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Chicago ’ s Via Crucis by Fr . Dave Kelly , c . pp . s ., pbmr Director
Once again , Chicago is in the news for the violence . It is hard to deny the gravity of the problem when the number of shootings in a seven-hour period on a Sunday morning reaches 40 people . As I expected , there were a lot of people weighing in on who or what is responsible : police , community , young men , poverty , gangs , drugs , trauma , etc .
For us here at pbmr , like so many , this is not a theoretical discussion . It is deeply , deeply personal . Last week three of the gunshot victims were part of our family — they were shot getting ready to start their workday in our woodshop . Luckily , they will survive the physical trauma ; the emotional trauma , however , is a different story . Trauma is that which we cannot integrate or make sense of ; it is that which interrupts our lives and causes deep emotional wounds . It causes outbursts of emotions : fear , deep sadness , and anger . Often it leaves one hypervigilant and paranoid , and erodes trust , which ultimately leaves one in isolation .
A couple hours after the shooting , we sat in circle with a group of young men from the Center . One of the young men burst into tears and covered his face . Everyone understood , for each feels the weight of living in a world where young men of color are more likely to die of homicide than anything else . While my heart aches at their pain , I feel some comfort in that we can at least offer these young men ( and staff ) a place where emotions are not silenced ; a place where outrage and anger are given space , where healing can begin .
I don ’ t have the answers , but I know this is exactly where we are supposed to be . This is a sacred place , not because we fill the air with platitudes or have answers , but because we are present .
Some years ago , Sr . Donna Liette c . pp . s . and I were at Mater Dolorosa Retreat Center in California . Walking down the long winding path outside the main building , you stumble upon a series of large statues depicting Jesus on his path to Calvary . One was of the women of Jerusalem meeting Jesus , next was the one of Mary encountering Jesus as he strained under the weight of the cross . It was the pained and helpless look on Mary ’ s face that really spoke to me . And in the eyes of Jesus was the loving recognition of his mother . Even in her powerlessness there was the powerful presence of His mother — one who would not be separated from her son .
Last week , when our young men were shot in front of our art center , being so close , many of us arrived well before the ambulance . I held my hand over Dashaun ’ s wound , pressing hard to stop the bleeding until another staff got the tourniquet around his leg and the ambulance arrived . It was a frightening moment , but also very sacred . As I washed the blood from my hand , I felt the tears well up in my eyes . While they were tears of being powerless in the face of so much violence , they were also tears of being connected to a spirituality that embraces pain and suffering and places it in the pain and suffering of Jesus .
Strange as it may sound , as I washed my hands , the song , “ Song of Liberation ,” sung so often at our c . pp . s . celebrations , came to mind : “ The blood of Christ refreshes our souls , gives us new courage , liberates our lives . The blood of the poor soaks into the land , cries out for justice , yearning for peace . We are redeemed in the blood of Christ . We are washed in love . Sent by the blood , stained by the blood , we are servants of the blood of Christ . The bones of the weary ache for compassion , searching for vision , shout out with new strength .”
We are where we are supposed to be — present to the suffering as we give witness to power of God ’ s love . �
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10 • The New Wine Press • September 2018