“The great paradox of solitude is that as we enter alone (silent prayer) into the sacred presence of God, we find ourselves moving closer to others, indeed to the whole human race.” – Thomas Merton

Peacemakers are not agitators, anarchists, or traitors say Sister Joan Chittister. Rather peacemakers “call us to the best of what we are.” They are loud and quiet, and they are nonviolent and compassionate.

There are no expendable pawns in Jesus’ kingdom. He healed and restored human dignity for all.

We need a community where we can turn to God and find hope and strength to go on. Within a healthy community we can withstand whatever challenges arise.

How easy or how difficult is it to tell those we love that we love them?

In the middle of this pandemic, what are we looking for?

Jesus says, if you love me Peter, feed and tend my sheep. Love offers us hope and new life. Love lets go and begins anew while holding us accountable at the same time. What does it mean to love as Christ loved us when we are so beautifully imperfect?

“When we pray, go to our inner room, close our door, and pray to God in secret,” Jesus tells us. As we learn to sit in sacred silence, the chaos of our minds gradually subsides. We empty our minds to allow God’s peace to move within us and fill us.

Last Sunday my mom and I were driving to Cortez to see a friend in need. Just past the west side of Mesa Verde hill, we saw a barefoot woman running hysterically down the shoulder of Highway 160. She was crying and flailing her arms in the air. She stumbled and weaved as she ran, pure terror. A car was parked behind her and I thought she might be running for her life from whomever was in the car.

My stomach tightened in a ball and I gripped the steering wheel harder. What should I do? I turned to my 81-year old mom and asked, “Do you think we should stop? And, if we do stop should we give her a ride if she needs one?” I was not for sure, but intuitively I thought she was fleeing a domestic violence situation. The parked car behind her concerned me. Her life could be at risk and if we stopped our lives could be at risk. We could call 911 but by the time help arrived it might be too late. And, I had concerns about the coronavirus as well. Would we want a frantic, barefoot stranger riding in our car?

What was our best response?

Many of the stories of Jesus tell about him being moved with compassion. Marcus Borg in his transformative book, “Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time” says, “For Jesus, compassion was the central quality of God and the central moral quality of a life centered in God.” Compassion is feeling the suffering or the pain of someone else and being moved by that suffering to do something. “To be compassionate is to feel as God feels and to act as God acts in a life-giving, nourishing,” and generative way. Frank Rogers says compassion is the heartbeat of humanity that restores life, and Jewish rabbis and scholars believe the ethic of compassion is the essence of the Torah.

Jesus lived compassion. He touched the lepers and the blind. The hungry moved him with compassion. Jesus drew close and healed the man with unclean spirits. He forgave the thief on the cross. He listened intently to the woman at the well.

We run from our souls. Our dreams. Our hopes. Our identity. We run from joy, peace, wonder, and beauty. Father Richard Rohr says, “Resurrection offers us a future. One that is unknown and thus scary.” So, we cling to the familiar even if it harms us or no longer serves us or society. “It is easier to gather our energy around death, pain, and potential problems than around love, joy, and new life.” What do we hold on to? What do we cling to? Can we let go and enter into new life?