Homespun Homily by Lori: Tempted by a good book and a sleepy conscience to HIDE!
I’m in my 8th decade of life now (my, that sounds old 😊), and my perspective has certainly evolved over these many years. Looking back on my life, I think that for most of it I’ve been very engrossed in the daily tasks at hand. And with six children, and now seven grandchildren, and a husband whose my “office boss,” those tasks are many and seem never-ending.
I have always kept up with the news of “world events,” though these happenings seemed very far away and didn’t seem to have a noticeable impact on my day-to-day life. Many of these events I included on my intercessory prayer list, especially challenges and tragedies involving moms and children. I felt, quite optimistically, that eventually God would sort these problems out and that justice and good would prevail.
And now? My optimism has been sorely battered by events of the past 10 years. Surely, humankind has been through many eras of troubled times, times far worse than the events of this last decade. But this is my lifetime; these are my world’s challenges; and lately, I’ve felt moments of despair at the state of the world and the seeming lack of goodness and compassion among us human beings.
You know well the list of troubled people and places. It’s a constant thrum throughout our media-saturated day. Yes, we know there are big problems; we know there are many people behaving badly; we know there are other people in such dire need of a helping hand. But what can we do?
Here’s one small example from my life. Sunday’s paper, front page – a photo of a mother in Gaza sitting with her two children. The two-year-old has his back to the viewer, and I can count every tiny bone of his spine and ribs, his shoulder bones, and even the tendons in his neck and upper arms. He is literally “skin and bones.” The mother’s face is contorted in anguish.
What can I do? Immediately, I emailed our two U.S. Senators and my U.S. Representative. It was a plaintive email, urging them to do something. A few days later, I see that Jordan and some other countries are air-dropping pallets of food into Gaza. Good…but this is creating its own mayhem, as so many people are desperate with hunger that they are fighting among themselves for a tin of fruit or some flour and oil.
I can hardly bear to watch. I don’t know the answer, and truly, I have no power to help in these world tragedies. Those with the power to make positive change seem to lack the will. Even my Christian faith seems impotent – where is God in all of this suffering?
I’ve certainly lost my youthful optimism that, under God’s watchful eye, all will be well. And yes, I know, I’m operating out of my definition of “well.” Scripture tells us God’s ways are not our ways…But a starving child?
Through no merit of my own, I was born in the U.S., and the hunger in Gaza doesn’t really affect my life. I have plenty of food, more than enough, in the world’s richest country, which, sadly, has the highest rate of obesity among all the wealthy countries. Do I have to worry about hungry people in a country thousands of miles away, especially since I don’t see what I can do to help? Sometimes I want to sink back in my big green overstuffed loveseat and quote the wisdom of Mark Twain: “Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”
Sounds very tempting…but no! My faith impels me, first to LOOK, even when what I see is devastatingly hard to bear. I need to see the reality of suffering, even when it’s far beyond my circle of life. Second, I need to do SOMETHING. So, okay, I write my elected officials. I participate in a weekly neighborhood food give-away. I donate to St. Vincent de Paul and Doctors Without Borders and Rotary International and the University Food Bank.
Robert and I work at staying attentive to the poor and abandoned in our own backyard. We’ve gotten to know a few people who live in the park near our home. For one older man, Robert brings him hot coffee and an egg sandwich once a week. He probably would like the breakfast delivery every day, but it’s too much of a commitment for us right now. We both speak to him when we see him in the park. We’ve encouraged him to consider help at a shelter, but he resists that. So we do what we can. We SEE him and treat him with dignity, and he is kind and responsive to us too. I still believe if we each do our little part, God’s goodness will grow and spread and overcome the darkness with the light of the Holy Spirit. It is we, after all, who are now the hands and feet, voice and heart of Jesus.
Not as a last resort, by any means, but I’ve really stepped up my prayers. I pray for friends and family and then stretch my prayers tp embrace further and further afield to include our neighborhood, community, country, and Mother Earth, our common home, as Pope Francis reminded us. Lately, I’ve also been praying for God to raise up leaders who are compassionate and wise, and who, if granted the power of government office, will strive with all their might for the common good. And I join my prayer with others; there is power and hope in shared prayer.
When a good book and a sleepy conscience beckon to my weary soul, I turn again to the words of Jesus: “Whatever you did for one of these least sisters or brothers of mine, you did for me.” [Matt 25:40] I raise my eyes to a more eternal view of life, and I can say with Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well; and all shall be well; and all manner of thing shall be well.”
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SAVE THE DATE: Oct 18 (Sat) for the CLM Fall Retreat – Jubilee of Hope with Fr. Dennis Berry, ST! Assumption Church, Seattle (9:30 – 5 pm). Registration coming soon.
