Lisa Bowden

Jesus said to the crowds, “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder;’ and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.

So when you re offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hadn’t you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown in to prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.”
—Matthew 5:21-26

Dear Siblings,

Recently on silent retreat in a monastery in Santa Fe, the priest paused his instruction to tend a spider on the floor. He said, “be careful, there’s a very small sister near you.” A resident swiftly got up from her cushion, slipped a note card underneath the black widow, and carried her outside. I was reminded that his vow to “do no harm” extended to all living beings, across species. I was also impressed that he took in a tiny moving spot on the floor in the middle of teaching. 

In Matthew today, God instructs us to maintain peaceful, right relationships, lest we put us all in great peril. Our Indigenous brothers and sisters uphold the interconnectedness of everything and everyone in the beautiful and profound phrase “All My Relations.” 

My heart goes to our two pet rabbits we just lost to the violence of wild nature that found us in suburban downtown Tucson. We buried the sisters in the backyard wrapped in old cotton with the lettuce and fresh herbs they didn’t eat for breakfast. A grip of creosote and topping the mound of dirt now above them. My daughter mentioned that night something about their resurrection. I took a few seconds to imagine it myself, then we all talked about them being reunited in (pet?) heaven with the other finned and furred family we’d lost. She asked if we could put them on the parish prayer list. Though I told her I was pretty sure that was for people, it was neither comforting nor made sense in that moment. We had lost relations. 

My practices for peace with others in all forms is ongoing hard and humbling work of the heart of the highest order. I cannot just “defend” my heart from the darker slippery slopes, but I need all manner of skills, including staying with vulnerability at the hardest of times—being undefended. 

I find it a Herculean practice as someone born at the bottom of a sibling heap and a career justice fighter. So, I pray, meditate, bless those who cause harm, are difficult, make me find breath.

God asks us to swiftly reconcile when we are angry. It’s a tall order, sometimes easier with God than in person.

I find heart in First Corinthians—love holds “no record of wrongs.”  

Sometimes holding that truth is the seed in need of water.

In beloved community,

—Lisa