“A boy I love has killed a boy I love”

These are words Father Gregory Boyle used to describe his response to learning of another young man gunned down by a rival gang member. He knew both boys. He loved both boys.

Gang member was secondary. Father Boyle buries boys. He doesn’t bury gang members.

I’ll bet God looks at us like this… not by nation, not by race, not as gang member or terrorist group, religion, denomination, gay, straight, or any other label but the one He gave us. “His children”, and He says the same thing.

A child I love has killed a child I love.

How about when His children hurt one another in His name. Can you imagine? As a mother, I have to make up a scenario using my own children. Feel free to do the same. If my son were to attack my daughter for any reason, and say it was because I told him to, I would be horrified, and extremely grieved at his behavior, and the hurt he caused his sister. This boy I love so much. It would take a lot of work to heal my daughter. To get her to believe again that my love for her is unconditional. Or what if my son were gay and my daughter told him I would never include him in my family until he changed, and worse, if he believed it, I would probably collapse on the floor in despair. After everything I’ve told him. All the love I’ve shown him. For him to believe I wouldn’t love him anymore? For my own daughter to exclude him from our get togethers? Or from my birthday party?

Or if my son decided to become a terrorist. To destroy rather than build. To hate, rather than to love. To kill with his words and his actions. To be the opposite of everything I stand for and believe.

But would I stop loving him? Would I stop waiting for the phone to ring and hear his voice saying, “can I come home?” Would I stop calling him?

Even writing such a thing is too much. I can’t imagine.

Can you? Can you, for one moment, look at ISIS and see a child of God? Could you pray for another woman’s son?

I wonder what would happen if we looked at every one for who they are. If every young girl were our daughter, and every boy our son. Would pornography cease to exist? What injustices would we dismiss as “not our problem”? What bandwagon would we readily and thoughtlessly jump upon?

Who would we kill with our words?

Who would we follow?