My Heart Aches

And Then the World Opens Up Again

My heart aches. Almost all the time.

Even when I see bluebirds on a wire while I’m walking our dogs on a gorgeous, cool summer morning in the safe neighborhood where I live before going home to a breakfast of oatmeal with blueberries along with strong coffee and a good article to read, my heart still aches.

My heart aches because even in those calm times for me, there is a simmering awareness that Mexican immigrants just like the ones who installed carpet at our church last week are being apprehended by ICE. My heart aches because hard-working asylum seekers (like the ones I met last year) languish in Geo Group detention camps without due process.

The image we saw this week of a Black woman on a DC train surrounded by white nationalists on July 4th scares me. It doesn’t take much to notice how freakishly hot the weather is in so many places, causing drought and abnormal rainfall in equal measure. 100-year events seem to be occurring about twice a year now.

My heart aches because I know the historical wrongs of the USA but hoped we were learning, or at least that we would learn, as we marked a 250th anniversary. We actually know better. Unfortunately, the “we” who know better do not have the power of government or oligarchy behind us right now, so my heart aches.

And then it happens. Something shifts. Possibility arises.

On Tuesday there was a press conference on the Minnesota State Capitol steps with dozens of clergy from different traditions. As Minister JaNae Bates Imari prepped the group there on that already hot and humid day, her eyes twinkled as she said, “Praise God! The sun is coming out just now!” I love snarky irony clothed in clerical garb.

As she spoke, she shared about the reason for our gathering as part of Team Democracy. Clergy across various traditions all came to express the need for free elections, and what a sacred task voting is. We were committed to standing together in protecting the sacred covenant.

A Jewish rabbi spoke about what it was like after the September 11th attacks, and while there were those who sought to foment division, there were also ads showing people of every shape and faith and background saying, “I am an American.” His voice caught for a moment. E pluribus unum - out of many - one. In our manyness of faiths, we express a oneness of purpose!

A Black Muslim imam spoke powerfully about the dignity of every person, and the sacred task of ensuring that every eligible person be helped to vote. He gave voice to the unity we clergy want to show around our Somali neighbors in Minnesota as the present administration attacks that community without justice. And how no entire group should be judged by the actions of a few, but rather seen with the whole and the uniqueness inherent to our being created in God’s love.

A Lutheran bishop spoke from her tradition about the Lutheran question of “does this serve the neighbor?” She led us in a call and response of “does it serve the neighbor for ICE to instill fear? No!” And “does it serve the neighbor to help everyone gain access to democracy and representation? Yes!” Back and forth she called us to make the point that our various faiths are concerned not just for ourselves but for the well-being of our neighbors, especially the vulnerable.

A Black African Methodist Episcopal pastor called to mind the cost that his ancestors and others suffered in Mississippi as they danger simply in trying to vote. He recalled how at the end of the Selma march in 1965, Martin Luther King gave his speech with the “How Long? Not Long!” rhythm, and how King quoted from an old woman who was marching that long way. She famously said, “My feets is tired but my soul is rested.” He resounded that so many of us are tired of the onslaught on democracy and our society - but also how our souls find rest together.

My heart aches, but the world opens up again. A group at church is setting up tomorrow for a funeral and luncheon here to surround the grieving family with care. A neighborhood community group met yesterday to find a way to support immigrants with rental and legal fees in this challenging landscape. Gardeners harvest vegetables in the church backyard to share with Loaves & Fishes. Singing Resistance gathers to - what else? - sing. And the world opens up again.

In a culture that prizes convenience and individualism, I keep learning the slowness of good change. My heart learns that measure bit by bit. My heart discovers how positive change happens at the speed of relationships. My heart expands watching people build community because that will “save” us (in whatever that means). My heart learns to hold ache and comfort at the same time.

My heart aches - and still the world opens up. Maybe that is how humanity rises in these days.