@justtracyjustcause: A Sunday Prof.it Homily The Accomplished Accomplice Question: A Thief, a Saviour and a Murderer Before you tell me what the cross means, tell me what you do with the person hanging on it. Do you ease their suffering—or teach the crowd why they deserve it? Were you there? An old spiritual asks a question that refuses to stay in the past. We know where we imagine ourselves standing: beside the innocent, against the cruelty, ready to speak. Yet somebody supplied the nails. Somebody carried out the order. Somebody watched and called it justice. How did a call to carry one another become permission to crucify each other? Perhaps we should trace it. Thrace. Trace. Tracy. I put my own name into the wordplay. If we are examining complicity, I cannot exempt myself. And there, within the trace: race. An old human habit: sorting people by origin, inheritance and belonging, then treating the categories as evidence of their worth. Whose blood is pure? Who taught you to ask? Blood cannot establish virtue. A family name cannot certify innocence. Neither can a title, a robe, a degree—or a cross around your neck. A thief, a saviour and a murderer: three names for our examination. Before we distribute the parts, we might ask who wrote the programme. The thief may acknowledge what he has done. The saviour may be condemned. The murderer may have official permission. Legality does not settle the moral question. Neither does applause. Enter the accomplished accomplice. Well-spoken. Well-connected. Knows the procedure. Can explain precisely why nothing could be done. The suffering was regrettable. The rules were followed. Responsibility belonged elsewhere. An impressive performance. But whose suffering made it possible? The accomplice need not drive the nail. Sometimes the contribution is an allegation repeated, a humiliation rewarded, a complaint buried, or a door quietly closed. Sometimes it is teaching the injured person to endure more gracefully so that nobody has to confront the injury. Forgive. Submit. Be grateful. There is coercion in making food, shelter, safety or belonging conditional on obedience. There are consequences when resistance costs a person their livelihood, their community or their voice. Then we point to their silence as proof of consent. And call ourselves charitable. Here comes the fac(simile): the likeness that passes for the real thing. The vocabulary of compassion. The costume of humility. The public prayer followed by the private threat. A poser in a position of trust. A hoser with a halo, if you prefer the Canadian translation. Are you following the Saviour—or a devil in disguise? The question requires us to examine conduct, including our own. What happens when someone says no? Can they disagree and still eat at the table? Can they leave without punishment? Does our help give them room to act—or make them dependent on our approval? “Were You There” becomes uncomfortable when the neighbour takes the place of the distant stranger. Were you there when they were humiliated? Did you ask what happened? Did you listen to the answer? Before we congratulate ourselves on recognizing goodness, we should examine what we have helped accomplish. The accomplished accomplice knows all the hymns. The neighbour needs to know: will you help them—or help crucify them? Under One Sky — HOME Truth • Responsibility • Consent • Always. Resonance: “Were You There (When They Crucified My Lord)” and “Kumbaya” — African American spirituals; “(You’re the) Devil in Disguise” — Elvis Presley. Just Tracy, Just ’Cause. Parsimony. Clarity. Virtue. © 2026 Tracy Peressini FOR CONTEMPLATION. ⚖️🦉🪽⚜️ #Love #life #truth #family #peace

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Sunday 18 October 2026 18:03:59 GMT