Complicity

Okay, we’ve seen enough. In less than two weeks we’ve seen how things will go for four more years: poorly.  How quickly he made America the world’s enemy with his threats intended to terrorize and intimidate. How deftly he became Executioner-in-Chief choking life from infants deprived of formula funded by USAID.

His regime is beyond callous. A parade of supposedly powerful “leaders” rush in to kiss the boots of an unworthy, vindictive man. Their only qualification is loyalty to him. Their only goal is his depraved approval. He’s grabbed the levers of government whether legally or illegally; time, and a few courts, will tell.

Meanwhile, the daily news lands on the floor like shards of broken glass. Nothing is redemptive, hopeful, encouraging. He manipulates the media into chasing whatever crazy declaration was issued last. I’m left to wonder: What to do? How to fight? Who to follow? Here I am, and “who am I to say these things?” Truth is, I was raised to say nothing.

                  “Good girls are quiet girls. We don’t speak too boldly, too loudly, too brashly. We’re discreet (read: silent). That said, my soul has become unhappy in my silence. The truth is not that hard to discern. Silence is troubling in the face of bloody wars, the threat of global environmental collapse, the certainty that there will be another virus, and the uncertainty of the democracy that I previously assumed to be immortal.

                  I’m convinced that it’s time to move out of my uneasy silence and into a public expression of my soul’s desire. If this comes with risk, let the risks be built on truth. I don’t need more than that.

                  I don’t want to embarrass my children or, at some future reading, trouble my grandchildren. But the reasons not to speak out have faded. I long to speak the truth as nearly as I can understand it. I’ve arrived at the point where my silence isn’t discretion. It’s complicity.”

Would someone kindly direct me to The Resistance?

— Excerpt from my forthcoming book, Uneasy Silence – coming soon

Singing a Song of Gratitude

In January, I have a new book coming out, Uneasy Silence: An Activist Seeks Justice and Courage over a Lifetime of Change. The book’s only a little longer than the title. 

A theme that emerged early in writing the book is the vision of what Martin Luther King Jr. called “the beloved community.” In sermons and speeches, from pulpits and prisons, he held out his vision of life lived not for ourselves but for the good of one another. He described a community where justice belongs to everyone, no matter our race or religion or gender, where the immigrant and the stranger are safe and welcome.

King’s vision of a beloved community didn’t die on a balcony in Memphis – it’s stayed alive in the witness of thousands of followers including, memorably, the late Congressman John Lewis. And it speaks to me about the urgency of community following a pandemic of illness, political self-preservation and grim isolation. 

If I sometimes fear we’ve taken a step backward in recent elections, away from the beloved community and toward a nation defined by self-interest, I need to remember that the evidence hasn’t yet been assembled. I don’t help anyone (including me) by living prematurely in the wreckage of the future.

While ruminating about all this, I notice that our annual feast of thankfulness is upon us. It’s Thanksgiving Day again, right on time and never more important.

We have two holidays now, Thanksgiving and Friendsgiving – the latter a call to break out of our isolation and gather with friends who matter to us. It isn’t Norman Rockwell’s tradition. Instead, it’s an opportunity to express our thankfulness for friends and with friends, some of whom may also be family.

If we have it in us, we can move one step beyond thankfulness to gratitude. I’m thankful for something specific like a birthday card or a retirement watch. But when I’m living in gratitude, I’ve taken hold of a life quality that outlasts a moment or an event. Thankfulness is a feeling; gratitude is a choice, more than an emotion. It’s a decision, a commitment to recognize grace in my life.

I’m not sure turkeys can choose gratitude but, if they can, I’m pretty sure they’re grateful for vegetarians. Me? I’m grateful that I have people in my life who I genuinely love, and who love me in return. I’m grateful for my grandson’s hug, my granddaughter’s giggle, and the soft gurgles of their newborn brother. I’m grateful to be alive after some pretty close calls. I’m grateful for the right to vote, grateful for those who voted differently and want to live in harmony with me anyway.

We live in a time of extraordinary differences. At one extreme is Dr. King’s “beloved community.” At the other extreme are dehumanizing brutalities endured by Afghan girls and women who, if caught singing in public, will suffer flogging and being stoned.

I’m grateful that the dream of Dr. King’s beloved community has not died. I’m grateful for those who will risk safety and status to defend justice and integrity. Tonight I’m going to heed Maya Angelou’s advice to “let gratitude be the pillow upon which I kneel to say my nightly prayer.”

When I wake tomorrow, to honor my sisters in Afghanistan, I’m going to sing while I make my morning coffee, sing while I drive to my first appointment, sing while I prep the turkey and the cranberry sauce.

I’m choosing to be grateful and, even if a little off-key and humbling, I’m going to sing about it.

Ordering up a Helping of Hatred

It was doubly crazy. First, it was a crazy idea that Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio were slaughtering people’s pets and eating them. C’mon, folks; that’s crazy. But then came the even more unbelievable story: Donald Trump with his sidekick J.D. Vance apparently believed the lies – at least, they believed the zany concoction was worth repeating, and repeating, and repeating – that’s really crazy.

“In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs. The people that came in [from Haiti], they’re eating the cats. They’re eating the pets of the people that live there. This is what’s happening in our country. And it’s a shame.”

There’s plenty of shame involved with this lie, alright, but the shame doesn’t belong to hard-working Haitian immigrants, most of whom have contributed to a revival of economic hope in Springfield. The mayor of the city and other Ohio leaders couldn’t debunk the story fast enough. But shutting down the lies is harder than making them, and the shame in this account belongs to Trump and Vance.

In repeating and exaggerating their lies, Trump and Vance knowingly lit a fire of dishonesty and potential violence that can’t be extinguished. The Haitians are described as “dangerous.” The implication is that Haitians have acted violently, thereby earning some violence in return.

“They’re at the highest level of criminality,” shouted Trump. And then he made the charge that he was wanting to make all along: “We have to get them out. We have to get them out fast.” Don’t stop to think. Don’t find out what’s true and what’s not. Don’t get slowed down by any sense that violence is wrong. It’s the “get’em, get’em all and get’em quick” mandate from Trump.

It’s impossible for me to hear Trump’s call to get rid of these people without, at the same time, hearing the shuffling boots of Nazi enforcers coming for those hated by Hitler. Trump loved the lie about the immigrants because it justified his call for hatred. It’s all about hating, and recruiting others to hate as well. He would like some willing “patriots” to erase an American community of Haitian immigrants. We only need to look back as far as January 6 (2021) to know there are thugs who’d love to do the job at his suggestion. As surely as Hitler’s troops herded up Jews (among others) for the ovens, and as surely as the Jim Crow south used lynchings and bombings to instill fear among the innocent – so surely does Trump want us to round up law-abiding Haitian immigrants and remove them from our shores.

I’ll never get the media audience drawn by Trump and Vance. Frankly, I don’t want it. But for a moment I wish my nation’s people would stop, listen, think and know that what we need is not more hatred fueled by lies. I wish the media which broadcast the lies would give as much time and space to proving the lies false and taking away the power of hatred being spewed by Trump and his lackies.

Good grief, friends, isn’t it clear that what we need is NOT more hatred?

What we need is a greater sense of service to our neighbors, no matter the color of their skin or the place of their birth. On my worst days, I fear that lies will prevail and innocents will be targeted. On my better days, I’m convinced that we are a nation longing to be brought together. I’d love to see the evidence that supports my hope, evidence that would roll in with acts of kindness, compassion, respect, and love.