I had a blog ready to post… but today isn’t the day for my
wit.
As I watch the coverage of the Bombing at the Boston
Marathon, my mind has been going like this…
We Christians talk about ourselves as the body of Christ…
and we mean it as more than simple literary metaphor. We mean it as deep spiritual metaphor… we are
the body of Christ. We are many diverse
parts, and yet one… we are invited to be as Jesus and heal, feed, dance,
embrace, struggle and hurt, as his body.
We also recognize the power of Jesus’ body broken in our
communion celebration. In that brokenness,
love is revealed. That brokenness is our
way into understanding, embracing and sharing God’s love. God’s love, the true “love” of the universe:
the peace and wholeness that we all desire in our innermost beings, is not found
in acts of strength or bravado; it is not conferred on another as a gift from
on high… it comes pouring out and through a broken body.. and only through a
broken body.
In the face of the horror and tragedy of the Boston Marathon
today, I cannot be unaffected. As a
Christian, I cannot look away… those broken bodies are my Lord. I am one with those broken bodies. That’s where my God can be found… not at some
victory party when the enemy is defeated, but in the brokenness of my brothers
and sisters. It is here that I can
discover the true power of love, the true heart of God.
I don’t know that means for you or me… what our responses
should be… but I know that I cannot turn away.
I know that I can only truly understand, embrace and share this Divine
love, when I am willing to be a part of the brokenness. And not just my brokenness… but that of the
whole body; the whole world.
I know that I’m just rambling now… but I guess that I what I
need to affirm, is that even though the people whose numbers I have in my Blackberry
are safe and sound – my friends, my brothers and sisters, my Lord and MY body
lie broken on Boylston Street. And it
hurts.
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