Saying Yes: Crossing that Bridge Anyway

John Lewis with bandaged head. State troopers cracked his skull on Bloody Sunday, March 7, 1965, when he tried to lead civil rights protesters across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Montgomery, Alabama. Despite fear, intimidation, injuries, and lost lives, the Civil Rights movement continued. The Selma March was completed successfully two weeks later. And John Lewis went on to lead an exemplary life devoted to freedom and justice.

This morning, somewhere in my email feed between “Breaking News: Republicans Win Senate Majority” and “Breaking News: Trump on Verge of Victory After Winning Pennsylvania” this little poem appeared.

When You Ask Me If I Can Say Yes to the World as It Is

Today yes is made of lead.
You look at me
and I nod—
and together
we carry the weight.

—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

My friends, this morning “yes” feels made of lead, at least for me. I feel stunned, dismayed, and afraid of what is to come in the wake of the election. Perhaps that is true for you, too. Too many words will make my head explode at this point, which is one of the reasons why I love Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s poem. But a few words might be helpful.

Yesterday, I lifted up two good things: (1) the invitation to find your calling to help heal our bruised and hurting world and (2) the power of community. This morning, I want to add two more good things to that stew: courage and conviction. Imagine the power we will have when we find our respective callings and gather in community anchored in courage and conviction.

We don’t know where our country or our world is headed at this point, other than, for now, clearly to the far right. Many of us fear we are headed for disaster. But we are not without power.

Let me repeat: We are not without power.

And we are not without stirring examples from the archives of history to inspire us. I leave you today with one example, which Robert Hubbell lifted up this morning in his “Today’s Edition Newsletter”: John Lewis.

John Lewis spent a lifetime causing what he called, “good trouble.” On March 7, 1965, state troopers beat him and broke his skull when he tried to lead civil rights marchers across the Edmund Pettus Bridge. His injuries were so bad he had to be hospitalized. But that didn’t stop him. He went on to devote his life to causing “good trouble” in the name of justice. Here, listen to him describe his experience:

Today, like so many, I feel as though I carry a heavy weight. But I am finding it helpful to remember we stand on the shoulders of giants like John Lewis, who believed in freedom, liberty, and justice. Now is the time to remember that legacy, that courage, those convictions. Our country needs us. Our world needs us. So let’s find each other. Weep if we need to. Pray if that helps us. Rage if we must. But, above all, stay strong, and keep our voices and actions aimed at creating the world we hope to see. We are a multitude, and we are not alone.

Love,

Sylvia