Postmortem 22

Dichosos los humildes, porque recibirán la tierra como herencia.

Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth

Or, the Alfred E. Newman version:

Blessed are the censors, for they shall inhibit the earth.

That last little take on the Beatitude was my first introduction to the Gospels, I think at the tender age of eleven, or so.  Only later I learned the...er...original text.  It still puts a smile on my face.

Meekness, or humility, is going to be the natural outcome of poverty of spirit, mourning, and the hunger for justice.  I have no idea if that's where I am now.  If you are truly humble then you are going to be the last person who is going to know about it.  Humility, like every other virtue is quite commonly faked and especially in the churches.  They only see you there on Sundays.  They will not be able to follow you around the other six days a week.  And so far, they have not yet come up with a Christian Daily Humility Monitor app for your smart phones (I still don't have one of those toys).

Of course, God is always watching us.  And not always from a distance.  And I don't think that a lot of people are really prepared to live their lives as though God is indeed always watching us, and not always from a distance.  Of course, whether we believe in his existence or not, the way we understand the creator really needs to be revamped.  I, for one, try to live as though I am aware that God is always present, always watching, always listening  But this doesn't really frighten me into behaving well.  I generally do try to behave well, though I still at times have my moments.  For example, when I am writing this blog, Gentle Reader.

But God is always present, a presence of love, care, tenderness, protection and help.  Also one who will not kindly take to his love being spurned or insulted.  But I don't simply pretend that  God is present.  To me, God is always present.  Just as he exists at the very heart of every atom, and every subatomic particle in the universe.

And thinking this way makes e feel very humble, because I am reminded over and over again what a small , almost nonexistent part I have in the universe. 

But I am a man of unclean lips, and I live in a nation of people with unclean lips.  Just like the prophet Isaiah, when he had his vision of God.  I live in a rich country full of social and economic inequality, and I attend a church full of the kind of people for whom the people i encountered en Colombia speak an entirely different language, and I am not simply talking about Spanish.  Because I have been poor and homeless and have lived with stigma, I can speak their language, along with Spanish, and it is the same language of the people who live on our own streets and sidewalks here in Vancouver. 

It is really the language of Jesus, who became so very poor and vulnerable for us, yet remains in every way God.  That is what I saw in the faces and heard in the voices of the poor beggars in Colombia, the Venezuelan family with the little boy.  The two young fathers holding their children in their arms while asking Alonso and I for alms.  The two mothers with their babies in their arms begging in a wealthy neighbourhood in Medellín.   And some of our local beggars whom I have stopped to chat with and give money to, Jamie, Peter and Eugene.  Also the homeless drug addict who was hanging out in the alley outside my building yesterday.  Instead of letting myself get annoyed with hin and his friend, since they were a bit loud, on my way out for a walk, I said hi to him.  I saw in his face what I saw in the faces of the others.  god present, in his glory and dignity, in the disguise of our humble vulnerability  and in our broken human poverty.