Every Wednesday and Sunday, I worship with folks living on the most ragged edges of society. Those of us with shelter hold the blistered hands of the unhoused. Those of us who eat three meals a day, take Communion from the hungry. Those of us whose voices command authority in the world, sing beside those which have been dampened, discarded or asked to not be heard.
As I spend a good portion of my days within the world of social media, I am constantly exposed to the outrage directed towards the current administration. Not that the outrage is unjustified, but I often think to myself, — Of all the people who could rightfully complain about the atrocities of this administration, it is so many of our Haywood Street Friends. It is the heroin addict who will not receive treatment becuase of a not-quite-universal healthcare system. It is the undocumented immigrant having to navigate new and epic levels of fear. It is the trangender woman having to defend her status as human and the brown boy who is learning to not make waves in order to simply stay afloat. Of all the people who have the right to retaliate with hate and rage, it is them.
But almost every Wednesday and every Sunday, something miraculous happens. As we speak our prayers aloud, I hear atleast one voice from the pews…from the margins…from the worn and ragged edge say, “Let us pray for our administration. That out leaders may find peace within themselves.”
Hate is a recycled product. It is mass produced and has top notch marketing strategists to support its distribution. There’s a wide variety of packaging and knockoff brands; it is actually availbale most places for free. And if anyone could use something for free, it is the people in our congregation who continue to boldly and compassionately pray for the love and support of our leaders. But, they don’t take it. Becuase although free, hate is heavy and our friends simply have no place to keep it.
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Every Wednesday and Sunday, I worship with folks living on the most ragged edges of society. Those of us with shelter hold the blistered hands of the unhoused. Those of us who eat three meals a day, take Communion from the hungry. Those of us whose voices command authority in the world, sing beside those which have been dampened, discarded or asked to not be heard.