Mary: Model Of Discipleship

The importance of Mary in the Catholic Tradition is clearly demonstrated in the many prayers, devotions, feast days, titles and artworks in her honour. To be upfront I have to admit I don’t have a deep devotion to Mary; rather I am often guilty of ignoring her and seem to shy away from the various devotions to Mary. So, I decided to spend some time during the month of May reflecting on my relationship with Mary. I realised that my avoidance of the Marian devotions and some of the language used to describe her was not a rejection of Mary; but in fact I had a deep respect and love for this strong women who is a universal model of discipleship.

Like many cradle Catholics, devotion to Mary is instilled in my being as a Catholic. Like a little boy running to his mother when in trouble, I find myself praying with Mary when I am in great need or crisis. I recite the Hail Mary and ask her for help in times of desperation; she is the mother who intercedes for me. When all is said and done, she is part of my family, even if I she is often ignored.

My parents modelled a deep devotion to Mary. As a child I always had a picture of Mary in my bedroom, along with a crucifix. The statue of Mary took prominent place in the living room and on significant occasions, such as liturgical feast days and the month of May, there was always a candle burning in her honour. The muttering of the words of the rosary and the visual of beads in hand were part of the familiar in our household.

I have childhood memories of my parents praying the rosary, sometimes chanting it with confident voices as they sat in the living room or on the front veranda, much to the embarrassment of my teenage self. My father prayed the rosary every day and went nowhere without his beads. There were a few years where my parents decided the whole family would pray the rosary together during the month of May. We all began, rather reluctantly, lighting a candle before the statue of Mary in our living room and getting on our knees to recite the rosary. My parents would begin and soon enough one of us would begin with the giggles, which of course became contagious. As my parents attempted to continue the rosary, we were given stern looks to behave and eventually, one by one, expelled from the living room. Soon enough my siblings and I would be on the veranda with childhood fits of laughter while my parents continued to pray the rosary themselves. To my parents’ credit this routine went on for a few days before they would give up and pray the rosary together leaving us free to play. This routine was repeated for a few years before my parents gave up totally. However, they continued the devotion together and witnessed to my siblings and I the importance of prayer, religion and devotion to Mary. I look back on these experiences with a smile.

I hand the opportunity to reflect on the formative nature of this childhood ritual many years later when I was in Jerusalem, long after my parents had passed away. Late one afternoon I went into the Franciscan Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre with the intention of spending some time in silent prayer. I found myself in the chapel alone enjoying the prayerful silence. As I sat there a group of Palestinian women shuffled into the chapel with shopping bags full of various market groceries in hand. They laid down their burdens and sat in a group and my immediate reaction was to lament the loss of my solitude. The women, obviously tired from the shopping, took out their rosary beads and began chanting the rosary in Arabic. I found myself quietly listening to the familiar rhythm of their prayer with a sense of peace and contentment, and enjoyed being part of their prayer if only through presence. I remember thanking God for this “disruption” and the memory of my parents chanting the rosary long ago; I felt deeply connected and enjoyed participating in their pause from what I imagined was a busy day, to pray the rosary together. I have to admit that while the rosary is not a key part of my prayer life as an adult, it remains a treasured practice when I find myself praying the rosary with others.

The Church honours Mary as the first disciple, first among the saints. Too often many Catholics focus excessively on her virginity, as if her greatness is born of what she didn’t do. I see Mary as a strong woman of faith who could respond to God with eyes wide open even if she didn’t understand fully the consequences; her trust was unfailing.

Her power as a human example of faithfulness can only be realised when we understand who she was as a human being like us. Mary comes from a particular social, cultural and geographical context: she was a first century faithful Jewish woman from Palestine. Losing sight of this important fact takes away from Mary’s humanity. As a faithful Jewish woman, she would have known the psalms and prayed the Jewish rituals, and along with Joseph modelled a strong faith in God for Jesus as he grew. This was her faithful “Yes” lived each day of her life. I imagine Mary was hospitable, righteous and full of gratitude. As I reflect on her willingness to accept God’s will at the Annunciation I am in awe of her courage, strength and assertive sense of self. This is a woman ready to take on the establishment in order to do God’s will and stand her ground. This is a woman I want to relate to and honour.

We can look at the Church’s understanding of Mary by highlighting four key characteristics of Mary.1 The four characteristics help me appreciate Mary as a model for my life and spirituality.

1. Mary is a person who is attentive
Mary notices the activity of God in her life and ponders on both her experience and the Scriptures. Hence when the angel visits her for the annunciation, she is ready to respond positively to the “will of God”. Mary is awake and in tune with God and the world around her. This is beautifully evident in her words of praise in the Magnificat.

2. Mary is a person of prayer
Mary would have prayed the psalms and other Jewish prayers and participated in the Jewish rituals of her day. Her prayerfulness is evident in her wonderful exclamation of gratitude when she meets Elizabeth. This prayer, the Magnificat, shows us her prayerfulness as well as her trust and faith in a God with whom she has so clearly nurtured a relationship.

3. Mary is faithful
Not only does Mary listen prayerfully to what God wants of her, she responds with a faithful “YES!” This yes is not based on certainty but a trust that with God all things shall be well. She believes in a God who is just, compassionate and merciful. Her faith in God means she can offer her life in the service of God’s plan, whatever the consequences. And this brings her great joy, even with the pain and sorrow.

4. Mary is the virgin-mother
This communicates more about God than Mary. God does great things, miraculous things! With God anything is possible. In participation with the Holy Spirit Mary’s life is fruitful. We too share in the same promise and our lives, lived in participation with the Holy Spirit will be fruitful.

It is Mary’s faithfulness, prayerfulness and attentiveness that makes her ready for her role in salvation. She willingly and actively participates in God’s plan as it is revealed to her. Her response is the beautiful and powerful canticle Mary prays in the presence of Elizabeth (the Magnificat in Luke 1:46-55), reminiscent of Hannah’s canticle (1 Samuel 2:1-10). I love this canticle, it draws me into relationship with Mary and the long line of people who have participated in God’s will throughout the Old Testament to our modern time. Mary reminds us to praise God always because God does great things. The God Mary praises is a liberator and protector, one who constantly shows mercy and favour. Just as God showed favour to Mary, God shows favour to all people. Mary is truly a model in discipleship.

Reflecting on my relationship with Mary, it is these characteristics that draw me to her. In contrast, the language of virginity, purity, chaste and spotless, alienates me from Mary. I am not disputing the validity of these qualities; rather admitting that if Mary is to be a model of discipleship for me then my focus is on her attentiveness, prayerfulness and faithfulness, these qualities make her the powerful figure she is today.

I see a gentle strength in Mary, far from the passive woman I grew up with. Her prayerful attentiveness and faith in God give her the strength and courage to say yes to God’s will and live that choice with humility and joy. She nurtures Jesus into adulthood, asserts herself when needed, as in Cana, is a witness at the crucifixion, and is present with the disciples in prayer. She is in sharp contrast to some of the qualities of leadership we see rising today in our world, qualities of ego, arrogance and self-interest. Mary models a spirit of humility, prayerful presence and trust in herself, others and God. She is in solidarity with the poor, oppressed and marginalised.

It is these characteristics that make her so universal, crossing the boundaries of geography, culture and time. She is truly graced by God – Mother of God, Mother of us all, always willing to intercede on our behalf. Hence, I can engage with Mary who invites me into relationship with God. Identifying with her humanity, she becomes a more tangible model of discipleship, teaching me the importance of being attentive, faithful and prayerful. In unity with Mary I can move towards greater gratitude, humility and an ability to act with the courage of conviction, trusting in God’s promises.

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1. These four key characteristics were presented in an article I read many years ago. Unfortunately, I have lost the article along with the title and author. I apologise for the lack of details in acknowledging this author.

Christmas with Saint Joseph

This is a reflection I wrote on 23 December 2019. 

I have recently uprooted my life and moved to Ireland. At 51 years of age an exciting and very challenging experience as I make efforts to find work, connect with communities and “create a life” for myself in Ireland. Part of this process is finding a parish community to connect with. And so this week, on the fourth Sunday of Advent, I went to St Joseph’s Church for Mass.

This year the Sunday Advent gospel texts come from Matthew. Matthew’s gospel tells the Christmas story from Joseph’s perspective. Matthew begins his gospel by going through the genealogy of Joseph and Jesus. We then hear this Sunday’s gospel reading about Joseph’s dream. Joseph’s ancestors are in the line of David, the great King. Straight away Jesus is born into royalty, so to speak. But Matthew also highlights that Jesus’ ancestors also have a few gentiles in the mix. At the very start of this story of Jesus is inclusivity; a theme running through the Gospels. So we get to the point of this fourth Sunday of Advent reading, Joseph has to decide to take Mary as his wife. This is a controversy because Mary is found to be with child.

I have to admit I was a little disappointed when the priest decided to dedicate his homily to Mary, the annunciation and the visitation after hearing Matthew’s account of Joseph taking Mary for his wife. Joseph often ends up in the background as Mary and Jesus take the limelight. The other thing we often do that diminishes the Christmas story is sanitise it, make it nice and ignore most of the real messy stuff. Let’s focus on Joseph, this faithful man.

“…before they came to live together [Mary] was found to be with child…” Lets take that in for a moment. In the first century patriarchal society of Israel/Palestine this woman was found to be pregnant. Now we know why because Matthew tells us it was “through the Holy Spirit”. The people of that small village didn’t know why, they only had a way-out-there explanation from Mary, if that. So here we are, before the Christmas story even gets underway, with a real and dangerous controversy. Poor Joseph has to decide to call off the marriage. Who wants a partner who has been cheating from the very beginning?

https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/541346817690167431/

Now Joseph has an option here to disgrace Mary. You can imagine the alternative scene of Joseph dragging Mary out in front of family and friends and accusing her of cheating, she is pregnant after all. The consequence is life-threatening for Mary with the possibility of stoning. And this would be done by any good man; it is Joseph’s right and a matter of honour. But Joseph decided to do it “informally”, quietly. Of course Mary would suffer but not as much. Within the first few lines of the story we have Joseph showing his compassion and gentleness. He disregards the possibility of gossip and considers the needs of the other, in this case Mary. He is not overwhelmed by his need for social standing, honour, retribution. He is level-headed and discerning. An example to us all.

But Joseph then goes one step further. After a dream he decides to marry Mary. Joseph completely saves Mary from disgrace and the threat that comes with it. How many of us would do such a thing in response to a dream? I suspect a few of his family members may have advised him against this. Joseph redefines being a man of “honour”. He willingly puts himself into Mary’s mess even though he had a way out. He could have walked away with the respect of the community.

So the incarnation, birth of Jesus, God made man; enters history because of this man who has honour, compassion, kindness, integrity and a deep faith. (And Mary with her deep faith.) It is quite a challenge and takes a certain strength to discern that God’s will might be different to what the social and religious norms suggest. Joseph doesn’t abandon Mary, he sees something happening here, he digs deep and discerns the right action. He discerns God’s will. What he will eventually find out is that this mess and controversy is in fact from God and a blessing. He goes with his gut feeling or intuition or deep inner voice, call it what you will, and we all benefit.

Joseph gives us an example of being a good man, healthy masculinity if you will. A good man has honour, care for others, compassion, contemplative listening (he listened to his dream), discernment, strength in gentleness and a healthy belief in himself, integrity.

As we end chapter 1 of Matthew’s gospel Jesus is born and named. Emmanuel (God-is-with-us) in Jesus had a wonderful role-model in Joseph. I can imagine Joseph teaching Jesus how to be a person of faith, compassion, honour and integrity. If only all men had Joseph as a role-model, what sort of world would we be living in?

So this Christmas lets remember Joseph and his role in this wonderful Story, usually forgotten or overshadowed but crucial.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

The Transfiguration: We Are Beloved of God

This was a reflection written for the Vine and Fig community for the Second Sunday of Lent (8 March 2020). 

Flickr: Fr Lawrence Lew O.P., Transfiguration

I love the story of the Transfiguration. It always struck me as a story of power – Jesus shown in splendid glory. However, as I read and reflect on the Scripture text now during Lent, I see something quite different. Here is a story of self-revelation and the vulnerability that comes along with it. During Lent what does the Transfiguration say to us about discipleship? And what does it say to us as queer Catholics taught to see ourselves as abhorrent? For me, it’s a story of liberation. I find myself focusing on three aspects of the story: Jesus’ self-revelation, the presence of Moses and Elijah and God’s announcement “This is my son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased…”.

Jesus leads Peter, James and John up the mountain and there he reveals himself, his face “shone like the sun” and his cloths were “dazzling white”. We can only imagine what the disciples saw as Jesus gives them a glimpse of his true self, his authentic self. Jesus’ action was a profound statement of intimacy; his love and friendship with these three disciples must have been deep. I must confess I rarely open up to such a degree to let others in, it is a challenge to be authentic with others. I suspect this is some of the damage of homophobia in my life.

As Jesus is shining bright, Moses and Elijah appear and speak to him. Moses and Elijah are giant figures in this great story that is the bible. Moses is the law-giver and the great liberator. Through Moses, God is revealed as the liberator who leads Israel out of slavery and into freedom. Elijah is the great prophet, reminding us of our call to covenant, to grow in our relationship with God. In one of my favourite stories Elijah has an encounter with God on a mountain where God is revealed in the “sheer silence”, such is the gentleness of God. Moses and Elijah represent, for me, the God of liberation and gentleness inviting me into relationship, freely and quietly. And a relationship invites us, maybe even demands us, to reveal our true selves, let the other in. Here I am warts and all.

Then we have those magnificent and powerful words as the cloud descends on them all, “This is my son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” The same is true for you and I. The statement, if believed, is transformative. What would the world be like if we all knew with all our hearts, and believed, that we are beloved of God. Spend some time reflecting on these words, as if God is talking about you; I suspect the reality of this statement is a challenge for any of us to fully comprehend and believe. It is God’s radical love. “I am a beloved son/daughter of God.” It is a liberating truth! As a baptised person I can say with all truth “I am beloved of God”. Unfortunately, we don’t quite believe it. To be like Christ is to fully believe it. I suspect it will be a lifelong process, for me, to come to believe fully that I am loved by God and allow this truth to transform me, my relationship with God and my relationship with others.

Jesus knew with all his being that he was the beloved son in whom God was pleased. I believe it was this belief that empowered Jesus to teach with authority, heal others and show God’s radical love through his life and eventually his crucifixion. We need that level of commitment from Jesus and yet we are still not convinced. Can God really love me?

As disciples we are invited to ponder this truth. It’s a truth that LGBTQ Catholics in particular were/are denied. It angers me, I must admit, that we received the message that we were misfits, abhorrent, hated by God by the very institution that is commissioned to teach us that we are radically and unconditionally loved by God. But truth prevails.

So, as I read the story of the transfiguration this Lent, I’m reminded of God’s invitation, and for many of us a challenging invitation, to take off our masks one at a time and reveal who we are to ourselves, before a God who loves us, and to others. The task of self-revelation (coming out if you will) can often be a slow and painful process of healing. It is a process of encountering Christ in the very place I was told I couldn’t find Him; in myself. I have come to know, ever so partially, that I am a beloved son of God. I am on that mountain with Peter, James and John, and with Moses and Elijah, and as I see Jesus transfigure before me, he holds up a mirror reminding me that I am also a beloved son of God.

I guess for many of us who are LGBT Catholic this self-revelation can be equated with our coming out. We travel up the mountain to our own transfiguration. Each story is unique and can often be a long process. Self-revelation, or coming out, is a collection of stories often spanning years, full of events and conversations, one step at a time as we peel the masks off. Some masks come off easily and others are painful paschal experiences of death and resurrection. But as I take off each mask, I reveal more of what is Christ-like within me and move more deeply into intimate relationship with God, myself and others. I allow God to be in control and to transform me. This is not done alone and we need the support of community. Who are the people I invite up the mountain with me? Who are the people I can truly be myself with?

My hope is that all LGBTQ people who have felt, even for a short time, less than the other, can come to see themselves fully as beloved of God. But this needs community, we can only go so far alone. One person’s willingness to be vulnerable and take off a mask inspires another to do the same. My liberation is your liberation; and yours is mine. Healthy communities, healthy Church ministry, celebrates this truth of being loved by God and encourages LGBTQ Catholics to share their story. This will be liberating for the whole Church.

As baptised Catholics we are called to minister to a Church struggling with the LGBTQ story. Our presence is a gift to the Church. We remind the Church of the God who liberated Israel from slavery as we share how God liberates us from homophobia and self-loathing. We remind the Church that like Elijah, we encounter God in the sheer silence, and God calls us into the light and invites us into relationship, whatever that may look like for each of us. We remind the Church that we are beloved sons and daughters of God, who is well pleased with us. In short, we are called to be prophets.
So, as I read the story of the transfiguration of Jesus, I am reading my own transfiguration story and yours. In the face of challenge and rejection, God calls me to reflect the light of Christ as a beloved gay son of God and I believe God is pleased with me and my efforts to respond.

* * * * * * * * * *

Gospel Text: Matthew 17:1–13

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. 

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” And the disciples asked him, “Why, then, do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” He replied, “Elijah is indeed coming and will restore all things; but I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but they did to him whatever they pleased. So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” Then the disciples understood that he was speaking to them about John the Baptist.

Pondering The Passion

This was a reflection written for the Vine and Fig community for Good Friday (10 April 2020). 

The passion narrative, the suffering and death of Jesus, is a central story in our Christian tradition. I offer here some reflections from my pondering on this narrative, it is not a comprehensive reflection nor conclusive; rather a point in the pondering process I suspect will be lifelong. As I offer my own thoughts, I invite you to share yours, and hopefully we can ponder such a central event in our faith together and learn from each other.

Being a cradle Catholic, I was exposed to the passion of Jesus from my earliest days, it permeates all aspects of our Catholic culture. Artwork, statues, songs, rituals etc. all form us in this Catholic Tradition. The passion of Jesus is central to our identity and faith.

My own childhood memories of Good Friday are of processions, Church services, prayer, lit candles, fasting and a mother barefoot as a form of penance. Long before I was old enough to understand the story and its significance, I was exposed to it with all its gruesome imagery of suffering and death. Like many Christians, the crucifixion is a significant part of my own spirituality and sitting before a crucifix in prayer can be a powerful experience. Such a familiar story, it can often be a challenge to read the narrative and experience Good Friday with fresh eyes.

One way of coming to the narrative with fresh eyes is to ponder it, look at the story from various perspectives; visualise the narrative and walk around the scene, looking from different angles. Allow the story to engage our experience. Some helpful questions might be:

• What do I learn about Jesus and about God?
• What is my image/understanding of God and how does this influence my reading?
• Does God punish us? Does God demand retribution for our sins?
• Why did Jesus have to suffer?
• Why do we experience suffering?
• What is my understanding of “being saved”?
• What in my life experience helps me engage with the passion of Jesus? With the various characters and events?
• How does the passion narrative help me understand the human experience?
• What is it exactly that I believe?

Let me attempt to share some of my own insights, incomplete as they are.

THE PASSION AS HUMAN EXPERIENCE

First and foremost, the passion narrative is part of a wider story; namely the birth, life, teachings, death and resurrection of Jesus; and part of the whole story of salvation, the Bible. I believe the whole story reveals Jesus as redeemer and saver. I don’t believe that Jesus came just to die and it is only his death that is redemptive. Redemption is intertwined with the whole life of Jesus. I believe that God became human in Jesus, that God sent Jesus to proclaim the Good News, to reveal God to us. This mission of Jesus is redemptive.

I confess that I don’t believe that God sent Jesus to die for our sins. That would mean that God demands retribution. This is not the God of Hosea or the prodigal son or many of the bible texts that speak of God as all loving, “slow to anger and rich in mercy” as the psalmist asserts. God sent Jesus to reveal God to us, and Jesus reveals a God who is all inclusive with unconditional love and a desire for relationship with each one of us.

Hence, I see the passion of Jesus as a consequence of his mission. Love, inclusion, forgiveness freely given are dangerous messages that many reject. Jesus’ commitment to his mission led to conflict with “the authorities” and eventually to his passion and death. While the life and death of Jesus was unique and redemptive of itself, it is also a familiar human dynamic. Think of people such as Martin Luther King and Oscar Romero, to name just two, who were so committed to their mission, they accepted the danger and continued to speak the truth even to the point of death. They too were killed because, like Jesus, their message was a radical truth that many could not accept. Their deaths, contribute to the redemption of the world because they continue the mission of Jesus. Jesus’ death reminds us that salvation needs sacrifice.

Tolkien captured this human dynamic in his classic tale Lord of the Rings. Frodo becomes the Christ figure who takes on the quest to save “middle earth” from evil. He eventually comes to realise that his quest will lead to death, it is a sacrifice he is willing to make for others. Interestingly Frodo is saved. Sacrifice and death are never the end, life always overcomes death.

The question that I am left with is why does salvation need sacrifice or more precisely why do we suffer. I have no adequate answer, just the awareness that suffering is a part of the experience of every living thing, we humans are no exception. To live, to love is to suffer. But while I have no answer, I reject the idea that God gives us suffering to atone for our sins. I reject the notion that God punishes and wants us to suffer as retribution. This conviction came into focus recently when I contributed to an online post, and ensuing discussion, claiming that the coronavirus was God’s punishment for the sins of the world — the sins of accepting gay people, abortion, free sex and so on. Interestingly, these posts never claim God punishes the sin of capitalism, consumerism, the arms race, war and violence.

One thing the crucifixion teaches me is that God is repulsed by suffering in all its forms. But the reality is that we suffer and we die, and many die violent deaths because of the actions of others. Buddhism teaches that suffering comes from desire, or want. I suspect that we suffer because we want and are rarely satisfied. Based on my very limited understanding of Rene Girard, and probably not doing him justice; there is suffering because our human understanding cannot comprehend a God who freely and willingly forgives us without demanding retribution, so we demand retribution and we look for scapegoats to sacrifice. Unfortunately, these scapegoats are often people from marginalised groups, as history demonstrates: the adulterous woman they wanted to stone, the pogroms against the Jews, genocide against the Armenians in Turkey or the Tutsi in Rwanda, gay people, the poor, the migrant, the one that doesn’t conform, or simply the other. The passion of Jesus, if we truly believe, should convince us that scapegoating is not necessary. However, we crucify Jesus, we burn witches, commit genocide, “stone the sinner”, we demonise the other. In short, we crucify Christ each day.

PASSION AS ACCOMPANIMENT

I believe that God became human in Jesus, entered into the human experience, proclaimed a radical truth that the “authorities” rejected. Having rejected Jesus, the “authorities” used him as a scapegoat and crucified him. Jesus took on the sins of the world and allowed the dynamic to play out rather than deny the truth he preached. As I read the passion narrative, I see a God who chooses to accompany me in my life. A God who so loved the world that God became human even to death. In every aspect of my life I trust that Jesus walks with me; and never am I so sure of this, or comforted by this, as in times of trial and suffering. When I weep, God weeps with me; when I feel vulnerable and rejected, a vulnerable and rejected God sits with me. When I rage against a perceived injustice broken hearted, God is right there. Not as a bystander but knowing my pain and holding my hand. I have to admit there a plenty of times I want to give Jesus a kick and argue for him to do something, take away the pain, pulls us out of this. But Jesus just gives me a knowing and loving smile. The tradition of accompaniment is an intimate relationship of healing, of being present to the other. It reminds us that we are good and worthwhile in our humanness. God desires relationship with us, welcomes us into a loving embrace as Jesus stretches out his arms. I have saved you; you are mine. And all we need to do is open our arms and enter into that embrace.

The disciples mostly disappeared, Peter denied knowing Jesus, Thomas doubted. And Jesus forgave them. The challenge the disciples faced was accepting that forgiveness. In all our human frailty and vulnerability Jesus invites us to be fully human, with all that this entails. The God who loved us into being and became one of us out of love, invites us to be fully human and to celebrate our humanity. For when the suffering is done, when the hate is over, when the discrimination and scapegoating has ceased, we will understand that life is greater than all the suffering and hate and death. The last word is LIFE.