November 2022
"Feeling Lucky?"
November 6, 2022
All Saints Sunday; based on Luke 6:20-26 (text at end of post)
Back in 2008, I was working as executive director of The Aliveness Project, a Minneapolis community center for people living with HIV/AIDS. That July I decided to attend the International AIDS Conference in Mexico City. My husband Charlie came with me. And even though he wasn’t registered, we hoped he could attend some of the events.
The first night, there was an opening ceremony at a soccer stadium. Former US President Bill Clinton and South African President Nelson Mandela were the keynote speakers. We took a taxi to the stadium. Just as we got out of the car, Charlie realized he didn’t have his wallet. So he ran after the taxi. And lucky for him, it stopped, and he found it.
But that wasn’t the only lucky thing that happened. When we got in line and finally reached the gate, I asked the guard if my friend could come in with me. He frowned and said that he doubted it because of the high security related to the special guests. But he said he would check. And asked us to wait.
And that’s when we got lucky again. Because suddenly it started not just raining, but pouring—with hundreds of people getting soaked. And no one was prepared. Or knew what to do.
Suddenly the guard shrugged and waved us on—shouting for us to run up the steps to the stadium entrance.
Probably not something that would happen today.
And that’s how Charlie got in with me. Where we saw an amazing and inspiring program. One that we will never forget.
You could say we were very lucky that it all turned out so well. With a double blessing.
When was the last time something lucky like that happened to you?
It’s funny how when things like that happen in life, we humans often want to ascribe meaning to it. If something doesn’t go as planned, you feel unlucky, maybe even cursed. If something then turns out better than expected, we say, “my prayers have been answered!” You feel lucky—even blessed by God.
Our Gospel lesson talks about that. This passage is Luke’s version of the Beatitudes. The word “beatitude” comes from a word in the Latin version of this text, which could be translated as “blessed” or “happy” or “lucky.”
Traditionally, the Church has taught us—especially the poor and oppressed—that if you just endure your current unfortunate situation or unlucky fate, then someday you will go to heaven. And God will bless you and make up for every bad thing that happened to you in this life.
But that’s not the promise Jesus makes here. Instead, Jesus promises to bless the unlucky people of our world now. The unlucky people who are completely destitute. The unlucky people with no food for their children. The unlucky people who aren’t just trying to get into a stadium out of the rain, but looking for shelter from all sorts of weather.
The unlucky people who, instead of listening to impressive speeches by celebrities, have to hear hate speech or see their cemetery vandalized because of their faith or the country they come from.
For all those unlucky people, Jesus offers a new and radical vision. A vision that opens our eyes to how God sees them. A vision where the beatitudes aren’t just nice words that tell us how we ought to pity poor people. But a prophetic vision that is “performative”—a fancy theological word for when the speaking of a blessing makes it real. Not merely promising something. But making the promise happen.
That’s the kind of radical blessing Jesus gives. Which is also radical because of who is blessed.
For Jesus blesses the very people the world sees as unlucky losers. People in pain. People in desperate situations. People overcome with grief or depression. People crossing borders seeking a safe home, who get put on buses to unknown destinations.
These are the people Jesus calls blessed. And Jesus doesn’t just give them a simple benediction like the one I say at the end of each worship service.
Instead, Jesus lavishes on them unbelievable blessings. Blessings that have nothing to do with luck. And everything to do with God’s grace. And the Kingdom of God, here and now.
In story after story in the Bible, there is a theology of divine providence that flies in the face of our human tendency to describe our lives in terms of good and bad luck. We Lutherans believe that we are born, live and die because of God’s abiding love for us. That our entire being is linked to God’s desire and intention that we live grace-filled lives.
Some Christians think of providence in terms of a type of predestination. That God pre-ordains who will have a happy, successful life and who will face the trials of Job. But I believe providence can only really be seen in the rearview mirror, never through the windshield of your life.
In other words, it can be very difficult to see God’s hand working in my present reality, and especially what lies in the road ahead. But when I look behind me, I see how God’s love has been with me even during the most difficult days of pain and loss.
As Christians, we believe there is a reason for living. That God is (in Paul Tillich’s words) the “ground of being”—the creator of who we have been, of who we are, and who we will be. The source of all that is good and loving.
We also believe that life is more than a crap shoot. More than a coin toss. More than a billion-dollar lottery.
We believe that our world and lives are meant to mean something. Even in the days before another divisive election, whose results are unpredictable. Even during dark times when we may find ourselves doubting that the arc of the universe is really bending towards justice.
Perhaps that’s what the beatitudes are all about. Maybe they are meant to help us see the world the way God sees it. It makes me wonder, if you and I rewrote the beatitudes today, what might they sound like? Maybe something like this:
Blessed are you immigrants, for you will be granted safe sanctuary. Blessed are you homeless, for you will find shelter and plenty of food. Blessed are you who live with anxiety, for you shall receive peace of mind.
Blessed are you who relapse into drinking or drug use, for you will rediscover sobriety. Blessed are you sex workers, for you shall be surprised by love.
Blessed are you elderly who live with loneliness and pain, for you will experience community. Blessed are you Jewish people who face antisemitism and threats in our country today, for you shall be called God’s chosen people.
Blessed are you who grieve the loss of a loved one, for you will find comfort. Blessed are you queer folk when Christian politicians condemn you and pass all sorts of laws against you. Rejoice in that day and dance gaily, for you are truly welcome here.
I could go on. Together, we could write many more beatitudes for our modern lives. With that uncomfortable tension between what once was, what is today, and what could and should be tomorrow.
Where believers like you and me are called to make the Kingdom of God happen in our sometimes-unlucky lives and in this oftentimes cruel world.
Where God gathers all of us together around this table as blessed saints, whether we feel lucky or not.
And where Jesus also calls you to be a blessing to those who so desperately need exactly that. Amen.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
GOSPEL READING: Luke 6:20-26
Then Jesus looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”
The first night, there was an opening ceremony at a soccer stadium. Former US President Bill Clinton and South African President Nelson Mandela were the keynote speakers. We took a taxi to the stadium. Just as we got out of the car, Charlie realized he didn’t have his wallet. So he ran after the taxi. And lucky for him, it stopped, and he found it.
But that wasn’t the only lucky thing that happened. When we got in line and finally reached the gate, I asked the guard if my friend could come in with me. He frowned and said that he doubted it because of the high security related to the special guests. But he said he would check. And asked us to wait.
And that’s when we got lucky again. Because suddenly it started not just raining, but pouring—with hundreds of people getting soaked. And no one was prepared. Or knew what to do.
Suddenly the guard shrugged and waved us on—shouting for us to run up the steps to the stadium entrance.
Probably not something that would happen today.
And that’s how Charlie got in with me. Where we saw an amazing and inspiring program. One that we will never forget.
You could say we were very lucky that it all turned out so well. With a double blessing.
When was the last time something lucky like that happened to you?
It’s funny how when things like that happen in life, we humans often want to ascribe meaning to it. If something doesn’t go as planned, you feel unlucky, maybe even cursed. If something then turns out better than expected, we say, “my prayers have been answered!” You feel lucky—even blessed by God.
Our Gospel lesson talks about that. This passage is Luke’s version of the Beatitudes. The word “beatitude” comes from a word in the Latin version of this text, which could be translated as “blessed” or “happy” or “lucky.”
Traditionally, the Church has taught us—especially the poor and oppressed—that if you just endure your current unfortunate situation or unlucky fate, then someday you will go to heaven. And God will bless you and make up for every bad thing that happened to you in this life.
But that’s not the promise Jesus makes here. Instead, Jesus promises to bless the unlucky people of our world now. The unlucky people who are completely destitute. The unlucky people with no food for their children. The unlucky people who aren’t just trying to get into a stadium out of the rain, but looking for shelter from all sorts of weather.
The unlucky people who, instead of listening to impressive speeches by celebrities, have to hear hate speech or see their cemetery vandalized because of their faith or the country they come from.
For all those unlucky people, Jesus offers a new and radical vision. A vision that opens our eyes to how God sees them. A vision where the beatitudes aren’t just nice words that tell us how we ought to pity poor people. But a prophetic vision that is “performative”—a fancy theological word for when the speaking of a blessing makes it real. Not merely promising something. But making the promise happen.
That’s the kind of radical blessing Jesus gives. Which is also radical because of who is blessed.
For Jesus blesses the very people the world sees as unlucky losers. People in pain. People in desperate situations. People overcome with grief or depression. People crossing borders seeking a safe home, who get put on buses to unknown destinations.
These are the people Jesus calls blessed. And Jesus doesn’t just give them a simple benediction like the one I say at the end of each worship service.
Instead, Jesus lavishes on them unbelievable blessings. Blessings that have nothing to do with luck. And everything to do with God’s grace. And the Kingdom of God, here and now.
In story after story in the Bible, there is a theology of divine providence that flies in the face of our human tendency to describe our lives in terms of good and bad luck. We Lutherans believe that we are born, live and die because of God’s abiding love for us. That our entire being is linked to God’s desire and intention that we live grace-filled lives.
Some Christians think of providence in terms of a type of predestination. That God pre-ordains who will have a happy, successful life and who will face the trials of Job. But I believe providence can only really be seen in the rearview mirror, never through the windshield of your life.
In other words, it can be very difficult to see God’s hand working in my present reality, and especially what lies in the road ahead. But when I look behind me, I see how God’s love has been with me even during the most difficult days of pain and loss.
As Christians, we believe there is a reason for living. That God is (in Paul Tillich’s words) the “ground of being”—the creator of who we have been, of who we are, and who we will be. The source of all that is good and loving.
We also believe that life is more than a crap shoot. More than a coin toss. More than a billion-dollar lottery.
We believe that our world and lives are meant to mean something. Even in the days before another divisive election, whose results are unpredictable. Even during dark times when we may find ourselves doubting that the arc of the universe is really bending towards justice.
Perhaps that’s what the beatitudes are all about. Maybe they are meant to help us see the world the way God sees it. It makes me wonder, if you and I rewrote the beatitudes today, what might they sound like? Maybe something like this:
Blessed are you immigrants, for you will be granted safe sanctuary. Blessed are you homeless, for you will find shelter and plenty of food. Blessed are you who live with anxiety, for you shall receive peace of mind.
Blessed are you who relapse into drinking or drug use, for you will rediscover sobriety. Blessed are you sex workers, for you shall be surprised by love.
Blessed are you elderly who live with loneliness and pain, for you will experience community. Blessed are you Jewish people who face antisemitism and threats in our country today, for you shall be called God’s chosen people.
Blessed are you who grieve the loss of a loved one, for you will find comfort. Blessed are you queer folk when Christian politicians condemn you and pass all sorts of laws against you. Rejoice in that day and dance gaily, for you are truly welcome here.
I could go on. Together, we could write many more beatitudes for our modern lives. With that uncomfortable tension between what once was, what is today, and what could and should be tomorrow.
Where believers like you and me are called to make the Kingdom of God happen in our sometimes-unlucky lives and in this oftentimes cruel world.
Where God gathers all of us together around this table as blessed saints, whether we feel lucky or not.
And where Jesus also calls you to be a blessing to those who so desperately need exactly that. Amen.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
GOSPEL READING: Luke 6:20-26
Then Jesus looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”
"The Kin-dom of God"
Christ the Ruler Sunday; based on Luke 23:33-43 (text at end of post)
November 20 2022
This past Thursday evening, my husband Charlie and I participated in a Zoom call with our Sister Parish community in Guatemala. Their executive director Carrie and Miriam (who both visited us last month) were there. And other members of their community joined us.
Tracey Wilkie, a Native American woman here in Fargo, was invited to lead a discussion on the Doctrine of Discovery, which was created by a Church edict issued by Pope Nicolas V nearly 500 years ago. This doctrine gave European explorers the right to colonize and remove indigenous peoples from their lands. It stated that they could claim any areas not inhabited by Christian people.
In practice, it resulted in the slaughter and genocide of millions of indigenous individuals throughout North and South America. Here in the Upper Midwest, thousands of children were forcibly removed from reservations to mostly-church-run boarding schools. Even today, the Doctrine of Discovery is referred to in legal cases and legislation. Here in the United States, federal laws still restrict the rights of Native Americans, such as their ability to own homes on their tribal lands.
During her discussion, Tracey also shared her personal experiences. Four generations of her family, including Tracey and her son, attended boarding schools, and suffered the effects of poverty on their reservation.
And even though the experiences of indigenous peoples are different in a variety of ways in Latin America, we also know that our friends in Guatemala understand the profound effects and generational trauma of colonization. The women of the Guatemalan church were deeply moved by Tracey’s story and expressed deep compassion and solidarity with her.
As a group we talked about some of the differences between our countries. Such as how here in the United States, there are about 5 million Native Americans—making up only 2 percent of our population.
In contrast Guatemala has 6.5 indigenous people—who make up 44 percent of their inhabitants. This difference is likely due to the millions of indigenous people who simply did not survive in our country.
During our Zoom conversation, I sensed a deep connection between Tracey and the Guatemalan women—something I would call a kindred spirit. Which is amazing when you consider that we are separated by over 2,000 miles.
Kindred is a word we don’t use very much. The dictionary defines “kindred” as people with the “same ancestry”—like kinfolk relatives or kindred tribes. But it’s also used for individuals who share a similar nature or character. For people whose interests or attitudes or experiences are similar to your own.
Kindred spirits can be found in many forms and in almost every type of relationship. Right now, I’d like you to think about someone who once was or is now a kindred spirit for you…. Maybe a close friend or confidant—someone you can tell just about anything. Perhaps a teacher or mentor who had a major impact on your education or life. Or possibly a member of your family or “kin.” Your partner or spouse. Maybe even a pet.
Some of us find kindred spirits in our “chosen family”—people we spend holidays like Thanksgiving with, rather than our biological family.
Kindred and kinfolk are both derived from words meaning family or tribe. After seminary, I spent a year and a half on a Lutheran Youth Encounter team that went to Mexico and Brazil. Our team’s name was “Kindred,” but in Spanish we called ourselves “La Familia de Dios” or “Family of God.”
The theology behind the name was that we Christians are all members of God’s family—kindred to one another, no matter where we live or where we come from. A kin-dom of equals—not people who lord it over one another. I believe that’s the vision Jesus had in mind when he spoke about the Kingdom of God.
In the Gospels, Jesus describes the Kingdom of God 37 different times—often using parables or stories as illustrations. Jesus tells his followers that the Kingdom of God is like leaven in a loaf of bread, like weeds secretly planted in a farmer’s field, like a woman searching for a lost coin, like a shepherd finding his missing sheep.
In each parable, Jesus seeks to open the eyes and minds of his listeners, who only knew life within the context of an oppressive Roman empire. Whose military conquered countries like Israel and installed puppet kings like Herod. Whose cruel governors like Pontius Pilate crushed uprisings and oppressed the weak and powerless. Whose Emperor Caesar was both a tyrant and self-proclaimed god. Who kills anyone who gets in his way.
Today, we know of kings and queens mostly from Disney movies and fairy tales. Most of the real kings and queens are figureheads—in the few countries left with royal families, who in reality have little political power.
Looking back on our history, more than a century has passed since World War II, where Germany had its Hitler, Italy its Mussolini, and Russia its Stalin—cruel dictators who murdered millions. Like them, the kings of Jesus’ time ruled supreme with wealth and cunning, destroying anyone who got in their way. That was the kingdom of Caesar.
Which is why the Kingdom of God as presented by Jesus was such a radical concept for his time. And still is today. In our Gospel lesson, Jesus is a king who hangs dying on a cross, the Roman execution method for anyone who rebelled against the State. By his crucifixion, Jesus becomes the ultimate metaphor for the Kingdom of God. For life reborn in death. For hope risen from defeated hearts. For love given as the ultimate sacrifice.
Today on this last weekend in November, we Christians make room for the Reign of Christ Sunday—also known as Christ the King Sunday. Our Church’s New Year’s Eve. With our liturgical calendar turning its page next week to Advent, when we remember once again that God enters history as the poor baby of an unwed mother. A new dynasty, not born from wealth or treachery, but grace and truth.
Ada María Isasi-Díaz was a Cuban American who served as professor of ethics and theology at Drew University in New Jersey. Ada passed away ten years ago, but is remembered for helping to create a Latin American theology called “mujerista theology.” “Mujer” in Spanish means “woman.” A “mujerista” is every woman who struggles for liberation as a member of her community, with a theology based on the real-life experiences of Latinas, many of whom are indigenous kinfolk.
Ada is also recognized for introducing the term “kin-dom of God’ in place of “kingdom of God” into the theological world. Years ago, while visiting a Franciscan friend named Sister Georgene, Ada heard her use the term “kin-dom of God” for the first time. As Ada reflected on that word, she had a spiritual and intellectual awakening.
For Ada, kin-dom represented a type of liberation empowered by love and embodied in a closely-knit family brought together by God. Kin-dom became the language she used to describe God’s liberating salvation at work in this world for those who suffer at the hands of kings.
Like Ada, the kin-dom of God can open our eyes to what Jesus originally envisioned when he prayed, “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven.”
Where God’s grace invites us into kinship with strangers. Where love opens doors previously locked. Where hope is not deferred to life after death, but is activated now in this community. Where kinship is found not in a perfect society, but among flawed humans who make mistakes, and sometimes hurt one another.
A kin-dom that we as followers of Christ can make real by doing the same things Jesus did. Like feeding hungry people at our tables. Like bringing healing to the sick in body and mind. Like overcoming the hate of this world with kindness and hospitality and respect.
Like replacing our instinctive desire for revenge, with undeserved forgiveness and restorative justice. Like making sacred and beautiful what others view as mundane and ugly.
A kin-dom led by Jesus, our lowly savior. Who wears a crown of bloody thorns. Who reigns from a cross-shaped throne.
Who welcomes all people to the kin-dom of God. And bestows on you and me the gift of a kindred spirit. Amen.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
GOSPEL READING: Luke 23:33-43
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
Tracey Wilkie, a Native American woman here in Fargo, was invited to lead a discussion on the Doctrine of Discovery, which was created by a Church edict issued by Pope Nicolas V nearly 500 years ago. This doctrine gave European explorers the right to colonize and remove indigenous peoples from their lands. It stated that they could claim any areas not inhabited by Christian people.
In practice, it resulted in the slaughter and genocide of millions of indigenous individuals throughout North and South America. Here in the Upper Midwest, thousands of children were forcibly removed from reservations to mostly-church-run boarding schools. Even today, the Doctrine of Discovery is referred to in legal cases and legislation. Here in the United States, federal laws still restrict the rights of Native Americans, such as their ability to own homes on their tribal lands.
During her discussion, Tracey also shared her personal experiences. Four generations of her family, including Tracey and her son, attended boarding schools, and suffered the effects of poverty on their reservation.
And even though the experiences of indigenous peoples are different in a variety of ways in Latin America, we also know that our friends in Guatemala understand the profound effects and generational trauma of colonization. The women of the Guatemalan church were deeply moved by Tracey’s story and expressed deep compassion and solidarity with her.
As a group we talked about some of the differences between our countries. Such as how here in the United States, there are about 5 million Native Americans—making up only 2 percent of our population.
In contrast Guatemala has 6.5 indigenous people—who make up 44 percent of their inhabitants. This difference is likely due to the millions of indigenous people who simply did not survive in our country.
During our Zoom conversation, I sensed a deep connection between Tracey and the Guatemalan women—something I would call a kindred spirit. Which is amazing when you consider that we are separated by over 2,000 miles.
Kindred is a word we don’t use very much. The dictionary defines “kindred” as people with the “same ancestry”—like kinfolk relatives or kindred tribes. But it’s also used for individuals who share a similar nature or character. For people whose interests or attitudes or experiences are similar to your own.
Kindred spirits can be found in many forms and in almost every type of relationship. Right now, I’d like you to think about someone who once was or is now a kindred spirit for you…. Maybe a close friend or confidant—someone you can tell just about anything. Perhaps a teacher or mentor who had a major impact on your education or life. Or possibly a member of your family or “kin.” Your partner or spouse. Maybe even a pet.
Some of us find kindred spirits in our “chosen family”—people we spend holidays like Thanksgiving with, rather than our biological family.
Kindred and kinfolk are both derived from words meaning family or tribe. After seminary, I spent a year and a half on a Lutheran Youth Encounter team that went to Mexico and Brazil. Our team’s name was “Kindred,” but in Spanish we called ourselves “La Familia de Dios” or “Family of God.”
The theology behind the name was that we Christians are all members of God’s family—kindred to one another, no matter where we live or where we come from. A kin-dom of equals—not people who lord it over one another. I believe that’s the vision Jesus had in mind when he spoke about the Kingdom of God.
In the Gospels, Jesus describes the Kingdom of God 37 different times—often using parables or stories as illustrations. Jesus tells his followers that the Kingdom of God is like leaven in a loaf of bread, like weeds secretly planted in a farmer’s field, like a woman searching for a lost coin, like a shepherd finding his missing sheep.
In each parable, Jesus seeks to open the eyes and minds of his listeners, who only knew life within the context of an oppressive Roman empire. Whose military conquered countries like Israel and installed puppet kings like Herod. Whose cruel governors like Pontius Pilate crushed uprisings and oppressed the weak and powerless. Whose Emperor Caesar was both a tyrant and self-proclaimed god. Who kills anyone who gets in his way.
Today, we know of kings and queens mostly from Disney movies and fairy tales. Most of the real kings and queens are figureheads—in the few countries left with royal families, who in reality have little political power.
Looking back on our history, more than a century has passed since World War II, where Germany had its Hitler, Italy its Mussolini, and Russia its Stalin—cruel dictators who murdered millions. Like them, the kings of Jesus’ time ruled supreme with wealth and cunning, destroying anyone who got in their way. That was the kingdom of Caesar.
Which is why the Kingdom of God as presented by Jesus was such a radical concept for his time. And still is today. In our Gospel lesson, Jesus is a king who hangs dying on a cross, the Roman execution method for anyone who rebelled against the State. By his crucifixion, Jesus becomes the ultimate metaphor for the Kingdom of God. For life reborn in death. For hope risen from defeated hearts. For love given as the ultimate sacrifice.
Today on this last weekend in November, we Christians make room for the Reign of Christ Sunday—also known as Christ the King Sunday. Our Church’s New Year’s Eve. With our liturgical calendar turning its page next week to Advent, when we remember once again that God enters history as the poor baby of an unwed mother. A new dynasty, not born from wealth or treachery, but grace and truth.
Ada María Isasi-Díaz was a Cuban American who served as professor of ethics and theology at Drew University in New Jersey. Ada passed away ten years ago, but is remembered for helping to create a Latin American theology called “mujerista theology.” “Mujer” in Spanish means “woman.” A “mujerista” is every woman who struggles for liberation as a member of her community, with a theology based on the real-life experiences of Latinas, many of whom are indigenous kinfolk.
Ada is also recognized for introducing the term “kin-dom of God’ in place of “kingdom of God” into the theological world. Years ago, while visiting a Franciscan friend named Sister Georgene, Ada heard her use the term “kin-dom of God” for the first time. As Ada reflected on that word, she had a spiritual and intellectual awakening.
For Ada, kin-dom represented a type of liberation empowered by love and embodied in a closely-knit family brought together by God. Kin-dom became the language she used to describe God’s liberating salvation at work in this world for those who suffer at the hands of kings.
Like Ada, the kin-dom of God can open our eyes to what Jesus originally envisioned when he prayed, “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven.”
Where God’s grace invites us into kinship with strangers. Where love opens doors previously locked. Where hope is not deferred to life after death, but is activated now in this community. Where kinship is found not in a perfect society, but among flawed humans who make mistakes, and sometimes hurt one another.
A kin-dom that we as followers of Christ can make real by doing the same things Jesus did. Like feeding hungry people at our tables. Like bringing healing to the sick in body and mind. Like overcoming the hate of this world with kindness and hospitality and respect.
Like replacing our instinctive desire for revenge, with undeserved forgiveness and restorative justice. Like making sacred and beautiful what others view as mundane and ugly.
A kin-dom led by Jesus, our lowly savior. Who wears a crown of bloody thorns. Who reigns from a cross-shaped throne.
Who welcomes all people to the kin-dom of God. And bestows on you and me the gift of a kindred spirit. Amen.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
GOSPEL READING: Luke 23:33-43
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”