to last week.  A blogger on medium.com posted an article which quickly gathered steam through Internet sharing.  Titled “Baltimore City, You’re Breaking My Heart,” it presented an angry, nihilist picture of the city as a “complete shit-hole war zone depending on what street you turn down.”   While the author made some valid points about crime in the city it seemed to me the majority of the “good” they saw was focused on particular bars and parks.  In a word, limited.  The photograph that heads the article of a dilapidated, run-down, boarded-up neighborhood in a deep blue hue completes the picture.

Well, that “neighborhood” doesn’t exist any more.  It’s an area of North Duncan Street that was uninhabited at the time of the photograph in preparation for a major renovation in that East Baltimore community.  And yes, I’m well aware of the challenges created by development that often pushes people out of their homes, raises property taxes to the point where those with limited means can’t maintain their residences, and gentrification of neighborhoods permanently changes the character of a town that many refer to as “Smalltimore” because of the wonderful vibe of tight-knit communities drawn together by ethnicity, religion, national origin or just plain love.

These are not challenges unique to Baltimore.  These are not challenges which are jump-starting a massive new exodus out of the city.  Yes, there is much work to be done.  Yes, crime and education and racism and poverty are huge problems we must continue to engage with and work towards meaningful solutions.

I will always be the “glass half-full” guy.  I prefer to look for signs of hope rather than harbingers of disaster.  I prefer to believe in the better angels of our nature rather than demons that drag us into darkness.  And I will always believe when we look at the world and act out of love rather than fear or anger good will triumph.  Maybe, as John Lennon wrote “I’m a dreamer” but I know through my encounters with people at all walks of life in the City of Baltimore I’m not the only one.

Damn, I love this town.  I can’t imagine living anywhere else...

BASE Camp 2010 Day Six - Family

"There is a terrible hunger for love. We all experience that in our lives--the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognize it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them." ~ Mother Teresa

Our fifth and final on-site work day began as all did this week... hot, muggy and a little bit slow. But the group soon got revving and the work quickly completed. Our friend Steve started our day with a rousing prayer and the Stockton Street park - which we have worked on every year of BASE Camp - was soon buzzing with activity.

Our last-second addition to our participants, Hser-Wah (pronounced CHAIR-wuh) soon led the charge on the dredging of the pond. Throughout the week Hser-Wah gained the reputation as our "BASE Camp ninja"... busily flying in every and any direction, vaulting vans and chasing down squirrels. Despite a limited grasp of the English language he was immediately embraced by the other participants as a member of the family, and a promise to return and join us next year was extracted. We were also joined on the last day by Grady Hipley, who after years of regaling us at BASE Camp with stories of Samurai and sword techniques finally got his chance to show his stuff by wielding a machete to hack through some serious growth that had blocked a pathway around the park.

Katie Parry - who stepped in to help with prayer and meal planning as well as on-site organization - took groups to the Arab stable for a visit. Other groups made the pilgrimage to the Hollins Market, sampling large quantities of Chuckie's Chicken as well as smoothies, snowballs and fried clams. Visits were made to our friend Robert's shop of museum-quality African art and ethnic trinkets, always an interesting experience. Throughout the week - wherever our participants traveled to - they joyfully greeted the residents of Southwest and engaged them in conversation. They took to heart Sr. Kitty's desire that the BASE Camp experience not just be about the work, that it is also about RELATIONSHIPS.

Our annual cookout at Stockton Street featured the usual jungle juice and blackened hot dogs, as well as visits from some of the more "colorful" local characters. But this, too is also part of the BASE Camp experience. It's what the memories are made of, and what keep us coming back.

Throwing 30-odd teens and young adults together for a week is not without it's challenges. After all, we are human. But we are also family. And even though there were the usual dramas, minidramas, microdramas and melodramas, this year was one of the smoothest BASE Camp experiences we have yet had. Like a family, our love and respect for one another always trumped any perceived failings. And those family bonds make us stronger.

After our return to St. Will's Fr. Marty celebrated Mass for us - his last liturgy specifically for youth at St. Will's before he moves on to his new parish. It was bittersweet, and following Mass we treated Fr. Marty to a SWYM tradition - a laying on of hands and praying over a family member that is moving on to new adventures and new challenges. Many tears flowed as the youth spoke of all Fr. Marty and his support has meant to us at St. Will's and to our youth ministry program.

Our day ended with a cookout and ultimate frisbee and music and games and fun and prayer and conversations that carried through the night into the early morning hours. All things that reminded us of the importance of what we are to one another - family... family in unity, family in Christ, family in love.

BASE Camp 2010 Day Four - Witness

"Love has a hem to her garment that reaches the very dust. It sweeps the stains from the streets and lanes, and because it can, it must." ~ Mother Teresa

Our third day of site work was brutally hot. Again and again people say to me "You certainly seem to pick the hottest week" for BASE Camp. Trust me, I had nothing to do with the picking. And it does seem that over the last few years our mid-June forays into Southwest Baltimore have been ridiculously hot. But as much as our participants acknowledge the heat I haven't really heard complaints about the heat. It is almost a source of pride that despite the less-than-ideal weather conditions our group presses on, and not only completes our assigned tasks but move beyond them.

Most of our group started the day attacking the Pratt Street lot which was a major undertaking in 2009. And although it wasn't easy work by any means this year, we were clearly able to accomplish more in a shorter amount of time thanks not only to last year's work during BASE Camp, but also due to the efforts of a group of our young people that returned to the site (on their own initiative) later in 2009 to work on the lot a second time. Our crew dug in and dove in, clearing the lot of trash and debris and mowing the grass.

But that wasn't all we did. One group worked with a volunteer from Southwest Visions and moved up and down local streets clearing weeds and removing trash. Other groups continued our work this week with the "Clean and Green" program that operates out of the Bon Secours of Maryland Foundation facility. "Clean and Green" is dedicated to improving the quality of life in Southwest Baltimore by turning acres of vacant lots in the area into attractive green spaces. We've worked with this organization for a number of years through Southwest Visions, most significantly with the creation and maintenance of a community vegetable garden on the corner of Fulton Avenue and Lexington Street.

We took a group of young people to Traci Atkins Park on Stricker Street to clear trash. The park was created in memory of a young girl who died after being struck by a car. She had been playing in the street because in her neighborhood there was nowhere safer to play. This was our second trip to the park and within a very short while we had it cleaned up and looking presentable and attractive.

Another group assisted at one of our favorite sites, St. Peter's Adult Learning Center which serves developmentally disabled adults in Baltimore City. Our group there helps with anything that can possibly be done... moving furniture, washing vehicles, weeding a lovely prayer garden we've been instrumental in maintaining throughout our years of BASE Camp. And of course, interacting with the center's clients, always some of the most joyful people we encounter in Southwest.

We also squeezed in a walking tour for our BASE Camp "newbies" to the Arab stable on Carlton Street. A true and unfortunately diminishing piece of Baltimore history, our young people have always enjoyed hearing about the long history (this particular stable - one of only two remaining in Baltimore - has been in operation for 110 years) and of course having the opportunity to visit with and feed the stable's "residents." Our young friend Donte always seems happy to see our group come and visit each year, and you can see the great pride he has in the work they do there.

Our evening was filled with much laughter and joy and more than a few tears. A constant stream of BASE Camp alumni kept things lively at our home base, and our young adults had the opportunity to sit down with Fr. Marty and speak with him about all he has meant to our parish community and youth ministry program at St. William of York. Fr. Marty will be moving on next week to a new parish assignment, but his legacy of support for youth at St. Will's will carry on, and carry on due to the efforts and involvement of the many youth and young adults whose hearts he has touched during his 14 years at the parish.

Our packed day finally ended with stories and thoughts and prayers of witness... of Kevin, who worked with the Clean and Green crew and all he shared about his life struggles with drug abuse and how his faith has saved and sustained him. Of Donte at the Arab stable, the latest of generations of people who have worked served the residents of Southwest Baltimore. Of Chip Woods at St. Peter's and his constant energy and joy in what he does to make the community a better place to live and work for all it's residents. And of course, of Fr. Marty and all he has meant for our family.

The list goes on and on. And as we manifest that "garment of love" in what we do for Southwest Baltimore our young people can be secure in the knowledge that they also are joining that great cloud of witnesses to the faith. Witnesses to what it means to be a person of Christ in our world today. Witnesses that live the "E" of Evangelization (in BASE Camp) in everything we do.

BASE Camp 2010 Day Three - Small Things

"It is not what we do that is important, but how much love we put into what we do: we should do small things with great love."
~ Mother Teresa

Small things with great love. Again and again today we were told that these seemingly small things we do when we venture into Southwest Baltimore demonstrate great love. And, as Brother Joe told me today, "your young people have truly transformed our community."

It was a busy day today with multiple crews going in varying directions. We did everything from street cleanup to setting up for a retirement party to moving furniture. Along the way we talked with a great many people, many who shared with us the joy they felt we had brought to their community. One young man - who goes by the name "Pig" - kept circling around us on his bicycle. Every time he came close and we tried to strike up a conversation with him he'd turn and ride away. But within a few short moments he would return, each time venturing closer. Finally he dismounted the bike and - still not really conversing - picked up a rake and began helping with the work. He helped us finish the work on that street and then rode off again. But little moments like that, where we have the opportunity to make even the smallest connection with someone are true gifts.

During lunch our group was visited by Laurie, who shared with us her struggles with alcohol and drug addiction and how organizations like Hezekiah Movement helps keep her clean and productive. She talked with joy about her three children, the middle one planning on entering college this fall. Her journey into addiction began at the age of 13 as a result of peer pressure and it's been a 27 year battle for her, But there was much joy and hope in how she views her life today and her continuing recovery. Our young people strongly affirmed her path and promised to pray for her.

One of our crews worked on a prayer garden behind the newly opened "Island of Hope" building. If you're familiar with the television program "The Wire" which infamously chronicles the drug wars in Baltimore or "Homicide: Life on the Street" you may also know that the Baltimore writer whose works these are based on - David Simon - also co-wrote the book "The Corner" about Baltimore's most notorious drug trafficking location. Island of Hope is located on this corner. It is indeed an island of hope for the community - a place where people of the community can join together to pray, to meditate and to find healing. The prayer garden itself was one of the first lot cleanups we did back in 2005 (before BASE Camp was BASE Camp). It's incredible to see what the small seed planted five years ago has grown into. That crew was supervised by Jerry Buettner - a fellow youth minister, good friend, and social justice shining light. Jerry calls Baltimore "Smalltimore" because of it's neighborhood character. And it seems everyone knows Jerry - again and again I encounter people that have somehow had their lives touched by Jerry. Our young people had a great day working with him.

We made new friends on the basketball courts of the Hollins Market community and unfortunately had to say good-bye to one old one... Sr. Kitty. Sr. Kitty had to travel to a national conference of Mercy Sisters in Charlotte, North Carolina and won't be able to be with us for the remainder of the week. This pained her greatly because she loves spending time with our young people. But she also left town confident in the knowledge that our young people would perform the work spectacularly, infusing each small act with great love. We won't let her down.

With Arms Wide Open

I've been feeling a little abnormally joyous the last few days. Abnormal, because the Christmas holiday is fast approaching and usually my anxiety level is through the roof and I'm never quite as far along with things as I would like to be. And this year seems especially packed with meetings and activities and events and places to go and people to see. But this year feels different. I am actually somewhat on track to be ready for the holiday. But it's not just that.

For one thing, youth group is going spectacularly well this year. I approached this year with a certain amount of trepidation. I had a very involved and dedicated group of young people graduate out of the program this past spring and I really wasn't sure what to expect of the year ahead. This was a group of young people - the core of which - that had been involved in the youth ministry program for seven years. And most of them I had been ministering to since they were tots in our Children's Liturgy of the Word program. They were not only wonderful to work with and journey with they were great peer leaders, and they served the youth group well, opening their arms in friendship and genuine care to our "newbies." The legacy they have left is quite evident in the dedication and exuberance of their younger counterparts. And I have found my own dedication to my ministry re-invigorated as a result.

There is also a person I've been acquainted with for some time, but not really KNOWN. And there were a lot of factors that contributed to a sort of barrier that existed between us. Most mine. I think distrust was a piece of it. I'm not really sure what motivated it, but it was there. Misunderstanding. Fed by the mistrust. I always assumed the worst, became defensive, guarded. And something else, kind of intangible, that was just floating out there. Maybe fear.

We took a chance. A sharing that began with an email and continued with a meal together. Barriers came down. Mistrust disappeared. Understanding came. Fear dissolved.

We metaphorically opened our arms to one another. For so long my mental (if not physical) approach to this person was to be somewhat detached, arms folded, mind closed. But we took a chance. Stepped out of comfort zones that really weren't very comfortable at all. Opened our arms. Opened our hearts. And I think we have cultivated a friendship that has been beneficial to both of us.

Wasted time is so regrettable. But even wasted time can become a part of the process, this "work in progress" that relationships - relationships that grow - become. And maybe, just maybe the bitterness of time lost is part of what can make the here and now so much sweeter when we allow ourselves to be open to possibility.

I read a meditation once by Fr. Larry Gillick of the Nouwen Society (http://www.henrinouwen.org/) and he had this to say about achieving universal solidarity...

"Allowing ourselves to be loved personally lets our tightly clenched arms and hands loosen and spread, as do the branches of the Christmas tree when it is brought inside. They are readied to receive decorations and then offer their beauty to others. Solidarity with all the others of the world begins with my 'yes' and 'ours.' God is saying that God loves us with an embrace which is as big as the world. When thawed out and thought out, my 'yes' is directed to God, to my gifts, and to those 'others' whom God calls 'ours.' The journey moves from the outside in and slowly from the inside to the world-side."

Open your arms. Welcome love in.

Simply to Thy Cross I Cling

Yesterday we almost didn't have a priest for Sunday morning Mass. Our pastor Fr. Marty is out of town and since he likes to plan ahead he made arrangements for priests to be here to celebrate Mass this past weekend probably 3-4 months ago. But we haven't had issues in the past, and the priests that were scheduled to celebrate for us had both been to St. William of York before. The priest scheduled for yesterday morning also has a tendency to arrive at the last possible moment so there's always a little bit of sense of adventure and anxiety for me as the "one in charge" as I wait for him to arrive for the 9:00am Mass.

But yesterday was a bit different. As it got closer and closer to 9:00 I had a bad feeling. And when it became 9:01 and then 9:02 and still no priest that feeling became much worse. Because I was faced with the prospect of having to stand before a congregation of people that had gathered for Sunday liturgy and explain to them that we would not have a priest to celebrate Mass. And while I had been here for Mass as a participant the last time that happened here at St. William it didn't relieve my stress any that I may now have to be the one to make that decision.

Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the priest and he finally arrived. And he was embarrassed and contrite for having forgotten to be here. But he did get here and all went well. And I was much too relieved to be upset with him.

Doing a Mass or communion service takes a great deal of preparation. Of course there's all the "little" things like making sure the candles are lit, the Lectionary is on the right page, the key is in the tabernacle - all things that I have forgotten to do at one time or another. The reflection or homily takes a lot of thought and consideration. In preparing for this morning's Communion service reflection I learned about Ember Days - does anyone remember those? Ember Days could be days of thankfulness for the harvest or fasting and prayer observed at specific times of the church year. In the pre-Vatican II church Ember Days were observed the Wednesday, Friday and Saturday of the week. This week following the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross we would have been observing additional days of prayer and fasting. I love learning about the saints and the traditions of our church as I prepare to give a reflection. It helps me grow in my faith and helps me feel prepared and confident when I stand before a group of people.

If it had come down to doing a Communion service yesterday morning I know it would have worked out. I've done Communion services before and I know what to expect and what the guidelines are and most importantly I think know the compassion and understanding of the St. William of York community. I have stood before them and been strengthened by the support and love they have shown me.

But I think what has prepared me the most, given me the support I need and continually demonstrates God's love for me is the cross of Christ's sacrifice. My entire life I have been surrounded by this great symbol of God's love. The church I grew up in we often sang hymns on Sunday morning such as "The Old Rugged Cross" and "In the Cross of Christ I Glory" and "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross." Hymns that featured lines such as "In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine, a wondrous beauty I see, for 'twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died, to pardon and sanctify me." That's what I grew up with. That's what I learned. That's where my strength comes from.

As Catholics we recall that symbol when we cross ourselves in prayer. I often wondered why people in the Latino community would often kiss their fingers after crossing themselves until a friend of mine explained they make a little cross with their thumb and forefinger and it's that cross they kiss. I once read that some believe the tradition of crossing one's fingers for luck actually originated as a way of symbolizing the Christian cross as a talisman against evil. We wear crosses, we surround ourselves with crosses. I love seeing the various depictions of crosses in cemeteries. It is the great symbol of our faith.

Today we celebrate the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. The cross of Christ's sacrifice. A symbol we can always turn to for strength and support. But most importantly, a symbol of God's great love for us as we know from the Gospel of John: For God so loved the world he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes might not perish but have eternal life and that the world might be saved through him.

Golden Rule Days

School days, school days, dear old Golden Rule days. When I was young we were quoted the "Golden Rule" all the time. In school it was probably the first thing I learned. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It was repeated often, drilled into us, and despite the best efforts of many fine teachers the rule was often forgotten. Or perhaps not forgotten so much as ignored. And to be honest, my recollection was that others ignored it far more often than I did myself, because it seemed like I was often the butt of jokes and pranks and bullying. But I'm sure I inflicted my fair share of pain and suffering on my younger brothers as we grew up, so I suppose it evened out.

But evening out isn't the goal. Evening out almost has a connotation of reward, or retribution realized. I can't tell you how many times something has happened where I've seen myself or others get taken advantage of or worse and thought to myself "Oh, you'll get yours someday. What goes around comes around. Karma is going to catch up with you." And those weren't just statements - they were my hope. Almost prayers. I found myself being wronged and instead of praying for strength in adversity I essentially prayed that others would suffer the same fate (or worse) than I had. I hadn't learned anything from the experience. I had forgotten the "Golden Rule."

In the Gospel of Luke Christ addresses this wonderfully. He doesn't just say "Do to others as you would have them do to you" because this can be misinterpreted. He expands on it. Love your enemies. Turn the other cheek. Give to everyone who asks of you. Expect nothing back. Be merciful. Stop judging. Stop condemning. Forgive. This passage from Luke is the essence of Christ's teaching in one convenient package. If we expect God to show us mercy, we have to be merciful towards others. We have to recognize the Christ that is within each person we encounter. When we show another mercy, we are showing Christ mercy. And that mercy will in turn be given us by God.

Loving one's enemies is a difficult thing. I was bullied a lot as a young boy. And it was very painful for me to see my son go through many of the same agonies. The constant fear and anxiety of each day, never knowing from where the next attack was going to come from. And it made my son very angry. And a lot of joy left his life. But he persevered. He didn't lose his faith, he never gave up, and he has consistently remained one of the most compassionate people I've ever known. Injustice angers him - whether it's racism, or sexism, or abuse or neglect. But he no longer allows himself to be consumed by the anger, and he is always willing to try and understand why things are as they are. And he always treats every person he meets with respect.

I think we all struggle with being judgmental. It's just so easy and natural and human to have knee-jerk reactions to the things that happen to us or that we encounter on a daily basis. I always get very upset when I see an adult screaming or hitting a child in public. And my immediate reaction is I want to go to them and scream in their face and see how they like it. But then I remember I had my own share of physical "corrections" growing up. And as I matured I came to understand why my parents used that form of "education" with me now and then. I understood that it wasn't their fault or that they were trying to be intentionally abusive or anything like that. They had been brought up a certain way and likely had been abused themselves, and it was all they knew. And it was difficult for them to break that pattern. But they eventually did, because that pattern was not continued through me. And I think I've learned that the best way to stop being judgmental is to work towards understanding. Understanding others, making an effort to understand their situations, and working towards solutions rather than merely reacting in kind.

Be merciful. Forgive. When I read this passage the theme that keeps coming back to me is humility. So much of what Christ teaches us is about humility. We all work hard to get ahead in life. To live comfortably. To achieve a level of peace. But that comfort, that peace cannot and should not come at the expense of others. We have been wonderfully blessed with God's grace. And like any gift freely given that gift needs to be freely shared. We must stand up for those that can't stand up for themselves. We must pray often and fervently. We must forgive so that we in turn will be forgiven. We must be willing to humble ourselves before God, and live that humility. It must become natural to our nature, just as breathing is natural to us.

Love. The greatest lesson of all. Love God, love all, and we shall in turn be loved. Do to others as you would have them to you.