The virus
Of hatred
Has spread throughout human history
Denying the humanity of some
So that those deniers could elevate and enhance
Their own status
And their own advantage
In the world.
Some who have been
victims of hatred themselves
Have become perpetrators
While others among those targeted
Have had the ability to empathize
And to begin to understand.
People, however
Are quick to judge
those who speak up
Because they are angry at the growing number
Of victims of hatred and violence
“Your response is wrong.” Others say.
“Your calls for justice and equality
Show your own prejudice.”
“There is not such thing as a peaceful demonstration
If it lead others act with violence.”
I remember...
After the assassination of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
I attended a peaceful, multifaith memorial service.
It was helpful, heartening.
The next day
Reports of riots came through on the radio and on television.
I didn’t understand
That it was an expression of despair
Among people who had no measure of hope
For improvement in their lives.
I was 13 years old then.
I had not heard
what Dr. King had said in 1967:
“Certain conditions continue to exist in our society,
which must be condemned as vigorously
as we condemn riots.
But in the final analysis,
a riot is the language of the unheard.
And what is it that America has failed to hear?
It has failed to hear that the plight of the Negro poor
has worsened over the last few years.
It has failed to hear
that the promises of freedom and justice
have not been met.
And it has failed to hear
that large segments of white society
are more concerned about tranquility
and the status quo
than about justice, equality and humanity.”
In the years since that time,
I have tried to understand,
And to listen
To people of color
In congregations I have served
And to members of the greater community,
partners in interfaith work
Who were my teachers.
Working with one congregant
Who organized local discussions on racism
Grounded in her African-American heritage
And in faith values that direct us towards justice and respect,
Taught me the importance of listening and learning,
Of internalizing all that I had heard—
All of the stories of challenge, of being singled out,
Of Discrimination, and of targeting based on skin color—-
With the hope that hearing those stories
Could lead to action and progress
That could happen through the work of many people,
Including me.
I understand better, now.
I can identify
When I benefit from privilege
And, also
when I run into a brick wall because of who I am.
But I also know
That for many,
There is no space in front of that brick wall.
There is no room to move.
There is only that brick wall
Pressing against them
Which, on some or many levels,
precludes acceptance and respect
And precludes the possibility of hope
That things will change for the better.
At this time,
Another virus is keeping me inside
So I am not outside marching and speaking.
But I am watching,
I am listening,
I am feeling outrage
That our supposed leaders cannot respond to protesters
With even one iota of understanding or human feeling.
They care more about “law and order”
Than about truly listening
to why people are marching
And crying out
In the first place.
So I hear you, and I see you,
Those who are walking together
on the streets of our cities and towns
Every day.
I support you
And when I hold up my Bible
In my own private holy space
And inside my mind and heart,
I am inspired by calls for justice.
I am moved by the command not to harden one’s heart
In the face of another human being.
I am ready
To join other voices and partners
To make it possible, more than ever before
To let justice roll down like waters
And righteousness like a mighty stream.
May those waters
Finally
Provide the cure
For which we have been waiting
For so long.
