A Living Death

" God did not make death, nor does He rejoice in the destruction of the living. For He fashioned all things that they might have being; . . . in the image of His own nature He made [humankind]. But by the envy of the devil, death entered the world, and they who belong to his company experience it." [Wisdom 1: 13-15; 2: 23-24].

We live in a culture  of death. It is very uncool of me to say this. Maybe it is even radical. I see death and destruction all around me. We allow fellow citizens in our own communities to live homeless, in filthy rags, starving, and buffeted by the elements. But we choose to ignore these inconvenient creatures. We celebrate our own wealth. We measure our worth by what we own.

We judge ourselves and others, by physical looks, and by designer clothes and accessories. Yet, God gave each of us gifts in our own right. Our beauty is  not in how we adorn ourselves. It is in what innately comes from God.

 On various social media, it has become "sport" to mock and judge others. We forget how alone we all are, if we judge everyone else as unworthy.

We worship human endeavor, not a Higher Provider. But if our  own efforts fail, we descend into fear. Who will rescue us, now that we have discovered how very fractured we humans are?

How do I know all this? I lived in a Culture of Death growing up.

In  my house, I was the battleground of hate. I was called ugly every day. When I cried over this, I was told that I was "too sensitive." I was not fed dinner many nights. Sometimes, I was hit, or called a failure. No one ever hugged me or said, "I love you."

God  must have rained His grace down upon me. Hate is a living death. I decided to believe in Love. I tended my mother's garden without being asked. I brought flowers into that ugly home, to beautify it. Every Sunday afternoon, I did the family mending and sewing. My faith in Love, Jesus' greatest commandment, saved me. If I could not receive love, I was going to give it. I did not implode in anger.

My family judged everyone, not just me. This one was a black man, this one was a foolish Christian, that one was too poor. No one was ever any good. I started to realize that, if everyone is no good, then I would never have any friends. Small wonder that my parents never had any friends. Judgment is a living death. I decided to get out on my bicycle and see who I would meet.

My family used to say that they worshipped "The Almighty Dollar." They believed that money could save them. They would use the money against me, to influence my behavior. If only I would take music lessons, they would buy me a piano. If Idared to major in what I chose to study in college, they would cut off tuition. If I did not go to grad school as they chose, they would kick me out of the house. Materialism is borne of fear. Being a slave to money is a living death.  It is a zero sum game, because someone always has more than you. As money became a weapon of power against me, I decided to make it irrelevant. I chose, instead, to thank God for my gifts, which come from Him. What I needed in this life would follow. When I heard the phrase, "Almighty Dollar," I would cringe and whisper, "You mean, Almighty God."

My parents had no belief in God. They mocked Christians as losers, who could  not take care of themselves, so all they had was God. To paraphrase Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa, the first mistake my family made was to take me to church. By age 14, I was no longer allowed to go to church. But my faith was as a tiny flame, which I buried deep inside me, to protect it. I began to realize that, if all we have is human endeavor, and humans are so very frail, then we really have no one to turn to. Once humans fail, if there is no God, we descend into the agony of despair.

Literally, my faith saved me! I rejected the culture of death, in favor of the culture of life! Call it my childhood longing for Love, call it that tiny flame of faith-- whichever it is, the belief in Love and in a Higher Power saved me.

This week's Gospel talks about the Canaanite woman who is healed, simply by reaching out to touch the tassel of Jesus' robe.  When Jesus sensed her presence, He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has saved you!" Some have compared me to this woman. They ask how I could possibly have endured what I did?  In choosing faith, I chose also to be healed. When I converted, during the process I kept "hearing", "Only say the word and I shall be healed!" This is the call to Communion. It is the call to choose Jesus, to choose Life. I do  not think that my family saw the mighty power and joy available to them in being healed. What a tragedy.

As I converted, I was losing my best friend to cancer, my father to sudden death, my mother-in-law to cancer, then my own mother. I felt as if  my world was collapsing. But I had God, and He had my back! I honestly could not have gotten through that time without Him. Once again, my faith saved me.

Lord, I reject a culture of death: of violence, of hate, of greed, of fear, of intolerance, of despair. These are a living death. Instead, in choosing Love, Faith and Joy, I choose Life. I choose You!

[Related Postings: "Not of This World",  ay 21, 2012; "Saved By Faith", March 17, 2012.]

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