Reflection on the Crosses by Terri Connolly

Our advent book, Child of the Light, spoke to my aching heart with a reading about "One Who Comforts Us -- Israel's strength and consolation". I truly needed it, for I returned home from a funeral visitation heavy with sorrow.

Recently a young African American man was shot and killed on the streets of Louisville; was it #66 or 67?  The number itself doesn't matter but the fact that there is even one does. His name is Joseph and he was just 21 years old. I got to know Joseph and his family about 15 years ago in my work with an intervention program in Portland. His parents, Joe and Darlene, had a bunch of little ones and they committed themselves very intentionally to doing everything they could to bring opportunities to their children that they may not have had.

Ours was a parenting program from infancy leading into school and Joe and Darlene were charter members, very involved as were all their children. They were gentle, nurturing, very hard working and very devoted to their children. I remember every week Joe bringing  the preschoolers and toddlers and then, Darlene joining us with the babies after both had played tag team working 2-3 jobs, she as a nurse's aide and he custodial. School and church and family were their life. Several years later, I ran into them regularly as they worked the snack bars at the soccer fields on River Road with their children.

As I walked into GC Williams funeral home on West Broadway, I was consumed by an ocean of grief and sorrow. I was most obviously an interloper with my white face and I did not wear the air brushed t-shirt commemorating Joseph. But I shared the grief and I was deeply touched when father Joe called me by name from across the crowded room. We hugged and I expressed my condolences which he kindly accepted. Yes, he comforted me. We both shared in that moment the injustice and sorrow that goes deeper than this one senseless loss.

I cried as I drove home for all the societal ills which made Joseph a victim. I do not know anything about the events surrounding his death nor his recent years; I do not need to. The fact is, he was an intelligent, strong, young black man with parents who poured their hearts and souls into his life, surrounded by so many, many family and friends who loved him and feel a depth of longing for his life to be among them -- just like any of us. But he was a victim of place and time and other influences.  I so wanted to meet all the children and the two grandchildren but the weeping and wailing and hugging was tight and I could not get near Darlene for the protection of loved ones with which she was surrounded.

I left feeling a profound loss of hope, looking into the faces of the many children there who are likewise loved and hoped for. I left feeling that for all our efforts, Joseph still died a victim.  I promised Joe that I would carry Joseph's cross and remember him and their family in their grief and loss. It is the very least I could do.

So, as we pounded in our crosses into the ground, my sorrow was fresh and I pray we will all remember these as ones who have been loved and whose lives began as infants with every hope.  Yes, I needed words of comfort, strength and consolation for Joseph and all the Joseph's we remember this Sunday. I see that the next reading is about hope. In Christ only is our HOPE redeemed.

A  prayer from the advent book:

"God, the source of our strength and our comfort, I offer these prayers to you. You are the Comforter, the Sustainer. Be present in all the broken places in my life and in the world. Help me to prepare a place for you this day."