The following piece is in response to his nephew recounting the horrors of war he saw. March 17th 2026 I posted my Grandson's piece. 

  "To speak in response to such a meaningful piece of personal experience is challenging. 

No wise persons wants to fill the space of suffering with words that might do harm to the sacred suffering in that silence. 

But, something your words brought to my mind and heart was how they reflect what Jesus did. 

He came to that ditch, he was dragged too, and the gospel goes into great detail telling the horror of it all, ending with him being hung up in the air as well. 

It recounts the brutality...the carnage, the blood. It doesn't protect us from the mother's wail, the tears, the soldiers laughing and joking, the indifference, the cowardliness of the disciples and the anger and wrath of it all from various angles. 

It's devastating, and it shaped the souls of those who witnessed it and countless souls of those who heard about it but were never there. Almost all of the apostles died for that witness and in solidarity with it. 

To be a with...is at the sacred heart of vulnerable love. To honor the suffering seen, is done by giving voice to the voiceless. In our humanness we want to raise our hand and give a middle finger to the hell and horror of it all. Jesus holds up his hand too, and it's got a scar from being nailed to the cross. 

We are wounded healers. You are, your sister is, your mother is, your father is...your dear comrades living and fallen are. Thank you for going, for enduring, for suffering, for your witness and for your anger. May its fire form you for greater light and not consume you into a soul full of darkness. 

But we are Moons, not Suns...so at least half the time...we are dark, until the light returns.