It’s
been six weeks since I last wrote a blog entry on April 25. Six more weeks of sheltering at home. As I wrote last time, we have been a
household of 10-11 people, crowded together, with all the joys and tensions
such an extended visit brings. (A visit with limited opportunities to leave
confinement, except for walks in the neighborhood and trips out for
essentials.) Recently, we decided to write a newsletter highlighting some of
our more interesting adventures. This
endeavor is still in process, with headlines such as “Attack of the Giant
Moths,” “Hidden Treasures Found in Garage,” “Cat Causes Chaos,” “Rescue of
Two-Year-Old Audrey Accidentally Locked in Upstairs Bedroom,” and “Battle of the Javelinas and Underwear
Man.” When it is finished, I’ll put a link on my Facebook page.
Like
most people, I’ve experienced a degree of anxiety and have been grieving the
pandemic’s effects on the world and our nation.
I’ve seen the faults and limitations it has revealed in our health care
system, the political manipulation and corrupt response of our President, and the
struggles of public health experts to be heard as they attempted to guide our
response to this unique challenge. The
disproportionate number of deaths from COVID-19 within the African American,
Latinx and Native American populations is shocking. I haven’t been surprised by the competition
between those more concerned with the impact of COVID-19 on the economy and
those concerned with the needs of the community for protection from illness and
help with basic needs. I’ve been impressed by great acts of courage and
compassion as networks of mutual aid have developed in neighborhoods and as
“essential workers” have carried on despite risks of contracting the
virus. I’ve been disappointed by the
selfish disregard of those who would not wear masks and who consider their personal
freedom to be infringed by the protective measures set by governors and
mayors. And I found amazing resources on
the Internet. If you haven’t seen it, I
recommend the You Tube version of “Bolero” produced by the Julliard School of
Music. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqzkn-jX-JU
Then
came the video of George Floyd revealing the all too familiar death of a Black
man at the hands of the police. This
time, it seems to be a tipping point. No
one could justify the action of the police officer who knelt on George’s neck
as he struggled for breath, or the three officers who stood by and
watched. It reminded me of all the other
recent cases of such abuse of power and loss of life. It has made the “Black Lives Matter” movement
gain new allies. It’s focused attention on the many manifestations of racism in
our society: mass incarceration, police
brutality, racial disparities in health care, higher unemployment rates,
greater poverty…the list goes on. As was
happening all over the country and even the world, our family (except me) made
signs, donned masks and joined in a peaceful demonstration. But we know that it is not enough, it is only
a beginning of the accounting and action that must happen before there is any
healing, any change in our system. And
we know that not all demonstrations were peaceful, that they were met by
military-style police response in many communities. But not all.
There were courageous acts of solidarity of protestors and police
officials together in a number of communities including ours. Signs of hope.
As
the unrest settles, I’m left with deep questions about the pervasive racism in
America and our desire to do something about it. How do we begin? What actions can we take? How do we keep the
momentum, when we know that our national response to crises is often short-term
and insufficient? How do we promote
dialogue and repair when the problem is so massive? My son-in-law who directs the Kroc Institute for
International Peace Studies at Notre Dame University hosted a webinar yesterday
on “Race, Violence, and Protest” which was viewed by over 600 people and is
available online. The complexities of
the issues were exposed by the different presenters. I’m afraid that many of us will become so
overwhelmed by the vastness and embeddedness of racism in the fabric and
structure of our society that we will be paralyzed when we most need to be
mobilized. But we must confront the temptation to despair or to allow
compassion fatigue to take over.
I hope
that you might share with friends and family ways you find hope and the courage
to engage in action to dismantle racism and build a more compassionate, just,
peaceful and kind community. We are all in this together, and we need to
support each other as we find ways to engage.
Even
small actions can help. A friend and I
have signed up with a project developed by the NAACP to fight voter suppression
in a state that has “cleansed” their voter rolls. We are sending hand-written postcards with
information alerting the recipient that they may have lost their registration
and giving information on how to check and re-register if needed. For those of us concerned particularly about
racism in our border policies and policing, there are organizations that need
financial support for their ongoing human rights and anti-racism work here in
Arizona.
Perhaps
I should mention my health, since this is a blog about cancer and hope. All is going well. My second Lutathera radiation treatment is
scheduled for next week, and I will give an update after that. I feel well on the whole and am grateful for
my family’s close care and all the prayers and good wishes from friends and my
faith communities. I’ll close with a
prayer:
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Nadia Bolz-Weber’s
Prayer, May 31, 2020
God whose name has been used to enslave
those who bear your image,
God whose name has been used to steal this
land and kill those who bear your image,
God whose name was called upon by Moses and
Miriam and Martin Luther King Jr and Sojourner Truth, Brionna
Taylor and George
Floyd.
God who raised up prophets to speak truth to
power, and poets to speak truth to stupid,
We call on your holy name to give us what we
need to undo what has been done in your name.
We call on your name to bring your fierce
mercy upon us and remove our complacency and our
complicity.
We call on your name to heal the wounds of
those whose daily reality we do not understand.
We call on your name to give us a holy
curiosity about what being Black in America is really like, Lord.
We call on your name to free us from our
cherished notions of being “good” that keep us from hearing this truth,
We call on your name to give us this day our
daily truth, our daily humility, our daily rage, our daily hope.
This country is burning Lord…may is be a cleansing
Holy Spirit fire.
Guide us to believe that the true name
of God is stronger than what has been done in God’s name.
Come, Holy Spirit.
Amen.
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