For my friend Aaron.
Blessed are the losers.
Blessed are those who can’t catch a break. Blessed are those who fight and fight and never get ahead, who feel the riptide pulling them backward no matter how hard they swim. Blessed are the Sisyphean.
Blessed are those who are too tired to fight, who feel the waters closing over their heads. Blessed are the drowning.
Blessed are the lonely, the forgotten, the invisible.
Blessed are the empty.
Blessed are those denied a seat at the table. Blessed are those who long to be seen, admitted, accepted, welcomed.
Blessed are those who know that if a table is closed to the marginalized it is not a table of communion but of the money changers. Blessed are those who overturn the tables.
Blessed are the wounded. The beaten-down. The jaded and the cynical. The anxious and the hurt and the angry. Blessed are the bitter.
For theirs will be peace. Theirs will be rest and quiet. Theirs will be family and welcome and, at last, joy. For they will be known, and they will be accepted. They will be filled.
Blessed are the losers, for they will be loved.