Sunday Musings – December 16, 2018
It has been a week of extreme changes in the weather from bitter cold to unusually warm for this time of the year in this part of the planet. In many ways the weather could be a metaphor for the changes which are happening in the world. News is often dominated by war, domestic riots in France and some other countries, Brexit negotiations, refugees risking all for themselves and their families only to be turned away at the gate or their children taken from them and kept in camps and humbling acts of kindness.
Many Christians celebrate Christmas by recounting the story of a couple giving birth only to be told there is no room at the inn. Yet, as the story goes, some do help. Yesterday, I was reading about a small program in Los Angeles – a city where there are thousands of homeless people – called Host home. This program provides a host family/person, case management, help with finding permanent housing and a stipend to the host (Nearly all host families have refused any financial reimbursement.). So far, they have helped a tiny percentage of the nearly 53,000 homeless in Los Angeles, but it has once again made a few homeless people real with hopes, dreams, and love to give and receive. These few folks are not just the nameless homeless.
What if every homeless person was Mary, Joseph and the new born baby Jesus? What if we could put aside our fear, our attachment to things, schedules, privacy, and labels and welcome Mary, Joseph and in due time the baby Jesus into our homes and our hearts?
It is easy to write a small check, volunteer some time, stop to say hello or even have a real conversation with “the least of these”, but it is tough to take the risk of being inconvenienced or possibly robbed. We ask ourselves what if the person is an active addict and is unable to respect our home, our possessions, and possibly other family members? What if the person has a serious mental illness? For me the list of “reasons” I cannot invite a homeless person to stay at my home is extensive. After all, I must respect the privacy and safely of the clients I see in my home office. The licensing board members would remind me that boundaries are very necessary and required by ethics rules. My insurance may not cover any claims resulting from inviting the homeless to stay at my place. Many would rightly remind me if I do not get rest and take care of myself I will not be able to help any of the clients to whom I already have a commitment. Some would say I already give away a lot with my volunteer work and my availability to others via phone, text and email.
Last night I was with a group of friends who give time, money, a listening ear, and much more to “the least of these”. I am always humbled by their example and reminded that these and many other generous hearts make room at the inn even as others of us turn a deaf ear and cover our eyes to the individual and collective acts of closing the doors of the inn even when there is room.
Christmas should and does fill me with enormous gratitude for all the love that I receive and which is evidence by the kind acts of many who do “walk the talk”. Yet it also challenges me to think outside of the small box in which I live; to see the number of times I turn off the lights, close and lock the doors and put up a “No Vacancy” sign when in fact there is room at the inn.
Written December 16, 2018
It has been a week of extreme changes in the weather from bitter cold to unusually warm for this time of the year in this part of the planet. In many ways the weather could be a metaphor for the changes which are happening in the world. News is often dominated by war, domestic riots in France and some other countries, Brexit negotiations, refugees risking all for themselves and their families only to be turned away at the gate or their children taken from them and kept in camps and humbling acts of kindness.
Many Christians celebrate Christmas by recounting the story of a couple giving birth only to be told there is no room at the inn. Yet, as the story goes, some do help. Yesterday, I was reading about a small program in Los Angeles – a city where there are thousands of homeless people – called Host home. This program provides a host family/person, case management, help with finding permanent housing and a stipend to the host (Nearly all host families have refused any financial reimbursement.). So far, they have helped a tiny percentage of the nearly 53,000 homeless in Los Angeles, but it has once again made a few homeless people real with hopes, dreams, and love to give and receive. These few folks are not just the nameless homeless.
What if every homeless person was Mary, Joseph and the new born baby Jesus? What if we could put aside our fear, our attachment to things, schedules, privacy, and labels and welcome Mary, Joseph and in due time the baby Jesus into our homes and our hearts?
It is easy to write a small check, volunteer some time, stop to say hello or even have a real conversation with “the least of these”, but it is tough to take the risk of being inconvenienced or possibly robbed. We ask ourselves what if the person is an active addict and is unable to respect our home, our possessions, and possibly other family members? What if the person has a serious mental illness? For me the list of “reasons” I cannot invite a homeless person to stay at my home is extensive. After all, I must respect the privacy and safely of the clients I see in my home office. The licensing board members would remind me that boundaries are very necessary and required by ethics rules. My insurance may not cover any claims resulting from inviting the homeless to stay at my place. Many would rightly remind me if I do not get rest and take care of myself I will not be able to help any of the clients to whom I already have a commitment. Some would say I already give away a lot with my volunteer work and my availability to others via phone, text and email.
Last night I was with a group of friends who give time, money, a listening ear, and much more to “the least of these”. I am always humbled by their example and reminded that these and many other generous hearts make room at the inn even as others of us turn a deaf ear and cover our eyes to the individual and collective acts of closing the doors of the inn even when there is room.
Christmas should and does fill me with enormous gratitude for all the love that I receive and which is evidence by the kind acts of many who do “walk the talk”. Yet it also challenges me to think outside of the small box in which I live; to see the number of times I turn off the lights, close and lock the doors and put up a “No Vacancy” sign when in fact there is room at the inn.
Written December 16, 2018
RSS Feed