I wish I didn't have to preach this Sunday. The call to try to say something that matters, something that makes a difference, that hasn't already been SAID for God's sake, about the Good Samaritan text is overwhelming. We can say it, live it, do it, breathe it, but it just feels so helpless because NOTHING ever seems to change. What difference does it make? What difference do we make? If you call yourself a person of faith, any faith, surely you too are heartbroken and / or furious at the injustice and violence that have occurred in this country and the world this week. If it does not anger you the way that some who call themselves people of faith are reacting (or not reacting), the I invite you to consider this again: "We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." Elie Wiesel

I am so tired of holding in my anger and my reactions to the violence and hatred that I see ALL OVER the place. I hold back for fear of offending friends or family members, or adding fuel to the fire, or making things harder or uncomfortable for those around me. I'm tired of sharing only lighthearted kitten posts or articles with which no one can really argue on Facebook for fear of the responses anything more substantial will garner from those who follow me. Surely there is a better place for me to process all of this than on the Facebook Stage, but I don't know where that place is. So for now, I will go to the text for this week, Luke 10: 25-37, and I will try to find something fresh and new to say about this story, and I will pray that maybe, just maybe, someone will hear it and be moved to make a difference.

Adam and I have an ongoing conversation about how to respond to injustice. He gets angry, listens to podcasts and follows social media sites that, in my opinion, do nothing more than to incite further anger in him. He gives me (loving) hell about how I can be so calm, so "unconcerned," he says. I tell him over and over that I am not unconcerned, but that I operate from the Starfish method of justice-seeking. It is not enough for him. He wants to do more, do make a bigger difference. He wants a revolution.

I'd love one son, but I can't do it alone. You can't do it alone. We can't do it alone.

But what does it take? What will it take?