Where We Belong

I’ve just returned from a work trip to southern Kenya to celebrate 20 years of service of an organization transforming Maasai warriors who kill lions into Lion Guardians who protect lions.  Their work is to promote peaceful coexistence between Maasai communities and lion communities sharing land. Lion killing is a deeply embedded rite of passage for young Maasai men entering adulthood; during the celebration I heard speeches of Guardians who now claim kinship with lions. By working to understand and reduce conflict between the human and lion communities, the region has seen a seven-fold increase of the lion population over the past two decades while the Maasai community thrives.

Back in the US, the will to decide who belongs or does not, who is right or wrong, who should be jailed and who should be set free is pervasive. Coexistence feels like a distant dream in a culture that rewards judgment and certainty, much like we see in attitude of the Pharisee in this week’s Gospel reading.*

Jesus tells another story—the Good Samaritan—where the boundaries of “us and them” dissolve in the face of compassion. The Samaritan crosses the road toward the wounded man, refusing to see an enemy, only a neighbor. In the same spirit, Jesus commands, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Love and mercy can only flow when we step out of judgment and into compassion.  Peaceful coexistence is possible if we open to it.

When we take on the consciousness of Christ, we begin to see as God sees. The Pharisee’s prayer is a prayer that divides; the tax collector’s prayer is a prayer that brings us together.

In our age of division, Jesus invites us to pray like the tax collector and act like the Samaritan—to let humility soften our hearts until even our “enemies” become neighbors, even kin. When we release the need to be right, we make space for mercy. And in that space, we discover that the ground before God is level, and we all belong.