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Some of those in the crowd asked about the Galileans who were murdered in the sanctuary while they were at worship.
Jesus asked, "Do you think that because they suffered this death these Galileans were worse than all others? No, I tell you; but unless you change your life, you will all perish as they did.
Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them — do you think that they were worse sinners than everyone else in Jerusalem? Certainly not! But I tell you: unless you change your life, you will all perish just as they did." ~ The Gospel according to Luke 13:1-5
There is something about "the numbers game" that is very attractive. Compiling statistics, accumulating data ... It brings us comfort — by keeping things at a safe distance; making death and danger seem foreign and unreal. Gee, did you hear that eighteen people were crushed when the Siloam wall collapsed? That 32 people died when a car bomb exploded? That hundreds have died from domestic violence?
We may be horrified to learn that people were killed, but it is theoretical, the whole thing happened elsewhere — in some far-distant, unimaginable realm. It leaves us open to speculate as to what happened: to wonder why those people were where they were, and why it happened to them.
Fifteen or fifty, three hundred or three thousand, it makes no difference. The numbers — the multitude — cushions us from reality. The anonymity keeps "them" at a safe distance. What ever went on has nothing to do with us.
40-year-old Tanya McCall was gunned down in the parking lot of Acts Full Gospel Church in Oakland just before the 8 a.m. service on Sunday. But then we hear a name, an age, a home town ... all at once it changes. All at once the theoretical becomes personal.
After the shooting, other parishioners rushed to McCall's side, praying over her as paramedics arrived from a fire station adjacent to the church.... The manager of the office where she worked broke down in tears upon learning of McCall's death, recalling that she was a "very sweet person, a very professional lady."
Suddenly these "many" are no longer distant or unfamiliar, but easily recognizable. They did the same things we do; went to the same places we do; had jobs like ours; lived in neighborhoods like ours; had likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams — just like we do. These were warm and vibrant spirits whose lives have been cut off. Friends and family members mourn them: spouses, parents, children, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends and coworkers ... many hearts are hurting. Hearts just like ours.
And now the cause of these things is no longer an itch of curiosity, but an ache in our souls. The "why" behind it is a question we must have answered.
Were these deaths "justified"? Was Tanya and those sitting in the shade of the wall at Siloam such bad people that they deserved to be killed? Was it punishment from on High: God exacting revenge for sins or shortcomings? Do we need to live in fear of our Creator?
Jesus answers all these with a resounding "No!" Of course not. Those who suffer are not condemned by God; those who die have not been abandoned by our Lord.
We do not need to be afraid of the Beloved, who is merciful and loving. Nor is there any cause to avoid those who are in pain — their misfortune is not "contagious." They are not sinners whose company we ought to shun. They are our sisters and brothers, whom we are called to love and care for. (Luke 6:20-26; Mt 5:1-12)
Those who experience trials and tragedies are just like us: one people, one God, one family. Children of the Beloved, our lives are intertwined: we must rely on one another in order to survive in a world that can be dangerous, in a culture that can be unkind — even vindictive — to those who are "less fortunate." In the face of a worldview that says, "Every man for himself!" Our Lord commands us to "love one another" (John 13:34-35; 15:12; 15:17).
Jesus’ response to concerns about death and suffering is directed to the community. He doesn’t speak to "you" — singular; but he tells the crowd that, unless we change our ways, you-all will perish. Our hearts have already told us what we know to be true. There are no lone wolf Christians: we are called to nurture and encourage and support one another. Our lives are interconnected: even our salvation is bound up in each other.
Jesus came to call us to a new life: to guide us on a holy and healing Path of love and mercy, peace and compassion. If we do not seek to change — if we allow the values of grasping and greed, of violence and exploitation to rule this world — many more Tanyas will die. A thousand, perhaps. Perhaps millions.
If we do not seek to change — ourselves and our world — how many more hearts will be broken? How much more suffering will spread across the planet? How much longer will the earth groan in anxious longing as it awaits God’s Children to reveal ourselves? (Romans 8:19-23)
On Sunday morning at a little before 8 a.m., the death toll from gun related violence increased by one.
Just one.
But that one mattered. Tremendously.
Every one of us matters — frantically, desperately — to our Creator. Every one of us is beloved of God; every life is precious, every soul is sought-after as if it was the only one (Mt 10:29-31; Luke 12:6-7). And we are all in this together.
Virtual hugs and real-time blessings,
Deborah +
This Week’s Suggested Spiritual Exercise:What one thing can you do this week to help heal the world?
"We can do no great things — only small things with great love."
~ Mother Teresa of Calcutta
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