November 9, 2016

After one particularly hard presbytery meeting in which everyone was mad and I couldn't completely understand why, a very wise woman listened to me and said with both sadness and hope in her voice, "These are the death throes..."

One becomes acquainted with death in ministry. Talking about it with those for whom it has snuck up on the horizon. Ushering beloved saints into it. Cursing it when it robs families unexpectedly.

It's no different, I suppose, when death visits us in different ways. An idea. An ideology. A way of being. We do all the same things. We fear for what it means. We fear for the unknown that comes after the death. We scramble to deny. To fix. To heal. To blame the doctor.

I suppose it should be no surprise then, really, that we have elected a candidate endorsed by the KKK in the era of Black Lives Matter. I suppose it should be no surprise in the days when we're leaning in more than ever, that we elect one who promises to reverse the progress of women's health rights, and participates in and excuses misogyny. It should be no surprise in these days with more displaced persons in our world than ever before, that we've voted for one who fuels xenophobia.

These are the death throes.

And so my hope this election night, is that our racism, our sexism, our xenophobia, our carelessness with facts, our suspicion of the other, our inability to hear one another - my hope is that all of it dies a quick, and sure death.

Sometimes there is a brief surge of life before the body let's go. Sometimes the body gets one last burst, as if testing its power to be sure the time for death is right. And always, when the time is right, death will do her thing.

This old way of being is dying, but it will not go silently into the night. These are the death throes.

And so, I remain hopeful that the quick death all our -isms need to face is very near. This is their last stand. And I am prayerful, that while we witness the worst of ourselves scream and dance around its inevitable grave, that we keep working. That we don't let the hopeful parts of ourselves die with these things. That we remember nothing can separate us from the love of God, and we shouldn't let anything separate us from one another. I remain prayerful that we do the work, that so badly needs to be done now. That we keep our eyes open and ever watchful, noting both how we got here and what we will now do for our children's future.

These are the death throes. May we survive them. And may what emerges in their aftermath be something more beautiful than this, God help us.