And hear the words of today’s Gospel writ in our own context:

“Do you think that because these poorest nations suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all us Americans? No, I tell you; but unless we rethink, we will all become as endangered as they are. Or those 2,600 who were killed when the World Trade Center fell on them or the 174 who were killed here in Washington–do you think that they were singled out as offenders? No, I tell you; but unless we rethink our foreign policy, unless we can see God’s image in every Muslim, in every dispossessed person, in every “enemy,” and love our enemies as we love ourselves, many more of us will perish just as they did.”  

Asked whether he believed in infant Baptism, Mark Twain replied: I not only believe in it: I have seen it happen.  

When Ernest Clay and I married thirty-three years ago, I wrote my parents and told them about him. They wrote back saying they were happy for us but asked me not to bring him home to visit. “We are old,” they said, “and while most of our friends would remain our friends, we don’t want to put them to the test. We have to live here, and you don’t. But we hope you will continue to come to visit us on your own.”

I showed the letter to Ernest. He smiled when he had finished, but said nothing.

“Well, get your things. We’re driving to see them. It’s only 250 miles and we’ll be there before bed time.”

“Didn’t you read the letter?” he asked.

“They wrote that only because they don’t know you yet. When Dad sees how gentle you are, just like Mother, he will fall in love with you; and when Mother sees….”

“Louie, you’re going to see them, but I am not. I respect their wishes. They have a right to their quiet retirement.

“And you’re going to see them, because if you don’t, something very important in you will die. You are able to love me because they loved you. In that way, I get the best of both worlds: I have a good husband and I don’t have to spend time with my in-laws.”

“But….,”

“No but’s about it,” he said. I sulked, but I went.

After several visits, my father said, “Son, I don’t want to hurt you but I probably will because I don’t know how to talk about it except as a man of my generation, a son of one of the poorest counties in Alabama.