A Friend In A Friend

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountains to which Jesus had ordered them.  When they all saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted.  I do that all the time, the doubting part.  Why?  Then Jesus approached and said to them, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.  Go, therefore, and make disciples … teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.  And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” Mt 28:16-20.  Always?  Does he really mean always, through the infinity of time?

  

I need constant reminders.  The most recent reading on Most Holy Trinity Sunday reminded me of Jesus’ promise lived in the lives of others.

During one summer while in college some time ago, our mission priest, a man ordained of late vocation, compromised in health, invited me to escort him through Europe.  At one point, we traveled through what was East Germany to Berlin, the cultural, innovative heart of Germany.  Following WWII, victors segregated a city reduced to rubble.  A short time later, almost instantaneously, the Eastern Bloc stunned the West by constructing a wall enclosing West Berlin.  Ironically, freedom existed inside the barriers. 

Arriving in Berlin, I climbed to a platform overlooking the wall.  Much to my surprise, the wall was two walls separated by interior landmines and guard dogs on running leashes.  Occasionally, fine trip wires rigged to trigger automatic weapons glistened in the sun.  Horizontal concrete cylinders capped thick vertical walls, making them impossible to climb without some aide.  Painted upon the interior West, graffiti memorialized those who lost their lives failing to escape.  But the math didn’t add up!  I expected far more memorials.  Records documented thousands of East Germans escaping to the West each year.  Surely there had to be many more killings during those attempts. 

Watch towers from the East overlooked (I don’t use the word ‘secured’ because records verified they were anything but secure) the walls’ perimeter.  I’d been told East Germany’s best marksmen manned the towers with precision weaponry.  

I’d planned to enter East Berlin through Checkpoint Charlie, a passage open to U.S., Canadian, and Australian citizens.  To visit the East, I must surrender my passport for a limited hourly visa and exchange twelve W. German marks for E. German currency.  Intimidated to pursue my visit, I entered the “escape museum” across the street from Checkpoint Charlie.  I examined crude tunnel models, swing glides used down cables fastened to tall buildings, hot air balloons constructed of bed-sheets, car side panels and artificial gas tanks constructed to hide children and small adults.  While browsing a book, I discovered a world-renowned photograph that had been enlarged into a poster mounted in the museum.  The photographer captured an East German guard escaping; helmet awry, gun and body suspended in air, frozen in a divine instant.

The author wrote the greatest sin is one’s failure to recognize a friend in a friend. (couldn’t find exact quote, but these words have stuck with me since that day) As I read, the author verified the wall was indeed manned by the East’s youngest and sharpest marksmen.  Citizens attempting to escape were carp in a barrel, easy targets.  Yet, on many occasions when marksmen fired, they often fired errantly avoiding those attempting to escape to the East.  (The math did add up!  Hidden variables!)  For those guards, punishment was severe.  The entire team received prison terms, lost educational opportunities and options to professional careers.  Their families received prison terms and the same lifetime hardships.  The marksmen’s sacrifices, largely unknown to the West, were inconceivable to me.

            I exchanged currency, surrendered my passport and camera, and navigated through Checkpoint Charlie.  I’d been told Western cigarettes and chocolate invited good company.  I quickly exhausted my supply.  Later at dusk, I retraced my steps surrendering my temporary visa to reclaim my passport and camera.  The last gate slammed closed behind me as I returned to the West. I’d been blessed.

The author got it right.  The greatest sin is my failure to recognize a friend in Jesus and others.  When I thought about it, I wasn’t any different than the West Berliners discrediting the Eastern guards.  When I fail to recognize Jesus’ presence to me, I stray.  I dismiss the sacrifices he made and the severe punishment he received costing him his life.  He’s never stopped absorbing.  I see it in the pain others suffer and he lives in them.   He lived in the guards.  Fortunately, he’s good to his promise. “I am with you always!” In my distress, doubts, losses, celebrations, Jesus is there.  He is in the forests and the fresh mountain streams.  He’s in the sun that graces each day.  He’s in my family, friends even in those whom I do not know who pass through my day nameless.  He’s in the air I breath.  He loves me unconditionally … and that’s a wonderful mystery to which I cling!

How do we spend quality time with our Lord and others?  How are we living the promise to be present to our spouses, children, friends?  Are we present to those in need who depend upon us?  How do we react to Jesus’ presence in our friendships, our relationships?  Do we recognize Jesus working in the lives of those we encounter?

Jesus must be incredibly patient when I stray.  I lose him, yet Jesus literally hangs in there with me (look above the altar.  He’s always there) He doesn’t bail on me even when I bail on him.  He’s always inviting, waiting. 

The guards’ sacrifices are well-documented.  Our Lord’s sacrifices surpass documentation, beyond imagination.  Jesus promised!  We are blessed!