The Sweet Return (7)

Jesus,

I'm so sorry. Love is not winning in this season of Lent among the faithful, but rather hate.

In weeks crafted to be those of quietness, we are shouting.

In days to be still and know that you are you, we are defending ourselves.

In hours set aside for prayer and good deeds, we are linking and tweeting.

In minutes pregnant with the splendor of this gift called life, we are aborting our greatest witness - unity.

  

At the sound of the 'Bell' we have come out fighting, fists clenched, chests puffed, convinced this is a contest, a struggle, a mound worth dying on. At this rate our cries on Easter of 'Risen indeed!' will be nothing more than sounding brass and clanging cymbal. I'm not on Facebook these days, Lord, you know that, but still the mob's furor has reached my ears, it is loud like the whirlwind.

Then again, maybe there is design in all this, a graphic rendering of who we are and what we're capable of in the name of you...we are carnivores, people who love the blood, the bite and devour of one another.

Jesus, forgive me, forgive us...we still do not know what we do. Have mercy.
Amen.