2015
Seeing as Jesus Sees
Written by Setrak Haroutounian on Monday of the Second Week of Lent
Today’s Gospel reading from St. Luke (6:36-38) makes me uncomfortable, because I stink at this stuff. Right before this passage we get the famous Golden Rule and “love thine enemies” verses we know so well. Jesus then calls us to be compassionate, nonjudgmental givers and forgivers, “because the standard you use will be the standard used for you.” And then in verse 46, he tells us that it does no good to profess faith if we don’t live it. This is some serious language that Jesus is putting before us. He doesn’t ask us to believe that everything humans do is acceptable or good, but to consider our own selves when we would perhaps be quick to judge out of arrogance or blindness – when we might jump to conclusions or make assumptions.
I’ve discovered that the sinner in me is amazingly terrible at seeing life through another’s eyes. To live the way Jesus seems to be challenging us to, we have to see each other through this same lens: we are all created by God, loved and redeemed by Jesus. Curious, right? To see each other as the diverse, individual, unique, beloved creation that we each are, we have to focus on a common identity.
“Identity” has become a popular idea in the social and academic world, and people are challenged to define how they see themselves, or “identify,” while being sensitive to the identities others choose for themselves. There’s something noble about this movement, but Jesus seems to point to something a little different than this self-discerning. He is given his identity from the Father: “You are my beloved Son,” and he in-turn gives us our identity: children of God, light of the world, salt of the earth. Jesus scandalously looks past human differences because he uses a lens that recognizes the true, authentic identity of everyone – each person for whom he died and rose.
Today, ask yourself these hard-hitting questions: Will I choose to see every person I encounter today the way Jesus sees them? Will I see myself the way Jesus sees me? Then, go wrestle with your answers all day long.
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Setrak Haroutounian
Setrak is a half-Armenian, half-Southern guy who somehow ended up in frosty Michigan. He’s a sinner, coffee drinker, and a master’s student studying Education Leadership and Policy, graduating in 2015.
Email: setrakh@umich.edu
2015
Keep My Eyes to Serve
Written by Christine Convery on the Second Sunday of Lent
Two years ago, on my senior alternative spring break trip to Wheeling, WV, my group spent a day walking part of the Warrior Trail in Green County, PA. As we painted yellow circles to mark the 5,000 year old trail first cut by Native Americans, we got to see up close the mountain resources that have resulted in economic boom and bust for this region of the country. Old coal plants, slurry pools, and fracking sites interrupted the otherwise pristine natural setting, along with a few isolated homes and farms. On this Appalachian trail, I had a mountain-top experience: an encounter with a God of the rural poor proclaiming “These are my beloved people. Listen to them.”
The trip down from the mountain becomes the hard part. Like Peter in the story of the transfiguration, I often have a short-lived and misdirected enthusiasm after such experiences and I want to stay on the mountain top forever. But coming home, from service or retreat or an enlightening encounter, is when I get to answer God’s call. How can I sustain an active and joyful spiritual life? How do I serve God and others in the mundane tasks of graduate school? Where do I see the face of God revealed to me on the streets of Ann Arbor? What does it mean to be transfigured? To be resurrected from the dead?
In my life today, I am faced with decisions and uncertainty about career paths and relationships and life plans. I am finished with ASB trips; instead I have the chance to serve in my own neighborhood and my own community. I don’t have an Appalachian vista inspiring me to open up to God’s call, but I do have the transformative presence of Christ in the Eucharist and in my neighbors. There is no audible voice of God, but today I hear Christ’s message and my prayer in the words of Mumford & Sons: “Keep the earth below my feet…Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn.”
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEJ-v3n0qkw]
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Christine Convery
Christine is a master’s student in the University of Michigan’s School of Public Health. She served as the undergraduate intern for retreats at St. Mary Student Parish for the 2012-13 academic year and graduated from U of M in 2013.
Email: converyc@umich.edu