Postmortem 20

Dichosos los que lloren, porque serán consolados.

The second Beatitude.  now, in English

Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted.

I mentioned that in Bogotá in February, when the second father approached carrying his child in his arms to beg alms from us in the car, that after giving him some money, I turned away and wept.  I was so keenly aware of our poverty of spirit.  Not his, but ours.  Not mine, but ours.  Tears are the natural outcome of poverty of spirit.  Without tears, we do not move forward, because the tears cleanse and help us to heal and in turn to become ourselves healers to others. 

When Jesus says Blessed are those that mourn, he isn't simply referring to those who mourn for themselves alone, who are so gripped by self-pity as to not see the sorrows that others share with them.  This is a shared mourning, a collective weeping.  This is the sorrow of repentance, that leads to repentance, this is the sorrow of our cry of helplessness and need that causes us to cry out to God.

This went on happening throughout my time in Colombia.  When I met the Venezuelan family on the sidewalk in Madrid Cundinamarca.  When I encountered in Medellín in a wealthy neighbourhood begging with their babies in their arms.  It was weeks before I could even talk about those encounters without tearing up.  Even now, just thinking about it gets me emotional. 

When Jesus tears our hearts open, then we are going to mourn, we are going to weep, and this is becasue we are being confronted again by our poverty of spirit, the very poverty that we all as broken and lonely human beings share in common.  This is what happens when a thorn from his crown pierces us in the heart.  And until we are so pierced, broken and torn open, we are going to be little use to God.

For this very reason, I find it offensive that this warden from my church would have the gall to tell me that I should only befriend persons with whom I share common interests.  This is limiting, and it can also be elitist and snobbish.  I have been similarly wounded by others in the same church, particularly a wealthy couple that kept buying me off with lame excuses when I tried to invite them for a simple coffee shop visit.  Of course they would refuse.  We have nothing in common.  They are wealthy, I am poor.  They occupy one social class, I occupy one considerably lower.  We will of course be civil, friendly, even affectionate in the church, but otherwise we are strangers and strangers we shall remain.  Well, they will try to buy themselves off anyway.  Until they show some repentance I probably will not give them the time of day.

This kind of thinking runs so contrary to the Gospel of Christ that to even think of this makes me angry.  It is because this mentality is so rampant in my parish church, and I suspect, throughout the Anglican Church, that I actually hope that St. Faith's does get closed down for being simply irrelevant to the Gospel and to the community.  And for the same reason I really don't care if the Anglican Church ceases to exist, because they so consistently default on Jesus' Christ's most central and consistent command: that we love one another as he loves us.

This isn't going to stop me from reaching out.  And neither is it going to stop me from shaming your sorry ass out of existence!