From Sunday's gospel: The rulers sneered at Jesus and said, 'He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God.' Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, 'If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.' Above him there was an inscription that read, 'This is the King of the Jews.' Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, 'Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.' The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, 'Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.' Then he said, 'Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.' He replied to him, 'Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.'"
The Apostolic Nuncio (the Pope's ambassador) to the United States spoke the American bishops a week ago today, primarily about youth. While his address was extensive, this portion captured my attention: "The fact that we go to them to listen is an acknowledgment of their existence as true members of the Church. It is an important dimension of affirming their dignity. Young people have a strong need to be heard, to be recognized as persons, and to receive a personal response. In this dialogue, young people learn to journey in faith with others" (emphasis mine). This is a reminder to us as well. The General Council writes in Lasallian Reflection 2 (2016-2017) that our Lasallian history and spirituality calls us always to be in dialogue with the poor, to enter into "the difficult conversations" with them (Lasallian Reflection 2, p. 5). But there can be no dialogue, no conversation, unless we give a personal response to what we hear.
What is the nature of this response? The gospel shows us. It is immediate. Jesus does not promise the criminal something in the indefinite future. The promise of paradise will be carried out that very day. It ignores the voices of the powerful in favor of the marginalized. All around, the soldiers and rulers are mocking Jesus. Jesus does not engage with them, but focuses on the plea of the one who finds himself, with Jesus, in as marginalized a place as Roman law could place him. It is merciful. The second criminal acknowledges his need for mercy, and it is given in abundance.
We respond daily to the young, the poor, who are entrusted to our care. Is our response immediate? Does it give preference to the needs of those who are on the margins in the situation? Does it show mercy?
Live, Jesus, in our hearts!