Friday

When Morning Dawns

There is the story of a young student who went to his rabbi with a question. ‘Rabbi,’ he asked, ‘how can we tell exactly the moment when night has ended and day has begun? Is it when it's so light that we can no longer see the stars in the sky?’

‘No, my son,’ said the rabbi. ‘That is not how we tell that night is ended and the day has begun.’

‘Then how can we tell?’ asked the boy.

The rabbi spoke softly: ‘We know that night has ended and day has begun when we look into the face of the stranger next to us and recognise he is our brother.’

With God there is no night but only day. For when God looks at you and me He always sees a much cherished child and never a stranger. There is nothing in us — nothing about us — that God does not see, and yet even on our worst days, God's attitude towards us — what He really thinks about us — never changes: ‘You are my dear boy, my dear girl,’ He says. ‘I love you, I'll never give up on you, and I’ll never call you a stranger.’

For those of us who have come face to face with our frailties and have seen and named our sinfulness, those words of the Lord are both comfort and healing, ‘you are my dear boy, my dear girl, and I'll never give up on you.’

But those words are more than comfort and healing for us. They are also God's mandate to us. God, in His gracious hospitality, has welcomed every single one of us inside the circle of His love and left no one outside. He is asking us to do the same. He is asking us to make the habit of hospitality the foundation of our lives. ‘As I have welcomed you into my life,’ He's saying, ‘so must you welcome one another and call no one stranger.’

How different every part of our lives could be if we refused to label anyone as ‘stranger.’ How different the way we'd drive and do business and even celebrate this liturgy. How different life could be if we said inside our heads, ‘I don't know her name, I don't know who he is--and I probably never will--but I do know she's my sister, and he's my brother. And I cannot call them strangers. I cannot fail to value them.’ How different life would be!

So let us pray for one another, no matter what our culture, or nationality, or political affiliation, or disability, or gender. Let us all be one in His name.

Heavenly Father, grant that the darkness will end for us all. In Your light may we look upon one another's faces and see there only brothers and sisters, always cherished as one family. Amen

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1 Comments:

At 19:18, Blogger California Engineer said...

I sat down with my 2 1/2 year old granddaughter yesterday, and when her favorite "Frozen" wouldn't start, I clicked on the 1930's version of "Snow White" instead. Moments into the story, where the woodsman that had been sent out to kill snow white appeared that he might actually do it, she cried and snuggled to me. Snow white began running away through the "wicked" forest, tree branches grabbing her clothes, evil eyes peering from the dark, scary sounds... until the sun began to come up and suddenly the evil eyes were deer and bunnies, and squirrels and birds. The sun had arisen, and she could see what the scary sights really were.

 

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