Where are we headed?

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:

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.