FROM THE BOUNDARY
One of the most beautiful things in the priestly life is the interaction with children. For me, given limitations of opportunity, this has been mainly confined to blessings. The kids are so trusting as you stand, bend or kneel to cradle them in outstretched palms and look, with equal trust and love, into their eyes as you say words to them which Jesus might have said. “May the Holy One bless you, touch you, hold you and caress you. May He bless those whom you bless, care for those for whom you care. May a thousand angels watch over you….” To bless the children is itself a blessing of Jesus.
After service, my orange car was a great favourite with some of the little lads and, if they asked me, I’d drive them round the car park for fun’s sake: and that was a blessing too. And the wonderful thing is that despite all our posings and posturings, and our needfulness, indeed because of it, at root we all have the identity of children. We all remain sons and daughters.
Well, the other day I had a call from the blue. It was the Grandad of a little lad I used to drive round a church car park. That was maybe nine years ago and I’d heard nothing since. The news was terrible. The lad, at 13, had died of cancer. What? Just a little lad? A little child of Jesus? Oh God, no. Why Lord? Well, Grandad invited me to the funeral, and I went. I was at the back. No one saw my tears.
It was a very beautiful service and the eulogies all spoke to what a remarkable little boy blessed Nahjae was, truly a gift from God. The service was intended as a celebration and by request we wore blue. A young pupil from Queens’ College sang ‘One Moment in Time’ brilliantly. Bless her too. She had a truly wonderful voice. In the middle of the song she broke down. And that was when I first became tearful. But she persevered, picked herself up, and finished the song. That took courage and grit. Good on ya, kid. Proud of you.
Then Nahjae’s Aunty Mary spoke. With great passion, she said – and it was a message to this nation of our children: “Don’t call them names. Don’t put them down. Love them unconditionally.”
Yes, just love them, for “in heaven their angels always behold the face” of God, and no sacrifice is too great. How wise and compassionate were your words, Mary. The babes are loved before they’re born, and in life they’re loved whatever they’ve done or haven’t done. They’re never a mistake. The Kingdom belongs to those who are like them. I’m sick and tired of hearing about “the youth”, how empty-headed they are, how subversive they are, how they’re bereft of values – YOUR values, as you claim, though you don’t observe them yourselves. For God’s sake LOVE THEM. Don’t ever despise them. Jesus forbids it. God’s gift to you, they want YOU. And when they go wrong, don’t just blame them. Ask yourselves where YOU went wrong. Don’t put it all down to the devil and the “powers of the air”. What a cop out. It’s YOU and ME that they’ll carry with them after we’re dead. So don’t blame them for the world we’ve given them. It’s time for ALL of us to get real with ourselves and scrub away the grime of years. Thank you, Mother Mary, for what you said in your tears. Bless you!
Children: it’s all been revealed to babes. They live in the eternal now, not the speculative tomorrow, nor the dead yesterday. They smile, laugh and weep spontaneously. Do we? They give their trust naturally. Do we? They’re not two-faced, nor warped by malice. Are we? They’re ever creative and want to give their best. Do we? Their hearts are warm and tender. Are ours? Oh sure, they’re not diplomats. They say what they feel and what they see. Yes – for their souls are pure. Are ours? So don’t put them down. Don’t call them names. Don’t make them the victims of our own brokenness. No, for the despair we drill into them will last their lifetimes. No, for it’s time for all of us to cast away our chains and let our hearts be free as we’ve ever been intended to be – like a child.
Nahjae: the “little giant” who fought against the odds and made all who knew him stronger, who touched lives, and for whom love cannot fade. You were a gift, little son, a light who still shines in all the hearts who loved you, a light for all of us who fumble our way through the ups and downs which mark our journey. Maybe that’s what it’s all about. I wish I’d known him better. Yet maybe, in writing this and being there at his funeral celebration, I do now. You see, he speaks to me as if I’d always known him. Maybe he speaks to you, for all of us our ‘moment in time’. Go for it, kid. Love you!
Go safely, then – until the next time.
Bish from the boundary: “…the modus operandi…is that of Jesus, to seek and to save, rather than to condemn and destroy”
(Bishop Michael)