Friends,

I love my family so much, and I am going to take a moment to brag on my brother and mother.

My brother and sister have exactly no interest in going to Church, but they generally live a more Christian life than me. Their capacity to love and do something about it is remarkable. My brother has always gravitated to people that most others avoid or even feel active distain for. In High School he often skipped lunch because he was giving his food away to friends who were very sketchy and very hungry. One person was downright scary, but my brother seemingly had a compulsion to understand that scariness, and what he found was someone that experience too little care, lacked resources, and found ways of surviving that sometimes… oftentimes meant doing sketchy things. This isn’t a “their scariness was just a façade and deep down these were just innocent kids in need of love” sort of story. They were kids in need of love, but the scariness was very much real. My brother’s drive to befriend these kids was remarkable, and the way he did so through being their friend and not a just a privileged kid with extra food, makes me suspect this is how Christ would have shown them love.

Many of these friends came and went, but one friend, let’s call him Ulysses, has been omni-present in the background my brother’s life. Ulysses made many very bad decisions, and we’ve been around him long enough that we know how truly terrible his parents treated him. I have only known the goofy, friendly, compulsive and overly complacent version of Ulysses, and I generally like spending time with him. After the car he’s been living in stopped running this past winter, my brother let him move into his house. Ulysses is a terrible diabetic, and my brother would keep an eye on him to make sure he was taking his insulin and eating, and in turn Ulysses would take care of the cat and other odd things around the house.

The problem is that my brother moved to Nashville this past March, and no one knew what to do with Ulysses. He always would say that he has a perfectly fine broken-down car to live in, but there was no way that would end well, so my mother is paying for him to stay in a room in a halfway house of sorts. In return, Ulysses helps my mom run errands for my grandmother who has dementia and has recently started helping her bake in her new home-based bakery. They specialize in sourdough and sell their bread at farmers markets in Georgia. So now, most days a semi-homeless punk-rocker type with severe emotional scars, and an old lady with dementia bake bread with my mother, and they are all best friends. My grandmother very often needs to be reminded who Ulysses is, and Ulysses cannot figure out how to do two things at once, even when one of those things is having the bread bake. I mean to say, that if the bread is baking, we won’t do anything else until it’s done. He just sits and waits. I doubt their efficiency, but not their heart and their appreciation for their shared work, and I want to make this a children’s book in the worst way.

So, a few days ago, Ulysses got hit by a car while riding my mother’s electric bike (his car is not working, remember), and while his injuries weren’t bad, he took a few days off baking. Yesterday my mother, texted him to check in on his wrist. He said it was fine, but he was getting nauseous, because he’s been out of insulin. WHAT?!?! Formally my mother was an ER nurse, so she went to him and took him to the hospital. After a full day in the ICU his blood sugar got down to 360, which is still scary high. Someone thought he let himself get this sick so it would improve his case to get on disability. Someone else said that it is just so hard to ask for help. For those who know Ulysses, it’s clear that he does not connive, nor does he feel excessive pride, but that he simply does not consider the consequences of his actions or inactions. This sounds ridiculous, but we’ve seen it time and time again.

Here's the lesson. My mom saved Ulysses’ life. She very correctly said that anyone would have helped Ulysses when he was having a diabetic emergency. He was in a vulnerable and life-threatening situation. I think even the most callous individuals would have stepped in to help him. The part that is remarkable is that my brother and my mom cared enough to maintain a relationship with Ulysses over the course of many years. If no one had checked in on him, he likely would have just let his diabetes get further and further out of control. Insulin saves lives, but in this case, a relationship was needed to get the insulin into the patient.

The miracle of Jesus coming into the world is rooted in relationship. Having God be our creator and sustainer is great, but it is roughly analogous to the insulin being on the shelf, but away from the patient. It is Jesus that bridges the gap between the source of love and life, and us the people who so desperately need it. I sometimes feel that I should embody this type of radical relationship building more, like my family does, but right now I cannot do that responsibly. I have two young children to take care of, and a spouse I dearly love, who may not be on the same page as me. Maybe one day I’ll bake sourdough with a dementia patient and a semi-homeless punk rocker, but right now I need to be dad. Just because I cannot do the same work my family does in making these relationships, does not mean I should not see or give thanks for their righteousness and love. I am in awe.

I cannot help but try to find some bridge to this incredibly unique story, and something that has been haunting me. Things are terrible for the people in Gaza and scary for Jewish people everywhere. I am horrified by the attack carried out by Hamas, and I cannot help but constantly think of that young mother and her children that were killed in captivity. The fact there are still many who remain hostages is sickening. I am horrified at the tremendous loss of life of Palestinians in Gaza, and the lack of aid that has reached them. So many innocents have died in circumstances that we cannot even begin to imagine within Gaza. I cringe when I think about the assassinations of the Israeli diplomats just in Washington DC, and the horrible person who attacked Jewish demonstrators with Molotov cocktails in Colorado. I am tired of hearing people callously justify violence against unarmed civilians and children. I understand that there are heaps of context, history, and oppression that go beyond my understand, but I am afraid. I am afraid the only conversations happening are about winning against the other side, and the voices trying to find a real and sustained peace are either non-existent or being drowned out.

I do know, that like my inability to be the person my mother and brother are now, I also feel helpless to champion this issue in a way that would be helpful. However, that does not mean that I cannot support those who are doing the good work. I am no expert in this matter, but I do know that the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion have had a lasting presence in Gaza. The Church Mission Society of the Anglican Communion owns Al-Ahli Arab Hospital and operate it as part of our collective mission. Throughout its history the hospital has provided a profound amount of care, which has not stopped, but has been disrupted after it was bombed twice during the war in Gaza.

They are helping bridge the gap literally and figuratively between the insulin and the patient, and I am striving to pay more attention to what they are doing and what they are saying. Regardless of your convictions, I hope we can agree that the people in Gaza need medical care now and in the future. I encourage to keep tabs on them as well as their righteous is well beyond what I am able to muster.

The organization “American Friends of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem” is a good place to start. Here is a blurb from their website about Al-Ahli Arab Hospital.

“Travel restrictions are a daily reality for Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. For thousands of families across the region, the charitable hospitals and community clinics of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem are the only healthcare options in proximity to their homes. Serving some of the most vulnerable people in the world, these institutions welcome all patients without regard to their religion, ethnicity, or ability to pay. Everyone is treated with dignity and respect.”

You can keep up with them by following this link.

Blessings,

Nick