City of the Waters
I heard him before I saw him – a customer who had just come into the sketchy Route 40 Wawa and was
making noises of pain mixed with surprise, like a child who had just scraped his knee after unexpectedly
falling from his bike.
When this man came into my line of vision, he looked from the waist-up like one who spent his life in
the trades industry – barrel-chested, bearded, gruff. Not one to be messed with. (Yes, I know I am
stereotyping.) However, the lower-half of this same customer was clad in hot-pink tight pants covered
in sequins – the kind women wore to the discos and roller derbies of the late-1970s – and stiletto-heeled
boots that made it next to impossible to walk, even in the best of weather conditions. Hence, his little
grunts of pain.
As this man walked near the coffee kiosk, he slipped on the floors that had become somewhat dicey due
to the snow that was falling outside. He went down hard and struggled to get back up, mostly because
of the footwear that provided no traction. Those around him just sort of stared at the floundering body
on the floor.
But then, darting from beyond the Utz potato chips rack came an older African American woman,
dressed in the uniform of one who works at the supermarket down the road. “Sugar, let me help you,”
she says, lifting him up and taking his arm. “Where do you need to go?” she asked, guiding him as one
would a senior citizen using a cane. Although I didn’t hear his response, she was loud enough that her
advice to him made me smile: “Now you know you can’t wear those boots in this weather – what were
you thinking, love?”
During this past week, my mind and prayer-time has brought me back quite often to this scene at Wawa
for a number of reasons: the fact that I didn’t help the man off the floor; the ways in which I was so
quick to judge him based on his appearance; and perhaps most significantly, I have been pondering the
unflinching willingness of the supermarket cashier to enter the world of humiliation and pain faced by
the man wearing the stiletto heels.
She was willing to leave the circle.
Jesus is asking us the very same question through our Scriptures today: are we willing to do the same?
Should we really be okay with letting others live outside our circle?
Those two cities we hear mentioned in the First Reading and the Gospel – Zebulun and Naphtali? They
were in an area of Galilee that was filled with outsiders – those who were Gentiles; foreigners. They
didn’t practice the dominant Jewish religion or follow all the rules and laws of faith. So they lived
outside the circle of faith which, by the way, is what “Galilee” means – the Circle District.
So anyone who practiced his or her faith wouldn’t be caught dead in this region of northern Galilee,
especially Zebulun and Naphtali – “the region of darkness,” as Isaiah says.
And did you notice? IT’S THE FIRST PLACE JESUS WENT TO BEGIN HIS MINISTRY. Jesus went to the
outsiders. And it was those very outsiders whom he called and said “Follow me.”
To fishermen who may not have gone to synagogue ever – follow me. To a tax collector who cared
more about money than God the Father – follow me. And to women who made a living as objects to be
used by others – follow me.
Of course Christ came to remind His own people of faith that they were live the covenant they have
been given by God. But He also came to reach those who never heard that God the Father loves them –
truly loves them, even in their sinfulness and brokenness.
So, we as disciples – we who stay in the Circle of faith, so to speak – must ask ourselves: who among us
are living in Zebulun and Naphtali today? Who are always on the outside, believing that they no longer
can sit with us in these very pews or belong in the Church? The last time I checked, the word “Catholic”
means: universal, as in “ALL are welcome into the Heart of God.”
Now that does not mean anything goes; live your life however you want. Not at all. That’s hogwash.
God has commandments He calls us to live and laws that help one lead a life of righteousness, virtue and
holiness. They are vital to entering the Narrow Gate … for our own good.
But let’s be honest: no one will even look for the narrow gate if he or she first isn’t loved into the circle.
When Jesus walked into those outsider towns, he didn’t first yell out: “Hey, listen up: The first
Commandment states …” or “the dogma proclaims that one must first …”
What did he do? He saw them and went to them. He loved them. He walked outside the circle to the
outsiders and he let them know they were beloved by Him. And then, gradually, when they followed
more closely – entered a deeper relationship with Jesus – THEN they could hear the loving advice:
“Repent for the Kingdom is now here.”
If we first love those who are outside the circle, then God can be God and begin to work on their hearts
and lives, calling them into deeper relationship with Him and with the Church.
We don’t always do a great job with that as Church, but it doesn’t mean we stop trying. We must do it
together as the “institutional” church, of course. There are still far too many who think they don’t
belong here because of the choices they’ve made or the sins they’ve committed. Nothing could be
further from the truth. They are wanted here because they can find healing and hope and mercy here.
They can find Him here – in our Sacraments and in each other. It’s why we are here: because it is what
we ourselves have found.
At the same time, let us never forget that each of us is tasked with being missionary disciples – as were
the first disciples -- going outside the circle to reach those whose hearts are broken and whose lives are
a mess. We are called to bring them back to Jesus, back to a Love that heals and forgives; a love that
sees and respects.
It’s the very thing a supermarket cashier showed me by lifting-up a man found struggling on a dirty, wet
convenience store floor wearing hot pants and high-heeled boots. She loved him in his brokenness and
pain, and wasn’t afraid to go there.
Nor should we – as Church and as individual disciples in love with Jesus Christ. We lift up. We open
doors. We walk with. We listen. We speak the Truth in love and leave the judging to God.
That’s going outside the Circle District.