Mother Teresa once said, “Our vocation is to belong to Jesus so completely that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. What you and I must do is nothing less than putting our love for Christ into practice. The important thing is not how much we accomplish, but how much love we put into our deeds every day. That is the measure of our love for God.”
The flycatcher – http://wp.me/p3WfJG-7c
Ammon Hennacy, a Catholic Worker, said, “Love without courage and wisdom is sentimentality, as with the ordinary church member. Courage without love and wisdom is foolhardiness, as with the ordinary soldier. Wisdom without love and courage is cowardice, as with the ordinary intellectual.”
Dan Berrigan said, “If you’re going to follow Jesus, well, he got killed. That’s just part of the job description: making trouble for peace.”
Perhaps the all-time, greatest feat in wishful thinking is the notion following Jesus is achieved by putting a cross on instead of being put upon one.
French sociologist Jacques Ellul wrote, “One thing, however, is sure: unless Christians fulfill their prophetic role, unless they become the advocates and defenders of the truly poor, witness to their misery, then, infallibly, violence will suddenly break out. In one way or other ‘their blood cries to heaven,’ and violence will seem the only way out. It will be too late to try to calm them and create harmony.”
I knew that it was likely to happen one day, but Noah had never mentioned it. Naively, I assumed that maybe he just stayed under the radar of kids who would bully him. I was wrong. Yesterday in the car I was lamenting how I saw a student make fun of another student today. Noah, in a very matter-of-fact way, replied, “Yeah, kids make fun of my shoes.” I felt like someone punched me in the gut.
I wanted to ask a million questions at once…Who is this punk and where does he live? Did you tell a teacher? Did he do anything else to you? Did you feel physically threatened? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have bought you new shoes! Great shoes! Awesome shoes! Way better shoes than he has…[continue Psycho-Mom rant here]
I managed to swallow back all of my fear and anger and ask instead, “What did you do?” Noah calmly replied, “Oh, nothing. This stuff just happens.” I asked if he would like new shoes. Looking out the window as we pulled into our neighborhood, Noah replied, “No, I’ll get new shoes when I outgrow my old ones. We don’t buy new shoes because of that.”
Henri Nouwen , in Adam, tells the story of Adam Arnett, his “friend, teacher and my guide” at L’Arche Daybreak community in Toronto. Nouwen served as Adam’s caregiver and, after Adam’s death, felt compelled to write how “Like that of the first Adam, our Adam represents every human person and thus more easily raises the question: ‘Who is your Adam who speaks to you about God.’”
I suppose Noah, in all of his autistic mystery, has spoken to me about God more than anyone I have ever known. His calm response was more than just an indicator that he doesn’t feel social pressures due to his challenges. Something in the tone of his reply let me know that he had just completely seen through an uncomfortable encounter with humanity. While it took me a few moments to grasp a Christ-like response, his insight was immediate. Nouwen wrote about the aptitude people with disabilities show in displaying better responses to the world and it’s pressures.
He was a person, who by his very life announced the marvelous mystery of our God: I am precious, beloved, whole and born of God. Adam bore silent witness to his mystery, which has nothing to do with whether or not he could speak, walk, or express himself, whether or not he made money, had a job, was fashionable, famous, married or single. It had to do with his being. He was and is a beloved child of God. It is the same news that Jesus came to announce, and it is the news that all those who are poor keep proclaiming in and through their very weakness.
Unfortunately, there is a very loud, consistent, and powerful message coming to us from our world that leads us to believe that we must prove our belovedness by how we look, by what we have, and by what we can accomplish…We need to hear the message announced and see the message embodied, over and over again. Only then do we find the courage to claim it and to live from it.
Noah reminds me there is a better way to live and respond to the world, a Third Way. Often times, for his brain, this different way is his default and I am left wondering which of us is really “disabled.”
How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of him who brings good tidings,
who publishes peace,
who brings good tidings of good,
who publishes salvation,
who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”
 Henri J.M. Nouwen, Adam, God’s Beloved (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1997), 15.
 Ibid. 17.
 Ibid. 36-37.
Twentieth-century novelist Georges Bernarnos said, “Every particle of Christ’s divine charity is today more precious for your security — for your security, I say — than all the atom bombs in all the stockpiles.”
Common Prayer, A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals p.258
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are reproached for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.
I’ve had a week filled with questions about a lot of things. Things concerning the future and things about what happened in the past. At some point though, we just have to start moving forward as best we can without a plan. Making that happen when surrounded by paralyzing doubt is easier said than done – even when we’d really like it to happen.
I’m not new to uncertainty. I embrace it so well on a philosophical level sometimes that my peers fear I am overly dark or pessimistic. I’m not a negative person; I’ve just accepted a reality where God has allowed free will, which creates a degree of openness and chaos from which we don’t always benefit.
But the feeling of not knowing how to move forward, or which direction would cause the least amount of potential damage has been like holding my breath for months. I’ve felt surrounded by doubt, fear, failure, loss, and grief. Struggle as I might, I’ve been unable to swim to the surface.
Sunday at church, I read a hymn that gave me another alternative. In addition to the doubts and fears, I can also have “Christ be with Me.”
Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
If I believe Christ-following means taking up my cross (which I do) then I can anticipate that loss and grief will be reflected in my Way. I am following in the steps, after all, of Christ before me on his cross. But I can also know that comfort and restoration surround me as well – in both quiet and danger.
This week I am listening for his voice in the “mouth of friend and stranger,” searching for the strength and hope to move forward. Still surrounded, on all sides.
 Hymnal: A Worship Book (Elgin, Ill.: Brethren u.a., 1992), 442.