I don’t know how to write about the grief and anger from Ferguson, New York, Los Angeles, other cities, other places, on and on and on. I don’t know how to add my voice to those who face injustice.
More than forty years ago, I spoke up. I was angry then. I spoke up about injustices to women, to African-Americans, to Latinos, to the people in Central and South America who were killed because of American policies that supported dictators. I spoke up against the war in Vietnam.
After years of protest, I decided I’d no longer man the barricades but would change the world one person at a time, beginning with me. I’d learn how to put down my anger and be at peace and act in a peaceful way towards others. While not always successful, that’s my vision.
I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax, it is melted within my breast…… Psalm: 22
David’s cry is the same cry many of us feel in these times of crises. He feels he’s at the mercy of things he can’t contain. David’s anguish is real. Those families whose children, husband, brothers, fathers have died feel an anguish that’s real.
The anguish I feel at my helplessness is real.
Holy One, let my silent prayers mean something. Let the grief of these times raise a clarion call for justice, for kindness, for respect. Let this journey not be in vain.