When our daughter was about eleven, she was invited to play "Classic"-level soccer, a bump in commitment of which we were all a bit wary. But we decided, collectively, to give it a try. When the team's only trained goalie was injured, our kid sported the "team player" attitude we'd promoted and ended up in goal. I vividly recall the experience, and it wasn't pretty. With no training, she was simply unable to stop the other team's rapid-fire assaults. The score hit double digits. Her teammates yelled at her; from the sidelines, their parents yelled at her. She cried; from the sidelines, I cried. With everything in me, I wanted to scream at the coach, "Take her out! Put me in her place!"
Silly example, I know. But even on a pre-teen soccer field, I felt in my gut the impulse to protection that Judah voices in today's reading. You probably know it too. A loved one suffering with cancer or grief. A friend facing challenges that seem to add up to double digits. We see their powerlessness, and we want to do something. "Take her out! Put me in her place!"
In a way, it's an impulse that captures the heart of Christian life. After all, we claim as Lord one who refused to take a bail-out and instead absorbed all of the kicks-on-goal the Romans had to offer. In utter solidarity with human suffering, he modeled a way of life—and sacrifice—that still brings life today. In a sense, Judah offers to "deny himself, to take up his cross" in order to set Benjamin free and thus preserve Jacob's life. What a way to live.
- When has another's pain and grief led you to offer yourself in some sacrificial way?
- How has solidarity with another's suffering brought life—to them, or to you?
- What other details did you notice in today's reading?
Prayer: Thank you for hardwiring us, O God, as creatures of compassion. Help us to see places today where we might offer ourselves, and so bring your life. Amen.
Breath Prayer: Please let // your servant remain.
