The offering

The Offering

The Buddha said:

The root of suffering is attachment.

And how tightly we cling—

to our place,

to our power,

to our polished self-image.

We fear the letting go.

We fear the fall.

We fear the hollow ache

where certainty once lived.

So we grip tighter still,

even as the world burns,

even as our neighbors weep,

even as the empire grows fat

on the backs of the broken.

We tell ourselves:

“Be at peace.”

“Stay calm.”

“Don’t make trouble.”

But peace built on silence

is no peace at all—

only the hush before the hammer falls.

And so we read the Gospel,

“Greater love has no one than to lay down their life for a friend.”

But we misunderstand.

We think it means to submit,

to be silent,

to go along for the sake of harmony.

But true love is not submission to power.

True love is resistance with an open heart.

True love names the wound.

True love refuses to normalize hate.

True love stands in the fire and says:

“This ends with me.”

Jesus did not die to secure our comfort.

He did not bleed to buy us heaven

while we hoard the world’s riches

and watch the poor grow silent.

He laid down his life

to call us into the same holy surrender.

Not surrender to empire—

but to the truth that

we are not the center.

We are part of a larger whole,

and our lives only gain meaning

when offered for the sake of others.

So let us lay down

our need to be important,

our craving for acceptance,

our illusions of neutrality.

Let us detach from

the stories that keep us safe,

and walk forward—barefoot,

with hands open.

Let us become the offering.

Not for glory.

Not for guilt.

But because there is no other way

to set the captives free