Enough grace for all
Contemplating what drives someone to kill another person because of racial/ethnic/sexuality-gender hatred, and what if instead of hating the murderer, we loved them?
It's probably not what they want. They might prefer to be feared. Or loathed. They might act in heinous manners to further their malicious agenda, hoping their devious actions will continue to stir chaos, which could encourage additional misdeeds.
I'm stitching hearts into little sections of quilt sandwiches, pondering the murder of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo in Houston, Texas earlier this week. Slowly affixing this quilt into one coherent cozy, kind of the opposite of what the person who shot Lorenzo Salgado Araujo in the chest did. And yet, I'm trying to not project anger on that ICE agent. I'm trying to extend grace while attempting to understand why ending a person's life seemed to matter more than allowing them to live.
Earlier this evening, while watching the England vs Norway match, I collected my book of saints and learned about St. Benedict. I knew nothing of him, though I'd heard of Benedictine monks. I retrieved a journal and noted some of his teachings: to embrace obedience, humility, stability. And to incorporate these into the community of my life.
And now I'm pondering forgiveness. Yet not merely forgiveness, but to love instead of hate. To embrace instead of injure. To diffuse instead of escalate. Hard tools when shouting angrily feels better. It feels worthy when a life is so brutally slain; of course we should protest and wave our fists and signs.
Shouldn't we?
What if instead love was our response. Not to condone, but to heal. Not to excuse, but to bear mercy. Not to engage in the language spoken by those whose hearts are so brittle, but to employ radical kindness and sincere empathy. To, as St. Paul wrote in Romans 12.20, quoting Proverbs 25:21-22: On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head."
I've always shied away from the whole heaping burning coals on another's head, but I get the message. To prick their conscience, induce shame, and possibly bring them to repentance. For the next verse in Romans admonishes a vital truth: Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
I don't know where to go next with all this. It's after eight p.m., I'm tired, and sleep beckons. Yet this was in my head as hand-quilted six hearts. I haven't done anything on this quilt in nearly two weeks. The grandsons went home this morning, but we'll see them again before summer is over. Maybe by then I'll have a better grasp on this notion of radical compassion. Maybe.
In the meantime, I pray for those who love Lorenzo Salgado Araujo. I pray for the person who killed him. I pray for peace for all on this planet, and for a better understanding of how to be more loving and less judgemental, resentful, mad. I don't want to be angry about what I can't change. I want to have more courage to love those I don't comprehend.
And with that, good night everyone. Peace be with you.
