•
perhaps most importantly (a learning from the
ministry of reconciliation), we must provide
safe and hospitable spaces for people to get to
know each other, share their gifts, and share
their wounds. Uecker, continued from page 11
Is it a coincidence that at this time in history we
are called to become a new creation? How can our
new creation help to bring about the new heaven and
new earth?
Refocusing Our Mission. Entering the New
Creation is not so much about what we might
have to give up as what gifts we bring and how
our ministries can enhance one another. The
deeply fractured nation in which we are now liv-
ing certainly provides a strong call to attending
to wounds and to a ministry of reconciliation. “Etch the vision in our imaginations to help us see
the time is now.”
Anticipating Our Arrival
Anticipating becoming a New Creation, even
before the contours of it are entirely clear, helps us
tap into the work of God, as the passage in Romans 8
reminds us . Our gathering at Eucharist, our spiritual-
ity of the Cup as a cup of memory and a cup of hope,
will help sustain us along with way. As we move
along that way, we can enhance our resilience—our
capacity to be flexible and bend, but also call upon
our trust in a God who does not abandon us, a God
whose name is Mercy. It helps us to live in hope. The
rituals that draw us together will echo those liturgies
awaiting us in heaven, as the Book of Revelation set
before us, allowing us to “follow the Lamb wherever
he goes” (Rev 14:4).
That word “etch.” It implies pain; it implies scratch-
ing, digging in with a sharp tool; it implies making a
mark that can never be erased. So long as the vision
is engraved into our minds and hearts, so long as we
constantly refer to it, so long as it is the guiding force
for our lives, we will know that we are on the right path.
Come what may, this vision will be our guiding light.
“Give us the courage to find our home on the edge
where heaven meets earth and hope is born.”
I doubt if any of us really want to be on the edge;
it’s too comfortable in the middle. It’s not easy to let
loose of power, money, and prestige and privilege, and
sometimes even friends—those who would not join
us on the edge. I’m sure St. Gaspar felt this when the
jealousy of his brother priests got him in hot water—
when they tried to kick him upstairs by making him a
bishop in Brazil.
But isn’t this why we’re community? To be instru-
ments of God, to push each other to the edge. When
my well is dry, I come to yours to draw strength. When
I get scared and weak-kneed, you are there to push me
back into the struggle. When your well is dry, I offer
mine. When you can’t see clearly which way to go, I
want to be there as a light for you.
But none of this can happen without honest sharing
of ourselves. We’re not too good at this yet, but we’re
learning. It’s been happening little by little. To the ex-
tent that we can share, we can make it to the edge. And
judging from the lives of the saints, once we’re at the
edge, that’s where we find God most visible.
“Blessed, happy are the poor in spirit, the reign of
God is theirs.” “I am the Lord your God; my favorite
dwelling is at the edge.”
Come on, Elijah, do your thing once again, this
time with the Missionaries of the Precious Blood.
July 2018 • The New Wine Press • 15