A year ago today, my Salvadoran friend Jorge was murdered by a gang member. My thoughts and prayers are with his family especially today and I ask that you join in praying. Please pray for Jorge's family and for all the people around the world whose lives he touched. As we remember Jorge and his death, keep other Salvadorans in your prayers who have lived through and continue to live through similar tragedies. Pray for peace where there is violence, pray for love where there is hatred, and pray for healing where there are wounds.
Today is a sad day in many ways. I mourn the loss of a loving and caring man who lived life to the fullest. I grieve for Jorge's family who struggles in many ways to live without him. I think of the many kids who Jorge treated and cared for as a father, even those who weren't his biologically. I struggle to understand the loss of innocent life. Beyond Jorge and his family, today has made me think more about the violence in El Salvador than I normally do. I mourn the loss of the people who are killed everyday in El Salvador because of violence, the violence of gangs and the violence of poverty.
But I'm also trying very hard (yet not being very successful) to remember Jorge's life and the blessings he was given and the blessings he gave. I'm trying to think about his life and his eternal life, and I'm trying to find the silver lining of this very dark cloud. But no matter how hard I try to focus on life and blessings, the violent images of his death overtake my mind and weigh down my heart.
I wanted to be able to spend the day thinking about the life and love of Jorge, yet the dark, violent images of his death have dominated my mind most of the day. I’m not really sure why it is, but I have very vivid images of Jorge’s death. I have heard multiple times the story of how he was killed and we drove past the spot where he was killed a few times when I was there this summer. I guess the images have formed in my mind from hearing the story and being in the place.
Today, even when I was able to remember and cherish the good memories I have of Jorge, the trail of memories going through my mind always ended in the vivid image of his death. The power of death and violence is strong and controlling- death and the violence of Jorge’s death have come to define the way I remember Jorge. It seems even I, a person desperately searching for peace, cannot overcome the power of violence. But that’s not the way I want it to be and that’s not the way that Jorge or anyone else would want Jorge to be remembered. I’m not sure that it would be possible to separate the memory of Jorge from his death, and this isn’t something that we would want to do. But I (and maybe others who are also mourning Jorge’s death on this day) need to think about the power I am giving to violence when I let violence define someone who graciously loved others and life.
In reality love is so much more powerful than anything else. Just look at the ultimate expression of love: God sending God’s only son to die for the salvation of all. This act of love has overcome a LOT of violence including Jorge’s death. Even though I might know this intellectually, love just didn’t seem to be the force that dominated my thoughts and feelings today. The good news is, God willing, I will have another day tomorrow to try to focus on love, life, and peace rather than violence.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
More Grace
Since I wrote the post called Brokeness, Something, and Grace, I have become more and more convinced that the "something" I experienced in El Salvador is indeed grace. Further reflection, reading some other great stuff, and a class I'm taking have helped me reach a fuller understanding of how it is that the "something" is grace. And in general I've been doing a lot of thinking about grace (as all good Lutherans should do, right?), so I want to share more about all my thinking and experiencing of grace.
I'm reading a fantastic book by a brilliant man named Dean Brackley. He is a Jesuit from the U.S. who took on the job of being the rector of the University of Central America (UCA) in El Salvador for 20 years after the previous rector of the university was massacred along with 5 other Jesuit priests and the two women back in 1989 (see my post about the UCA). The book that I'm reading by Dean Brackley is called The Call to Discernment in Troubled Times and in this book Brackley writes about what it means to be a Christian through lived experiences (rather than just believing a certain doctrine). Because of Brackley's time in El Salvador and his work among the poor previous to his work in El Salvador, the book focuses on how our interactions and relationships with the poor are especially relevant to helping us understand God's call.
Dean Brackley writes about a young Salvadoran woman, Marta, whose family had been forced to leave their community years before when the Salvadoran army came through. One day, Marta, stopped by and Brackley invited her for a lunch of chicken. The young woman gave thanks and then ate the meal. When Brackley urged her to take a second helping, Marta refused saying that she should not get accustomed to what she could not have. Brackley writes, "Marta had learned to steward her hunger. She knew that eating a lot today only makes things worse tomorrow. I was confused, then a little embarrassed, as the truth of Marta's life sank in. Not that I should feel bad about eating. Rather, it is appropriate to feel sorrow that Marta does not eat well- and moved to do something about that." We should not be paralyzed by guilt because we have more than enough food (and water and clothing and shelter and all our other stuff) while there are millions of people like Marta who do not have enough. We should not be paralyzed by guilt because of what we have done (directly and indirectly) to bring about the suffering of people like Marta. It was through Brackley's interaction with Marta that he realizes "The grace-full acceptance by Marta and others like her of people like me places us before and acceptance more radical than their own. It seems that God has chosen people like them as ambassadors of grace for people like me."
That was a lot of explaining to get to this point, but I think Brackley described the "something" just perfectly. He experienced something very similar to what I experienced in El Salvador. It was grace, a small taste of the grace of God.
My Salvadoran friends, those I met in passing, and those who welcomed me into their homes accepted me just as I am. There is absolutely no reason why the Salvadorans should have accepted me, welcomed me into their homes, and showed me such gracious hospitality. If anything, there were far more reasons why the Salvadorans should have just continued on their way and ignored me rather than showering me with the love and hospitality they did. For one, their hospitality cost them time, food, and money- all things that most Salvadorans don't have a lot to spare. Second, I was a complete stranger (at least at the beginning) and they had no reason to trust me and no obligation to even take a second look at me. Third, as an American I represent an entity that has created and intensified a number of things that have been very harmful for the Salvadorans. The U.S. played a huge role in funding and providing weapons to the Salvadoran government during the civil war in which tens of thousands of Salvadoran were killed and far more were injured and otherwise detrimentally affected. Today, the U.S. dominates the international trade system in which the average Salvadoran has practically no chance of making a fair wage much less a chance to get ahead. Our immigration system and our war on drugs add more reasons why Salvadorans should not have embraced and accepted me. Yet all these reasons and more did not deter the Salvadorans from showing me the grace through loving me and accepting me just as I am.
There are hundreds more reasons why God should not accept my sinful self, and yet God does and always will. I think that because I experienced the grace of acceptance through the relationships with Salvadorans, I got a taste of what true acceptance feels like. It is through the grace of God that God accepts me just as I am. This taste of complete, unconditional acceptance and love from the Salvadorans helped me imagine just how much more I am completely and unconditionally accepted and loved by God. That "something" that I felt in El Salvador was the grace of Salvadorans but even more it was the grace of God. Now that I am starting to comprehend the grace I received from my Salvadoran friends, I have gotten a small taste of God's grace. My brain can only begin to comprehend the fullness of God's grace- to be completely loved and accepted just as I was created not matter what I have done or will do. And I do feel that grace through a sense of calm and peace.
While I was in El Salvador and now, I have been trying to figure out how I can continue to feel that “something”, that grace that I felt so strongly while I was in El Salvador. It has been difficult to continue to feel and recognize the grace of complete acceptance and love without my Salvadoran friends giving me that grace and acceptance they so graciously give. However, I think now that I better understand what that “something” is and how it connects with God’s unconditional love and acceptance of me I can (maybe) learn to find that grace and acceptance within myself rather than depending on my Salvadoran friends to refresh my sense of God’s grace. Perhaps part of taking that "something" with me from El Salvador is to give the grace I received to others around me. I have received so much grace, and in giving that grace to others I can better appreciate the grace I have within myself (if I can give it out, then I will realize that I do indeed have grace in abundance).
But, as usual, such thoughts could not have come without more questions... Why is it that Salvadorans are so much more full of grace and willing to extend that grace than we Americans are? Is God indeed sending God's grace to me through other people, and if so why did God choose to do it this way? How does one continue to feel grace and then give out that grace to others?
I'm reading a fantastic book by a brilliant man named Dean Brackley. He is a Jesuit from the U.S. who took on the job of being the rector of the University of Central America (UCA) in El Salvador for 20 years after the previous rector of the university was massacred along with 5 other Jesuit priests and the two women back in 1989 (see my post about the UCA). The book that I'm reading by Dean Brackley is called The Call to Discernment in Troubled Times and in this book Brackley writes about what it means to be a Christian through lived experiences (rather than just believing a certain doctrine). Because of Brackley's time in El Salvador and his work among the poor previous to his work in El Salvador, the book focuses on how our interactions and relationships with the poor are especially relevant to helping us understand God's call.
Dean Brackley writes about a young Salvadoran woman, Marta, whose family had been forced to leave their community years before when the Salvadoran army came through. One day, Marta, stopped by and Brackley invited her for a lunch of chicken. The young woman gave thanks and then ate the meal. When Brackley urged her to take a second helping, Marta refused saying that she should not get accustomed to what she could not have. Brackley writes, "Marta had learned to steward her hunger. She knew that eating a lot today only makes things worse tomorrow. I was confused, then a little embarrassed, as the truth of Marta's life sank in. Not that I should feel bad about eating. Rather, it is appropriate to feel sorrow that Marta does not eat well- and moved to do something about that." We should not be paralyzed by guilt because we have more than enough food (and water and clothing and shelter and all our other stuff) while there are millions of people like Marta who do not have enough. We should not be paralyzed by guilt because of what we have done (directly and indirectly) to bring about the suffering of people like Marta. It was through Brackley's interaction with Marta that he realizes "The grace-full acceptance by Marta and others like her of people like me places us before and acceptance more radical than their own. It seems that God has chosen people like them as ambassadors of grace for people like me."
That was a lot of explaining to get to this point, but I think Brackley described the "something" just perfectly. He experienced something very similar to what I experienced in El Salvador. It was grace, a small taste of the grace of God.
My Salvadoran friends, those I met in passing, and those who welcomed me into their homes accepted me just as I am. There is absolutely no reason why the Salvadorans should have accepted me, welcomed me into their homes, and showed me such gracious hospitality. If anything, there were far more reasons why the Salvadorans should have just continued on their way and ignored me rather than showering me with the love and hospitality they did. For one, their hospitality cost them time, food, and money- all things that most Salvadorans don't have a lot to spare. Second, I was a complete stranger (at least at the beginning) and they had no reason to trust me and no obligation to even take a second look at me. Third, as an American I represent an entity that has created and intensified a number of things that have been very harmful for the Salvadorans. The U.S. played a huge role in funding and providing weapons to the Salvadoran government during the civil war in which tens of thousands of Salvadoran were killed and far more were injured and otherwise detrimentally affected. Today, the U.S. dominates the international trade system in which the average Salvadoran has practically no chance of making a fair wage much less a chance to get ahead. Our immigration system and our war on drugs add more reasons why Salvadorans should not have embraced and accepted me. Yet all these reasons and more did not deter the Salvadorans from showing me the grace through loving me and accepting me just as I am.
There are hundreds more reasons why God should not accept my sinful self, and yet God does and always will. I think that because I experienced the grace of acceptance through the relationships with Salvadorans, I got a taste of what true acceptance feels like. It is through the grace of God that God accepts me just as I am. This taste of complete, unconditional acceptance and love from the Salvadorans helped me imagine just how much more I am completely and unconditionally accepted and loved by God. That "something" that I felt in El Salvador was the grace of Salvadorans but even more it was the grace of God. Now that I am starting to comprehend the grace I received from my Salvadoran friends, I have gotten a small taste of God's grace. My brain can only begin to comprehend the fullness of God's grace- to be completely loved and accepted just as I was created not matter what I have done or will do. And I do feel that grace through a sense of calm and peace.
While I was in El Salvador and now, I have been trying to figure out how I can continue to feel that “something”, that grace that I felt so strongly while I was in El Salvador. It has been difficult to continue to feel and recognize the grace of complete acceptance and love without my Salvadoran friends giving me that grace and acceptance they so graciously give. However, I think now that I better understand what that “something” is and how it connects with God’s unconditional love and acceptance of me I can (maybe) learn to find that grace and acceptance within myself rather than depending on my Salvadoran friends to refresh my sense of God’s grace. Perhaps part of taking that "something" with me from El Salvador is to give the grace I received to others around me. I have received so much grace, and in giving that grace to others I can better appreciate the grace I have within myself (if I can give it out, then I will realize that I do indeed have grace in abundance).
But, as usual, such thoughts could not have come without more questions... Why is it that Salvadorans are so much more full of grace and willing to extend that grace than we Americans are? Is God indeed sending God's grace to me through other people, and if so why did God choose to do it this way? How does one continue to feel grace and then give out that grace to others?
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