"One in a Million"
Joan Riebel
Sunday, December 26th 2004

A few months after Jacob Wetterling was kidnapped, his mother was interviewed by a reporter. He told Patty that there were thousands of missing children in the United States and then asked her, “What makes Jacob so special?” Her response was “because he’s mine!” Of course that was what made him special. He was her son and she turned her life over to finding him. He was, after all, one in a million. As we all know, Patty went on to make the recovery of missing children a priority in her life. While she’s never forgotten her focus on Jacob, she has brought national attention to the plight of missing children. Her story is a wonderful example of what all of us face as members of close, intimate families and, at the same time, as members of the broader family of God. Those whom we love are, after all, one in a million. At the same time we are, all of us, one in the millions of the world. It’s a challenge to set priorities that recognize our personal responsibilities and our Christian values. In fact, how do we even develop our values as families, intimate families who belong to God’s family?

Today’s gospel focuses on Joseph, the father of Jesus, being asked by an angel in a dream to take Jesus to Egypt so he would be spared from Herod and his plans to kill all young males. The gospel story goes on to describe how Herod ordered the massacre of all the boys under two years of age who lived in Bethlehem and it’s vicinity. Two thousand years later we still remember that tragedy as the slaughter of the innocence. We also remember how Jesus was spared because Joseph took him and his mother to Egypt in the dead of night to escape Herod’s wrath.

Picture yourself as Joseph. In a dream, an angel tells you to get up and go to Egypt. In hindsight, it seems like a no brainer. But you wake up, the bed is cozy and comfortable. The last thing in the world you want to do is pack all your belongings and take off on a trip to another country. But he did just that, from all accounts because the angel’s message was so clear to him. Wouldn’t it be great if all of us dreamt or thought such clear messages about what God wants from us?

Today’s Sunday is called Holy Family Sunday in our church. Through our baptism all of us are called to live holy lives, lives in which our values are wholly the driving force behind our decisions. We are called to bring about God’s rein of peace and justice in our world. Wouldn’t it be great if an angel would appear to us in the night and tell us how to do that? To tell us just what God expects from us? Or would it?

God, the great Wisdom, saw free will, or the ability to make choices, as an essential aspect of our human nature. In the scripture readings today, we praise the Lord for all we have been given. And of all the gifts we have been given, our free will is a wonderful gift indeed. We know, for instance, that each of us made a choice to get up this morning and come to mass at St. Joan of Arc. We could have stayed in bed. We could be home playing with our Christmas toys. We could be doing any number of things other than sitting here as a community of faith celebrating God’s presence with us. We made a choice, each of us, to be here. And being able to make choices is one aspect of what we love about life. But, of course, there’s a paradox. The paradox is that while we’re making a choice to be here, we can’t make any number of other choices. This choice closes off other choices. So while we want to believe we can always make a choice, living life is more complex than simply saying “this or that.”

In our culture we are so conditioned to think in terms of polarities, we tend to think simplistically. We are either a blue state or a red state; we are either liberal or conservative. We are either from the suburbs or from the city. We are either persons of color or white, a minority or the majority. We rarely escape thinking in polarities, even when we try. As a culture we fragment reality into an endless series of either/ors. You’re either Christian or you’re not Christian. You’re either with us or against us. You’re either straight or you’re gay. This kind of thinking destroys the beauty and complexity and the wholeness of life. We find God, not by splitting the world into either/ors, but by embracing the both/and. Parker Palmer calls it, “thinking the world together”, which means quite simply, supporting the connectedness of it all. This way of approaching the world is imbedded in paradox.

Consider, for instance our need for both community and solitude. We were made for relationships. Without a rich and nourishing network of family and friends, we wither and die. At the same time, we were made for solitude. No other human person can possibly enter or know our inner mystery. In very profound ways, we each lead a solitary life. When we fail to embrace this aloneness and seek meaning only in relationships, we lose an essential part of ourselves. This paradox is embedded in family relationships. Each of us knows that helping our children and ourselves come to know and understand our individuality is an essential role of the family. Parents, and grandparents! have a responsibility to help children learn to master themselves, help them form their values and choose a path. At the same time, a family thrives and grows in its connections with each other. We need relationships, and in our families we are constantly challenged by the nature of choice between individuality and self-expression, and connectedness and wholeness. We are constantly challenged by the nature and paradox of choices.

As I prepared for this presentation, what I really wanted to do is be the angel in the dream. I wanted to be able to say, if you do this or that, you will be a good, holy family. I wanted to be able to say, this is what God wants of us. I wanted you to be able to go home today and say, “Wow! That was the clearest direction for my life that I’ve ever heard.” But, of course, I’m not that angel. Those of you who know me well certainly know I’m not an angel. I struggle every day with what God wants from me. Diane Jacobson, a Professor at Luther Seminary said it a little differently in the last issue of NCR: “I take joy when scripture contradicts itself, because this indicates that God’s truth is a whole lot more complicated than my truth.” Note I said “I struggle every day”, she said “I take joy in contradictions”. We can learn from the Lutherans!

In the opening reading Thomas Merton writes:

In preparing this reflection, I took some time to think about events in my life in which this paradox instructed me. I clearly remember four such times; the birth of my children, a visit to the emergency room, my treatment for cancer, and my father's death. These events were very solitary, yet seemed to bind me with others in profound ways.

There is, perhaps, no other joy and ecstasy greater than the birth of a child. Except, perhaps, the birth of a grandchild! When I tell other parents about looking at my child, holding my child or watching him smile for the first time, there is an immediate recognition. There is such a profound, deep connection to a child that is so hard to explain; yet every parent seems to understand. This profound, hope-filled joy is a universal experience. It is so unique and yet so universal. We are connected to parents all over the world who know of this wonderful experience -- parents in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Sudan and South Africa.

When I was called to the emergency room following my son's bicycle accident, it was as if I walked into a different world. All I wanted was for him to be safe and healthy. It didn't matter if he had brushed his teeth or combed his hair. It didn’t matter if he had a college degree, it didn't matter if he had scars on his face. I wanted him to be able to walk, to see, to be full of joy, and to feel hope. As I waited in the surgery waiting room, I visited with a farmer whose wife's hand had been caught in a piece of machinery. She had lost all her fingers. In the middle of the night we talked together about the most important things in our lives. We talked as if we'd always known each other. Class and culture were no barrier. At 4:00 in the morning we said goodbye, never to visit with each other again. This kind of crisis is so unique and yet touches us all. We are connected to loved ones all over the world who know of family trauma -- people in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Sudan and South Africa.

In the chemotherapy room of a cancer center, the distinctions of gender, race and class melt away. We sat together in a large room with curtains separating us, each of us with needles in our arms. Rarely did we speak to each other, but we always made eye contact in our comings and goings. We knew by looking at one another what we were each experiencing. Words were not necessary. The white gowns, the needles and the doctors all served as a common bond. It was such a solitary experience and yet touched that deep place of human connection. We are connected to people with life threatening illnesses in all parts of the world-- those in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Sudan and South Africa.

With the death of my father, everyone I talked with seemed to understand. Others, even those who had never met my father, felt my sadness and grief. And yet, I felt so alone with it. We must each come to terms with the loss of a loved one and yet that loss binds us as human beings as does no other universal event. Those living in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Sudan and South Africa all know of this grief.

During this holiday season, this sacred time of Christmas, let's each take some time to confront the barriers that divide us. Let’s try to resist either/or thinking, and embrace the “complicated truth.” Jacob was everyone’s child, as are all the other missing children. During this sacred season, when we’re sitting with our families, let’s take time to think about the human family and the cords that bind us -- human beings who are hoping, who are resilient, who are living life in the best ways possible, in both intimate relationships and in this “…hidden wholeness. This mysterious Unity…”! Happy Holidays!