Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
The journey into the wilderness
is not about finding ourselves
or even seeking
the meaning of life
It is about opening our eyes
to the world around us
To see the need of our neighbour
To pick up on the unspoken cues
the longing behind the smile
the spark that is no longer there,
extinguished when hope took flight.
It is about recognising our kinship
with the man and his dog
begging on the city steps
or the young woman
sitting in the shop doorway
or the elderly veteran
whose once proud bearing
is now stooped and dejected.
To journey into the wilderness
does not require us to travel far physically
but to take huge steps
in our understanding
of our sisters and our brothers
who make this pilgrimage with us
To bear their burdens
and lighten the load
with love and grace
lived out in mercy and compassion
with steps more faltering than sure
and a hunger born of justice.
Is not this the fast that God chooses?
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