The waters of the ocean are polluted with micro beads, plastic bags and other rubbish from our excess. In more recent days these same waters are choked with the bodies of our brothers and sisters fleeing horrendous violence. The air that we breathe is hazardous to our health. Mountains and beaches, forests and fields, once places of solitude and retreat have become mine fields soaked with the blood of modern day martyrs. Jesus who knocks at our door in the guise of the refugee, poor and vulnerable is turned away time and time again with walls, and fences, angry words and acts of hatred and fear.
In the midst of this desolate scene Christians are called to hope, to hold on to hope and to be hope. We are called to the hope that pushes a blade of grass through concrete, the hope that brings a dead tree to life after an endless and unrelenting winter, the hope of a mother that continues to search for her child in the rubble of a blown up building long after other searchers have given up, the hope of cross and tomb given over to resurrection.
Deborah Mallott, DC