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230 ˜ A Work of Hospitality, 1982–2002
the free side of the fence, friends kept walking by, but they were all wearing prisoners’
uniforms, and nobody would look at me or help me. I was alone and separated
from everybody I love. Perhaps Jack sensed my dread, because a few days
before the scheduled visit I received an invitation to a picnic from him. That
lightened my heart, I visited Jack, and we imagined our picnic and laughed and
talked, and I was in touch with my bliss that day. Certainly, Jack’s life on death
row is no picnic, but he has taught me and given me much joy, even in the midst
of pain and suffering. I’m sure that is the kind of happiness Jesus promises if we
follow the mandate he gave on the last Thursday of his life.
As we fast and pray and confess and repent this Lent, let us remember Jesus’
mandate that we wash each other’s feet. Let us look for the places of pain where
we can serve and find our bliss. Let us help the tired, sore, and dirty among us
know the promise of happiness as we soak them, tickle them, rub them, and
make them clean again. “How happy you will be!”
O Sacred Head, Now Wounded, by Elizabeth Dede
F e b r u a r y 1 9 8 8
O sacred head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, thine only crown;
O sacred head, what glory,
What bliss till now was thine!
Yet, though despised and gory,
I joy to call thee mine.
Not too long ago, for our evening’s entertainment, Tim, Dietrich, and I got
together to sing. We enjoyed being with each other, the three-part harmony was
fun, and the attempt at music brought joy to our hearts. For some reason,
though, I kept breaking down at the third line of “O Sacred Head, Now
Wounded”—I couldn’t seem to make it to the glory and the bliss. The musical
line was too difficult for my unpracticed ear.
Perhaps my inability is indicative, though, of the violence, the grief and
shame, that surround us at the Open Door. More often we see despised and gory
heads than blissful ones.