A Spirit-led entry into the heart of the other
Something weird happened to me Sunday morning. I was preaching at the 8:00 AM in Spanish. Right in the middle of the homily the Holy Spirit shook me awake.
The gospel I used is sometimes called “The Little Apocalype.” (Lk 21:5-19). Jesus talks about the end times: the religious center will be destroyed, nations will be at war, plagues and famines will roam the land, rulers will silence dissident voices, and families will turn on each other.
I thought I would use this as a backdrop to dial back the rhetoric that is creating so much division. Above all, to encourage people to listen to the voice of the Good Shepherd and not the clamoring voices on YouTube, FaceBook, and network news. (Full text: The Good News in the Little Apocalypse)
When I write a homily, I usually imagine a few people who might need to hear this message. For this, I imagined a couple of specific people in the English-speaking community who have strong opinions on both sides of the issues facing society and the church.
I did not consider how this message would be received by a Hispanic population, many of whom feel firsthand the ‘end times’ Jesus described. ICE raids are ramping up in Charlotte. Angry voices seem to be turning the tide against immigration reform. Feelings toward immigrants are souring. Families are being torn apart. Voices of reason are being silenced.
When preaching in Spanish, I need to be much more attentive to the pronunciation. It’s hard for me to make much eye-contact, which limits my ability to ‘read the room’.
In the middle of the homily, hyper-focused on pronouncing the words right, a stink bug landed on my homily. You could read this a number of ways. Whatever the deeper significance, it caused me to pause.
In that moment, I was hit with a shockwave of emotion. I stopped worrying about my competency and started worrying about the people who were listening to me. I lifted my head and looked around. I felt like a prairie dog, popping up out of its hole and seeing a new and unfamiliar terrain. Some of the people before me were living in fear and hanging onto every word I said. Tears came to my eyes.
I thought I was preaching a message to dial back the divisive language to the English-speaking congregations. The Holy Spirit, however, used me, an old white guy, to deliver both a prophetic message and a message of hope to about 300 Hispanics. It was humbling to say the least.
It deepened the lesson I gleaned from the gospel. Rather than focus on what I’m going to say, and how I’m going to say it, I should peer deeply into the landscape of the other’s heart, and trust that the Holy Spirit will provide the words and the wisdom.
