As-salam alaikum.

For the inward mind and heart of a man are deep.

But God shoots His arrow at them;
    they are wounded suddenly. Psalm 64:7

Judge not, that you be not judged.  For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye. Matthew 7:1-5

No one is to be called an enemy, all are your benefactors, and no one does you harm. You have no enemy except yourselves. –Francis of Assisi

Ah, Facebook. The tie that binds.

I met Omar Fekeiki, a journalist from Baghdad, Iraq, under the big eucalyptus tree in the backyard one evening maybe twelve years ago when he came over to meet Ali. One evening, and still our lives are linked, and he shares his perspective occasionally, and mine grows with understanding.

Such is Facebook.

And today he shared a post from Abdalla Al Omari, a Syrian refugee who began an art series out of a justifiable frustrated anger, and yet, over time, it turned his heart tender, as each of our hearts should be tender to the vulnerability and brokenness that each human carries deep within.

And today Dre posted someone’s story on Facebook too… that of a former neo-Confederate, who traced the relatively reasonable path of pivotal events and scattered bits of information and just-now-articulated emotions that led him to hold an abhorrent perspective. Just like me, who also has over a lifetime pieced together equally haphazardly stitched together self-evident yet blurred perspectives from which I view the world. And her peoples.

And today I took another breezy walk along the battle trench and read a memorial which read something about of the partisan brigade’s victory over the confused and broken Nazi-Barbarism. Ten meters further along the now-jogging path was another memorial, this one in honor of this sacrifice which remains the last crime of Italian blind hatred of Italian; remember that union generates strength, freedom and the weapons of justice, love and the seeds of life.

 And really it doesn’t matter whose side was whose. There stamped in the marble are the photos and names of beloved young men: sons, husbands and fathers. None of us really know what we are doing.

 And when the LORD God Almighty chose to enter this brokenness in molecular form, He extended wide His merciful arms and forgave the spitters and cursers for they knew not what they did. What we do. What I do.

Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.

It is He who looses the arrows into the depths to pierce the darkness. It is He who casts light. It was by His wounds that we are healed of ours. And it is He who looked up in the sycamore fig tree and called out: Zacchaeus!" he said. "Quick, come down! I must be a guest in your home today.

A guest takes off his shoes and enters the doorway of the home, humbly and gratefully receiving what is served while listening to the stories told around the table. Quick to hear, slow to speak.

We have been called to heal wounds, to unite what has fallen apart, and to bring home those who have lost their way. –Francis of Assisi

May I today follow in my beloved Savior’s footsteps and in those who have faithfully followed afterwards with their eyes fixed upon Him, undistracted by the specks of dust cast up by the enemy.