This morning I searched my hard drive for photos tagged "hope" and came across this, snapped years ago in a Mission District yard. (As always at this blog, click to enlarge.)
Later, in that strange experience which is Zoom church with the congregation of St. John the Evangelist, we were discussing the meaning of the injunction "love your neighbor as yourself."
I will never accede to the misbegotten notion that this universal ethical axiom means to forgive without calling out cruelty and viciousness. There's nothing wrong with rage at the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd and so many othera. Or with rage against the probably permanent separation of 545 children stolen from their asylum seeking parents by the U.S. Immigration and Customs Service.
But there is something wrong with holding onto rage. It hurts us. If we're to build the world we hope for, we do have to make the choice to love. For those of us with more advantages in society, that may be an easier ask. Or perhaps not -- perhaps those who need love most, most deeply understand love's power.
Onward to this last week of this ever-so-consequential election. May it end when voting ends! That seems a hopeful thing to ask.
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