When I was in the 5th grade, we had a substitute teacher at school one day. It was a small school and we rotated class rooms (with our classmates) throughout the day to prepare us for Middle School the next year. As we moved along the hallway, students began to whisper about the substitute teacher. She’d never subbed at our school before and she seemed mean and frightened them. I arrived, quite nervously, at her classroom that afternoon. Her behavior frightened me too. When the bell rang, I exited the room with a sigh of relief. A friend was outside the door, waiting to enter. She asked me about the teacher. I confirmed, she was mean and she scared me. Unbeknownst to me, the substitute teacher had exited the room and was standing behind me. Suddenly, I felt fingernails dig into my arm. She grabbed hold of me by my hair (long at the time) and began to shake me as she verbally berated me. I cannot remember anything she said to me. I can only recall my feelings: sheer terror. I don’t even recall how I got from that hallway to the principal’s office. But somehow I did and my next recollection was hearing the principal speaking with my mother by phone. There’d been an unfortunate incident and my big brother (13 years my senior) had been dispatched to pick me up and take me home.
It was not easy for me to get past the violence of that day. Violence never really leaves us. Its remnants are like an unpleasant, sticky residue that settles in our souls.
A few years ago – I don’t remember exactly when – I started a new prayer habit. At bedtime – as I snuggle in to my warm, soft bed with a kiss from my husband and my dogs settled in to their dog beds next to mine – I pray God’s mercy for those who do not know my blessing of a peaceful night’s sleep. It seems such a simple thing; but I recognize that around our world, it is not a blessing to be taken lightly. I think of families in places like Aleppo who cannot possible relax at bedtime as they await the next round of bombing. I think of people in places like Chicago’s South Side who lay in bed uncertain if a stray bullet might find its way into their home and find a target in the darkness. I think of people whose nationality or ethnicity means they must live on “high alert” for danger 24/7, even in their own home. I think of children who live in terror of the family member who will visit their bed in the dark of the night to do unspeakable things. I think of veterans and others who have suffered severe trauma whose persistent nightmares replay their horrors over and over again.
Jesus said, “Blessed are the gentle, for they will inherit the earth” (Matt. 5:5). First century Palestine was a tough place to be. The “look out for number 1” perspective of the religious leaders would lead them to offer Jesus up as a sacrificial lamb to save their own skins. And the “take no prisoners” mindset of Rome would lead to Jesus’ sentence of crucifixion, the most brutal form of capital punishment. Resolutely embracing the value of gentleness meant a lot of hurt and pain for Jesus… Perhaps that is why many of us, as his followers, still don’t seem very keen on the idea.
In a recent small group I led, I asked, “What does it mean for us to live as Christians today in counter-cultural ways?” Someone tossed out, “Is it about following the ten commandments?” Another person responded, “I wonder if it is about living out the Beatitudes?” (see Matthew 5:1-12) Hmmm…
Jesus said: “Blessed are the gentle… Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness… Blessed are the merciful… Blessed are the peacemakers… Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you… on my account…”
[If you live near Lafayette, join us on 9/11 at 3:00 p.m. at Memorial Island in Columbian Park (http://www.lafayette.in.gov/Facilities/Facility/Details/Columbian-Park-7) for an Inter-Faith Service of Peace and Unity.]