One Messy Human Family
David Kelly • March 14, 2022

In honor of celebrating our 20th Year of PBMR,
we have been going through old photographs from over the years. Some of those pictures bring back memories of pivotal moments
– moments which capture the heart of who we are at PBMR. Reflecting on how far we have come and how we have grown, I believe that a good deal of that is because from the very beginning we embraced the attitude and value of being a learning community.
I believe we were able to grow by being open to new ideas without losing sight of our call – to be ambassadors of Reconciliation.
My work in Cook County Juvenile Temporary Detention Center has been a constant commitment
throughout the years. It has been a cornerstone of learning
for me, and for what I am able to bring to PBMR. In fact, it was through the young voices in Cook County Juvenile Detention where Sr. Donna was first called to reach more deeply to the mothers of children who are incarcerated and whose life was taken by violence.
Last Sunday, as I entered the intake unit of Juvenile Detention (where new kids to the facility are housed) I heard my name being called
from behind one of the cell doors. As I approached, I recognized the young man immediately. He had been there a few times before. He had gotten into a bit of trouble, so they had him behind a closed door - confinement. If I was to visit, it had to be through the door. He had look on his face that demonstrated that he was disappointed in himself for not staying out of detention. As we spoke, we began talking about why he came back. His is a litany of trauma: shot twice, locked up four or five times, mother not in his life – at least not in a good way, and lacking any real male role model. He told me stories of abuse and neglect that made me wonder how he made it as far as he did. He was open and revealing about his life, but soon the words gave way to tears—tears from hurting, tears from being hurt.
I have been thinking of him a lot since that moment. His story is so familiar; a story I hear too frequently.
The following day, I had a meeting with someone who worked for the State of Illinois. She was working on legislation to combat the carjacking and gun violence. There is a strong push to transfer children into adult court – it is the call to “get tough on crime”. As she spoke of her desire to understand
what was behind the increase in carjackings and gun violence, I told the story of this young man. After hearing his story, she began to tell her own story
of her child who needed mental health services. She told of how she did everything in her power to get her child the help he needed. Thankfully, she had the resources and relationships to ensure her son had what he needed. “I cannot imagine mothers who don’t have the resources that I have and how they are able to get the help they need?”
So often, what happens when you sit in these spaces –whether it be around a kitchen table or behind the locked door of a cell
– is that we begin to get a glimpse of the complexities of things. We begin to learn and understand that the person is much more than an issue to be tackled. We begin to see our shared humanity
in one another.
And what is it to be human? I believe it is to be a part of a family—one that is imperfect, yet so capable of love.
All of us have been both victim and offender in this human family, yet neither our wrongdoings nor our wounds can define us. I cannot put on the mantel of being a victim as though that is who I am now—I do not deny my suffering and hurt, but I am more than my pain and loss. Equally, I cannot allow any singular act to define who I am as a person. One who steals is not a thief, one who kills is not a murderer. It doesn’t discount the harm done; it demands accountability, but in the end, are we not still members of this family?
Our Christian theology gives us the language and imagery we need to hold this tension. In Genesis (1:26), we hear that we were all created in the image of God, an identity that remains
even after the fall of creation. No matter how bruised we get or how far we stray, God never stops calling us beloved children. In the New Testament, Paul writes (Romans 3:23)“… all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”—none of us are above the need for mercy, healing, and forgiveness. None of us is above or below the other—we are equals—sinners and saints alike. One messy human family deeply loved by God.
We are not as different from one another as we so often think. Wherever we are, whatever we are carrying, we can learn to see a bit of ourselves in one another, and remember that we belong to each other.
And slowly but surely, we can recognize the goodness in one another and offer the mercy, forgiveness, and healing that we all require.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Contact: Davon Clark, Communications Manager Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation dclark@pbmr.org At Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation (PBMR), we are rooted in the belief that every person is created in the image of God and deserving of dignity, safety, and belonging . In this moment of heightened fear and uncertainty following the deployment of federal agents and National Guard troops in our city, we reaffirm our steadfast commitment toward those values. Our dignity and sense of safety should never be determined by our legal status . We know from experience that true safety does not come from the sword, but from the relationship we forge with one another. Our communities long for peace, but a peace that is built through trust, opportunity, and a sense of belonging . The increased militarization in our neighborhoods risks deepening fear and trauma among families already struggling to heal from generations of violence, poverty, and marginalization. PBMR stands in solidarity with all who seek justice and peace through nonviolence, dialogue, and accompaniment . We will continue to open our doors to those in need and walk alongside our neighbors, especially those most marginalized. We call upon all leaders to remember the sacred dignity of every person, to act with compassion and restraint, and to prioritize approaches that restore rather than divide. Together, we can choose a path rooted not in fear, but in unity and the wellbeing of every person . ##
I used to joke that when Sr. Donna retired, she’d have one final Mother’s Circle, in which she'd move from mother to mother, laying hands and pronouncing, “healed.” And it would be so. My time as a Precious Blood Volunteer at PBMR had ended before that bittersweet day came, so I guess I can only presume that that’s not what happened at that last gathering. But one of the things that PBMR taught me was that this vision of a quick fix does a disservice to the beauty and profundity of the healing journey. A conversation with Catherine, a mother in PBMR’s Family Forward program, played a key role in shaping that understanding. I interviewed Catherine as a part of producing the first season of PBMR’s podcast, Together We Heal , which gave me the opportunity to interview multiple mothers involved in Family Forward. We'd originally met at PBMR’s Spare Some Love Bowl-a-Thon. We were on the same team, but amid the strobe lights and ultraviolet glow of the alley, the conversation and clamor of the surrounding lanes, and the constant rotation of turns as we played, we hadn’t talked much. We met to record in PBMR’s music studio: a cozy space with blankets on the ceiling that help prevent echoes. I had DIY-ed a podcast set-up, placing two microphones on the small circular table that was in the room and placing foam panels between them for sound quality (and, if I’m being honest, aesthetics). When we sat down, I started recording, welcomed Catherine to the show, and asked how she became involved with Family Forward. This introductory question, meant to ease us into the conversation, plunged us into heavier topics when Catherine responded by explaining that her son had been shot (thankfully, he survived). That story, though, was paired with a recounting of the accompaniment she received from PBMR, and the themes of love and community continued throughout the interview. You can listen to our conversation here .

In the afternoon of August 27th, after a gunman opened fire on students and staff of Annunciation Catholic School, where 2 children were killed and 18 children and 3 adults (in their 80’s) were wounded, the principal of the school took the microphone. You could feel the impact of what had just happened in his words; his voice quivered with deep emotion as he spoke. He quoted an African proverb: “when you pray, move your feet.” I am guessing in his heart were the countless individuals and communities who reached out to express their prayers and thoughts. I am guessing, too, that he chose that quote to express his deep desire that, while prayers and good thoughts are important, action is needed. The gun debate comes up each time there is a tragedy such as the Annunciation school shooting. There are those who want to limit gun purchases with background checks and limiting access to assault weapons and the like. Others don’t feel guns are the issue at all. In fact, there are calls for more guns: arming teachers, armed security guards in schools, etc. And while this debate continues, children ready themselves with shooter drills, and administrators fortify the school. I am sure many parents have hard conversations with their children. Amid it all, little is done. In the time since starting this reflection two more shootings have taken place at schools in Colorado and Utah. There will be another shooting, and the debate will ignite once again. Recently, I attended a trial of two young brothers accused of killing a mother of two small children. The trial lasted four days and the family of the young woman killed heard the detailed description of the killing. The pain of losing their daughter, sister and mother was engraved on their faces. The young men sat quietly as they were portrayed as heartless killers. In his book Cherished Belonging , Fr. Greg Boyle SJ writes, “surely we can hold something as horrible and not make monsters out of anyone.” He goes on to say that we do not make progress when we demonize. As I sat in that courtroom, the pain of what happened filled the room. The tear-soaked faces of both the families were visible. Both families suffered. The devastation was palpable. The young men received their sentences: 34 years for the young brother who was not convicted of the shooting and 60 years for the older brother. The courtroom emptied in silence. Both families left to deal on their own with the devastation of losing their loved ones. Precious Blood spirituality calls us to stand amid such pain, tension and conflict and not give in to hurling stones at one another. The power of the spirituality of the Precious Blood is that we can hold that pain without inflicting more pain. When we are willing to hold the pain or the conflict and treat one another with respect – even while we strongly disagree – there is a possibility of positive action. Answers may not come easily, but a pathway forward becomes more visible. It may take longer than we are comfortable with, but if we tend to the relationships and not just hold on to our side of the issue, ways forward become possible. Nathaniel Samuel reminds us in his book, “When Stories Wound,” that we have always had strong disagreements. There has always been polarization in society, but what has changed is the narratives we create around the ones we disagree with. Today, more than ever it seems, we dehumanize the other side, thus making it easier to do them harm. Stereotypes deny the complex story that each one of us carries. Samuel reminds us that deep narratives make their appeal not just to our minds, but more importantly to our emotions. He says that strong feelings like anger, suspicion, denial and hate emerge. Precious Blood spirituality is a spirituality of interconnectedness. When one suffers, we all suffer. It calls us to seek first understanding and relationship and then, and only then, break open the pathway forward. Fr. David Kelly, C.PP.S. Executive Director, Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation

Along with many others around the world, PBMR is saddened by the death of Pope Francis. His example and unwavering love and support of the poor and marginalized of the world will remain with all of us as an example of faithful living. Especially close to his heart were incarcerated men, women and children. While we will miss his tireless advocacy of the marginalized, his example should be a call to all of us to stand for those who are most vulnerable.

Recognizing the inherent dignity of each person, The Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation (PBMR) stands with all people advocating for the rights of immigrants and asylum seekers. We believe in the humanity and goodness of all people and continue to work to build a greater understanding and stronger relationships between people and the community. I recall the words of Cardinal Blasé Cupich who reminds us that many of, if not most of, the residents of Chicago were once immigrants. He writes, “We are proud of our legacy of immigration that continues in our day to renew the city we love. This is a moment to be honest about who we are. There is not a person in Chicago, save the Indigenous people, who has not benefited from this legacy.” We call on all those in positions of power and all of us to act with compassion and recognize humanity in each other. We ask policy makers and government officials to remember their call to protect the most vulnerable in our community including immigrants and their families. We pray for all those who are scared, lonely, and afraid that they find comfort and hope. Together let us work toward a more beloved community. Together let us take a step closer to the Kingdom of God, where all are welcome. Fr. David Kelly, C.PP.S. Executive Director Further Reading: Resources for Migrant Families in Chicago Statements from Cardinal Blasé Cupich, Archdiocese of Chicago Statement of Solidarity from United States Conference of Catholic Bishops

Surely, we can all agree that we live in a divided nation and, unfortunately, an often times divided Church. No matter what side of the fence you are on, you can feel the stress and strain of a world at odds – divided. Truthfully, I have stopped watching much national news because there seems to be a market for bickering and name calling. We have always had diƯering opinions and beliefs, but it seems the language, which so often leads to action, has become more violent. I write these words on the day in which we celebrate the legacy and teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. King didn’t just teach a strategy of peacemaking and nonviolence, his life demonstrated the power of, and a commitment to, the principle of nonviolence – a spirituality of peacemaking . His life reflected the African principle of “ubuntu” – I am what I am because of who we all are.” I am reading Fr. Greg Boyle’s new book, Cherished Belonging, the Healing Power of Love in Divided Times. In it he says that there are two principles that undergird his work: 1) Everybody is unshakably good (no exceptions) and 2) We belong to each other (no exceptions.) He says that these two principles help us to roll up our sleeves and get things done. I have had the privilege of working in both the Cook County Juvenile Detention Center and jail here in Chicago for well over 40 years. In that time, I have sat with many individuals who have committed horrible acts of violence. I have also regularly sat with families and persons who have experienced great harm, horrible acts of violence against them. Many never recover from the trauma. When I go to court, I have a front row seat of a system that embraces an adversarial stance and sees the world as black and white: good - bad, right - wrong, winner - looser. And when all is said and done and the courts have had their say, those impacted are left find their own way through the pain and trauma . You can see it as they leave the courtroom. I have also had the privilege of being in spaces where those harmed sit with those who did the harm – from simple property cases to homicide. I have seen what can happen when there is an emphasis on relationship and wholeness verses punishment and isolation. When we see one another as God sees us – son/daughter, sister/brother, we begin to make our way toward healing and understanding. Fr. Greg Boyle says, “Surely we can’t we hold something as horrible and still not make monsters out of anyone.” “Demonizing”, he says, “keeps us from solutions”.iii It seems that during these times, both in our nation and in our world, we need to reflect upon the notion that we belong to one another. That a harm to one is a harm to all of us. We need to stop demonizing one another and come up with solutions. Last night I was in the Juvenile Detention Center and, as I often do, asked a young man what community he came from? He hesitated, so I asked again thinking he didn’t hear me. Again, he hesitated and then shared with me that he was homeless and so bounced from one place to another, house to house whoever would allow him to sleep on a couch or on the floor – until, of course, they grew tired of him. The answer to my question was that he came from no community. This is what happens when we are so busy placing blame and demonizing one another. This can only happen when fail to each person as unshakably good; it can only happen when we fail to believe that we belong to one another. We enter the Jubilee Year of “Pilgrims of Hope”. As a people, as community, as a congregation, let it be more than a slogan. Let it be our commitment. No exceptions.