We watch as the jets fly in with the power people and the money people, the suits, the budgets, the billions.
We wonder about monetary policy because we are among the haves, and about generosity because we care about the have-nots.
By slower modes we notice Lazarus and the poor arriving from Africa, and the beggars from Central Europe, and the throng of environmentalists with their vision of butterflies and oil of flowers and tanks of growing things and killing fields.
We wonder about peace and war, about ecology and development, about hope and entitlement.
We listen beyond jeering protesters and soaring jets and faintly we hear the mumbling of the crucified one, something about feeding the hungry and giving drink to the thirsty, about clothing the naked, and noticing the prisoners, more about the least and about holiness among them.
We are moved by the mumbles of the gospel, even while we are tenured in our privilege.
We are half ready to join the choir of hope, half afraid things might change, and in a third half of our faith turning to you, and your outpouring love that works justice and that binds us each and all to one another.
So we pray amid jeering protesters and soaring jets. Come by here and make new, even at risk to our entitlements.
+ Walter Brueggeman, “The Noise of Politics”
from Prayers for a Privileged People
Best Dreams and Worst Nightmares
[…] Posts | Monday mornings | Some days we open our eyes | Half ready, half afraid Rate this:Share this:FacebookPrintEmailTwitterRedditTumblrPinterestStumbleUponLinkedInLike […]