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Son of Man: The Morning After…

April 2, 2025

Isaiah 49:8-15 | John 5:19-29 | Psalm 145:8-19

John 5: 27 “… he [God the Father] has given him [Jesus Christ, God the Son] authority to execute judgement, because he is the Son of Man.”

“Son of Man”: that term has long intrigued me. So yesterday I googled it. One source says, “Son of Man means Christ is the supreme example of everything God intended human beings to be. Hmmm.  

But what a way to wake up…. A widow/mother/grandmother and St. Luke’s community member, I faced this morning yet another day with nothing to do on my calendar (except to write this blog which is due tomorrow). Then, over a cup of coffee, my Forward: Day by Day reading reminded me: it’s the morning after. I’m typing this the day after the feast of the Annunciation when Gabriel gave Mary—and me—some incredibly good news. 

Thanks to Mary’s accepting in her womb the Holy Spirit of God the Father, she co-embodied God the Son: alias Jesus Christ, the “Son of Man.” So, after eons of our getting God wrong, we humans were shown (not just told) how God intends each and all of us to be both human and happy.

Maybe it’s time I took seriously what I’m here to be (a child of God), and do, today.

My life (like yours?) is strewn with loose ends: a few regrets, but many latent opportunities (some of which have turned into emotionally unsustainable hooks from which, yes, I’ve learned a little caution). Two popped to mind today; although I’ve acted on both in the same hardly-heroic way, I’ll tell you about one.

Lee is a lady I met while stuffing bulletins at St. Luke’s office a month or so ago. One of so many who’d then lost her identity as a R.I. welfare recipient, she was scared of losing her Social Security check; she was also hungry but, not being an E.G. resident, is ineligible for help from our food pantry. (Jarrett later commended my response to this woman who “basically needs to believe in herself,” so I’ll tell you more about us.) 

That first day I listened to Lee, hugged her, gave her an odd $20 from my wallet, helped her to try in vain a phone number Jarrett recommended and, having exchanged our names and phone numbers, suggested she contact her bank. (Once when scared of being scammed, I learned that as long as I report to the bank within six months any odd or missing transaction, by law the bank must restore my money.)  Lee called me a few days later and, on learning her address, I delivered another hug and about a backpack of food. The last time Lee stopped by St. Luke’s while I was there, she confided that she’s scared of losing her regular mental health counselor; so Suzie and I prayed with her and I pressed an odd $5 in her palm. A week or so ago, when Lee confided by phone that she’s scared to learn the results of a cancer screening, I replied that it’s always better to know the truth. 

Today I called and left her a voice mail: “Hi, Lee. It’s Marie. How are you?” (Hardly heroic, but I’m glad I made the call.)

P. S. When Lee returned my call, I told her the story of my ulcers and another friend’s polyps: both non-cancerous and both cured.  She promised to call me to go with her to her next doctor’s appointment.

I’ve made a friend.

Marie Hennedy