The modern commitment to racial profiling is so deep and so engrained. We can’t even read the scriptures without imposing our racial categories and biases on the stories of those who have gone before us in faith.
As we move away from casting all responsibility on God to fix the problems humanity has created, we discover our need for disciplines, habits of the heart, that can turn us from the most narrow self-interest to a more expansive collective interest. We begin to set limits on our consumption of goods that harm our bodies and the earth; we find ways to redistribute and make reparations for the unjust hoarding of resources God has provided for the common good; we take action to care for and protect our kin, praying with our feet when necessary. In these ways, we display what we treasure most, investing our whole lives in caring for one another, preparing ourselves for the life to come when humanity and all of creation will be restored.
This year something grew inside the darkness of my home, the stillness of the park across the street, in the gaps on my calendar that used to be so full with activities and events. It was painful, the way I imagine it is painful to have your internal organs shifted out of the way to make room for the infant that also grows in the dark. It has brought focus and fortitude and clarity about my willingness to fight for the people I love.