For those of you who may not know, today is a special day of remembrance of those who have recently committed suicide as a result of bullying; specifically, bullying based on sexual orientation or perceived sexual orientation. To remember those beautiful human beings, those of us who are still around have decided to wear purple.
Are we not over this yet? Are we not over causing pain? Are we not over putting others down to feel better about ourselves?
Unfortunately, we are all still wounded. Every child that has been tormented and every bully who torments...is wounded. We are a hurt and hurtful people.
We draw lines. We place labels. We build walls. We protect "us" against "them." We build ourselves up while we put others down.
But, you see, this isn't just about sexual orientation....is it? We could say these things about racism, sexism, classism...other -isms?
We are a wounded world.
Today, PLTS celebrated the Festival of St. Luke - the great healer. Our preacher was Dr. Balch (who many of my classmates know as the professor of their "Paul" class). But today, we found out that he is wounded too...just like us. And he read to us this lament by Ann Weems:
How long will you watch, O God,
as your people huddle in death?
The whole world
is dressed in tears,
and I have joined
the procession of the bereaved
who walk daily in the death places.
We drown in the sea.
We bleed on the battlefield.
We lie stricken on sick beds.
We are judged in the courtrooms.
We are victims of crime.
We are homeless and hungry.
Is this not enough?
We are tormented by mental illness.
We are abandoned by loved ones.
We wait in unemployment lines.
We grow up on the streets.
We live with disabilities.
We are injured in accidents.
We are plagued by family problems.
We fight drug and alcohol abuse.
Have you not heard enough, O God?
We sit in police stations.
We watch our loved ones endure pain.
We are falsely accused.
We encounter prejudice and hate.
We are humiliated and abused.
We contend with unbearable stress and anxiety.
We weep by the grave.
We are your people, O Creator God!
We are the work of your hands.
Is there no more grace
for your troubled ones?
Will we continue
our unholy procession
around the pit
of living death?
There is no sun, no moon, no star.
We cannot see our way.
Have pity on your world, O God,
have pity on your weeping world!
We remember all the times
you lavished your grace
upon our heads
and into our hearts.
You gave us the gift of light,
and we walked with our heads up
in the procession of life.
Restore us, O God,
to your sanctuary.
Look upon us
and let your heart be moved
to break the bonds of the bereaved.
In this hope is our joy.
In that day we will run
to join the procession of life
and we will sing hymns of praise
for ever and ever
and ever
and ever!
There is healing that needs to take place for us all. And it starts in me, and in you. Heal yourself, and you'll heal others.
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