Without Exception

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr., American clergyman, activist and civil rights leader (1929-1968) 

It was the best clubhouse ever. Our Dad had helped us build it out of scrap wood and tar paper from his contracting business. At first we had hoped for a tree house, but none of the trees on our property was particularly suitable. Not to mention that our Grandmother was not keen on the idea of our driving nails into her Golden Delicious apple trees. Especially since we had already made a habit of using the crab apples she used to make jelly as projectiles in our make-believe war games! 

In later years I occasionally came across an old black and white photo of the structure. Inevitably it brought back warm memories. Even though it looked like a condemned shanty-town structure, to me and my two brothers it was magical. In our imaginations it could become anything we wanted it to be: a fortress, a cave, a secret hideaway or just our private clubhouse.

Since it was OUR clubhouse, “membership had its privileges.” My best friend, Herbie Matyas, was always welcome.  Well, usually welcome…. On the other hand, my younger brothers and I spent our summers excommunicating one another from the structure. Some days it was peace on earth, other days it was like the Gaza strip. 

However, amidst all our turf wars, real and imagined, there was one thing we all agreed upon…  No girls! Specifically this meant the next door neighbor girl, Peggy Lou Signorella. Peggy Lou was older than the rest of us and therefore smarter (in later life she became a medical doctor), but it didn’t matter. It was a hard and fast rule; no girls. It never dawned on us that she probably didn’t want to come into our clubhouse anyway. 

If I had only known then, at ten years of age, what I would know later at eighteen, I probably would have invited Peggy Lou in and tossed my brothers out. 

In last Sunday’s reading from Ezekiel (17:22-24), the prophet writes about restoring the nation of Israel and uses the metaphor of a Cedar tree. In the Gospel reading from Mark (4: 26-34), Jesus tells the parable of the mustard seed.  

Both stories reminded me of my childhood playhouse. Trees produce fruit and provide shelter. Certainly we are all called upon by God to produce “fruit” by the way we use our gifts of time, talent and treasure. Do we produce “good fruit” in the world or do we keep these gifts for our own personal use benefitting no one but ourselves? 

The other questions are “who do we shelter” and how. Simply put, we shelter people by loving them. This love can manifest itself in acts of kindness (what some would call works of mercy) or it may only be a matter of being present to or paying attention to others. 

Figuratively speaking, like my childhood clubhouse, who do we let into our lives and who do we exclude? Who we love is often a matter of what makes us comfortable. Just as we hold on to our “gifts” because it gives us a false sense of security or comfort, we often love first and best those familiar or close to us.  

Loving the familiar, like family and friends, gives us a sense of security. If we love them we assume they will love us back. But what happens when we invite the unfamiliar into our clubhouse? What if we invited someone of a different religion, political party, cultural group, sexual orientation or simply of a different social stratum?

(Jack Jezreel once said we “like to call it the bad part of town because we don’t want to call it what it really is… the poor part of town.”) It’s not going to be comfortable – at least at first. 

God planted the great trees we call “our lives” so that others could be invited into them – to be sheltered, to be cared for, to be loved without exception. 

And just like my clubhouse, everyone should be allowed to enter, even Peggy Lou Signorella.

Dear God: Remind me to always be inviting and to love without exception. 

“When you really know somebody you can’t hate them. Or maybe it’s just that you can’t really know them until you stop hating them.” ~Orson Scott Card (from “Speaker for the Dead”), American author, critic, public speaker, essayist, columnist, and political activist (b 1951)

©2012 Deacon James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by Deacon James E. Carper of Simi Valley, a Deacon in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.