The Hands We Hold
Mother and son - morning walk
I return to the ocean, breathing in God’s presence with the salty air. The ocean calls to me: Remember me? Feel my vastness, my infinite depth, my love that encompasses all of humanity without end.
I watched a mother and her little boy who moved along the sand with a toe-walking gait of someone with cerebral palsy. He held her hand along the shoreline, the gentle waves reaching their feet as they looked for shells. She walked at his pace, letting him let go of her hand to venture forward a few feet, always returning to safety beside her. He was delighted. The beautiful movement of his body struck me; each foot touched the ground at differing angles. He bounced as he walked in a cadence all his own. She bent down to pick up a small shell to show him. He touched it then proceeded forward. Over and over, he took his hand from his mother’s to walk without assistance then found it again – reassurance, confidence she would be there to grab hold of. Their interaction brought me to tears. Tenderness, connection, okay to be who you are, presence of the mother who was never far away.
I noticed other interactions between mothers and their small children. One woman gently coaxed her daughter to walk into the waves, helping her to be brave. Another mom patiently waited for her son to finish his tantrum before leading him away from the water. The mothers calmed, consoled and comforted their children.
Nothing was forced or coerced between mother and child. A loving hand to guide and freedom to experience wonderment at the sea. In whatever way the children responded to the environment, the mothers paid attention and offered their hand to lead them to safety. Their presence exuded tenderness and love as they responded to their children with faithful compassion and unfaltering closeness.
Our Images of God
Take a moment to call to mind the images of God that you hold.
My image of God has enlarged, expanded and evolved as I have grown older. I likened God’s love to the tenderness from my mother. Patient and practical, she always included me in whatever she was sewing, cooking or enjoying. My father’s harshness contradicted my mother’s love, morphing God into a ruler and judge who demanded perfection and obedience. Fear drove me to succeed in school as I avoided making mistakes. Despite my father’s influence, the calm cheer and consolation of my mother’s presence brought me closest to God.
A mother’s love and connection with her child helps us to glimpse the mystery of God’s abiding compassion, generous mercy and inclusive love. Rahum, a Hebrew word that describes God, relays the idea of compassion. Rehem, closely resemblant, refers to a mother’s womb. We see the interplay of compassion and womb. Think of a mother’s tender feelings for her vulnerable infant. Or the woman who walked alongside her son on the beach. The Prophet Isaiah asks, “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you” (49:15).
As I have learned more about my true self in God, my image of God reflects Jesus’ way of encountering others. He touched and healed those on the margins of society, restored wholeness and healing to people so they could return to their communities. He took pity on the crowds who traveled on foot to hear him preach and witness his miracles; he provided an over-abundance of loaves and fishes. He never turned away from these sheep without a shepherd, even sacrificing time alone to pray.
“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…” (Mt 23:37) Describing an image of God that encompasses this love and tenderness, Pope Francis addressed the Church’s failure to treat indigenous people with love and respect in residential schools during his apostolic journey to Canada in 2022. He referred to the damaging image of Jesus that was forced on them. He said:
“Indeed, it may seem easier to force God on people, rather than letting them draw near to God. This is contradictory and never works, because that is not how the Lord operates. He does not force us, he does not suppress or overwhelm; instead, he loves, he liberates, he leaves us free…One cannot proclaim God in a way contrary to God himself. And yet, how many times has this happened in history! While God presents himself simply and quietly, we always have the temptation to impose him, and to impose ourselves in his name.” [bold my own]
If my image of God embraces a God who is loving, merciful, inclusive and expansive, then I am free to take God’s hand confident that I am accepted and understood. As Mirabai Starr teaches, once we discover the God of love, we can fire all the other gods that contradict it.
A careful reading of the Gospels reveal an image of God taught by Jesus that might contradict the images we hold.
The Prosperity Gospel
One prominent image of God in certain circles of the Christian evangelical world holds that God is a giver of abundance and health for all who believe and say it out loud with conviction. Anything short of wealth, health and victory is a result of wrong thinking. This gospel is a means to prosperity.*
Followers refuse to give in to the suffering of this world. Jesus’ death and resurrection guarantees a happy ending for all right-thinking Christians. There is victory over poverty, sickness and suffering. Those who suffer in our midst must look to the good news that proclaims liberty and victory to all who believe. It requires unwavering mind power and unquestionable belief in Jesus.
This prosperity gospel has replaced the “marrow of the Gospel” (a term attributed to St. Francis of Assisi). The core of the Gospel, according to St. Francis, holds that Christ’s suffering and death lifted the veil that separated God from humanity. In Jesus’ humility and surrender on the cross, we find our redemption. God sent his Son out of love and compassion for all of humanity. In contrast, the prosperity gospel’s misguided notions of human flourishing on demand turns our attention away from human suffering and our call to respond with empathy and action.
According to followers of the prosperity gospel, the poor and sick must have faith in order to improve their lives. To have empathy or compassion for those who suffer would mean an acknowledgement that suffering happens in this life and there isn’t always a way to improve it. Yet, God sustains us in our suffering.
There is a danger in the gospel of prosperity seeping into the mindsets of Christians, including some Catholics. Without empathy and compassion for those who suffer, we deny the central message Jesus proclaimed: Love your neighbor as you love yourself.
Voices that Divide Us
The word, empathy, has taken a pernicious turn in our national landscape, influencing some people in a way I believe is contrary to the Gospel. One of the world’s influencers, Elon Musk, said that empathy is “the fundamental weakness of Western civilization” because it can manipulate a society into doing something that isn’t good for them. The propensity to listen to Musk and other voices that divide has led people on the extreme political right in our country to dismiss empathy or compassion as the liberal “woke” agenda. Even when Jesus himself acted out of empathy and compassion for others, the Christian right denies their responsibility to act in a Christ-like way.
In the New Testament, Jesus is moved by compassion (sometimes translated as mercy or pity) at the suffering of others. When teaching the crowds, he told parables and provided sustenance and healing. We see the compassion of a father who welcomes back his wayward son, running to embrace him before the son has a chance to ask for forgiveness. Compassion fills the Samaritan man who stops to care for the victim laying on the road, even when his actions proved shocking.
Without empathy or justice, innocent people are suffering in ICE raids throughout the country. A chaplain at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, Ayman Soliman, is known for his compassionate ministry. He was recently detained by ICE when he showed up for his routine check in at a Homeland Security facility - he was legally granted asylum in the United States in 2019. Now, he is facing the possibility of deportation back to Egypt where he would be arrested, most likely tortured or killed. He is one of many victims in our nation’s political climate that targets foreigners, migrants, the poor and vulnerable.
Our nation’s feet stagger from the gun violence that ended the lives of children while they prayed and a national figure practicing his right to free speech. National leaders resort to words of vengeance, hate and blame. Is it possible to have empathy for people with whom we disagree? Can our compassion reach those whose ideology contradicts the marrow of the Gospel as we see it? Instead of rushing to label someone as a martyr, perhaps we can allow families to grieve and face the reality of an eerie and disturbing national trend to annihilate the enemy. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” Violently gunned down in 1968, he practiced nonviolence, free speech and worked to unify a nation. We must practice empathy and compassion, even as the highest office promulgates revenge and disunity.
Saint Teresa of Calcutta said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” With whatever gait we walk, we can be assured that we do not walk alone. Holding our hand, letting us pull our hand free, ready to receive it again, God accompanies us in every misstep.
How can God’s shocking vastness, immeasurable depth and unfailing love call us to union that reaches beyond our understanding, our willingness and our sight? Perhaps we can take the hand of the One who created all, knowing we can venture away and back again at will. In the spirit of rahum, we are called to heal the world.
Blog Notes:
*For a deeper reading of the Prosperity Gospel, I recommend Kate Bowler’s book: Blessings.
Song for Reflection: “My Brothers Keeper” by India Arie
Questions for Reflection:
Take a moment and reflect on how you would describe God to someone who has never heard of God. Write it down if you can. What are God’s characteristics? Is this a God that has remained with you since childhood? Has your image changed over the years as you have experienced the joys and sufferings of life? Do you cling to an image that keeps God small so God fits into your world? Does your image of God demand perfection in you and in others? Try to recall your image of God without judgement.
How has your image of God changed throughout your life? Has the love of a parent or significant person helped you expand your image to include mercy or unconditional love? Or, without knowing it, have you maintained the image of God that emphasizes judgement, perfection, black and white notions?
Finally, how does your image of God affect your faith life and your relationships with others?
