Dear Folks,

On election day in Reservoir Hill, the polling place was full of familiar people, some who are friends and some who are strangers. Three older women sat at the exit table, giving out “I voted” stickers and offering thanks. One whispered to the other, “That’s the pastor who lives around the corner,” and then more loudly, “Hey neighbor.”  At the check-in table was a fellow I’ve had beers with a few times. Coming out was the president of our neighborhood association who works from home, happy to be away from her computer for a few minutes and taking part in the democratic process. We were old and young, single and partnered, mostly Black and some White. The air felt heavy and unsettled to me, perhaps because of Tuesday’s unseasonable warmth, or maybe it was something else: exhaustion, anxiety, wonder?

Wednesday was eerily quiet, unusual in an area pierced by North Avenue. But a glorious sunrise brought out old friends, and a few meaningful conversations shaped my walk with our dog. Kenneth was back at his spot at the top of our pocket park, in his wheelchair with a cigar and a friend, slow jams pulsing his boombox. We’re still here, his circle proclaimed: sober, ready, resolved. A retired doctor said, “There’s no way around being worried, but I am trusting that age-old principles can sustain us.” And Angelo, the crossing guard, who hugs me and my wife every morning said, “Nothing to do but keep on keeping on.” Amen.

How are you feeling? What are you doing to ground your feet on solid ground? I am repeating the prayer I offered last Sunday: Love and vote and listen, and then love and listen some more. Healing is more important than winning.

We help to create a country where voting is a right for every adult by voting our conscience and ensuring that others can do the same. But winning is not the point, healing is. Reconciliation is our highest value as human beings and people of faith, and so we work and organize for justice. That work never ends, and it will always be beyond political party or expediency. Followers of the One from Nazareth will always dedicate and re-dedicate themselves to the common good, for the last and the lost and the least likely, and so we commit ourselves again to their well-being and our own.

Breathe. The Spirit of the One who sustains us, by loving us into loving each other, is as close as your next breath. Here are some poems that might help:

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow. (“Dreams,” Langston Hughes)

…When this ends
may we find
that we have become
more like the people
we wanted to be
we were called to be
we hoped to be
and may we stay
that way — better
for each other
because of the worst. (Laura Kelly Fanucci)

Heal us: the overly content, the malcontent,
the skilled and sere of heart, the secret weepers,
the self-defeated, the defaulters, the proud of place
drinking the empty wind of honor.

Help the workhorses slow; speed the laggards, give back to routine and rote their lost soul.
Institution, constitution, order, law—O kiss the dead awake!
Your Holy Spirit, come! (Daniel Berrigan)

Last night as I lay sleeping,
I had a dream so fair . . .
I dreamed of the Holy City, well ordered and just.
I dreamed of a garden of paradise,
well-being all around and a good water supply.
I dreamed of disarmament and forgiveness,
and caring embrace for all those in need.
I dreamed of a coming time when death is no more.

Last night as I lay sleeping . . .
I had a nightmare of sins unforgiven.
I had a nightmare of land mines still exploding
and maimed children.
I had a nightmare of the poor left unloved,
of the homeless left unnoticed,
of the dead left ungrieved.
I had a nightmare of quarrels and rages
and wars great and small.

When I awoke, I found you still to be God,
presiding over the day and night
with serene sovereignty,
for dark and light are both alike to you.

At the break of day we submit to you
our best dreams
and our worst nightmares,
asking that your healing mercy should override threats,
that your goodness will make our
nightmares less toxic
and our dreams more real.

Thank you for visiting us with newness
that overrides what is old and deathly among us.
Come among us this day; dream us toward
health and peace,
we pray in the real name of Jesus
who exposes our fantasies. (“Dreams and Nightmares,” Walter Brueggemann)

God loves us into loving each other.

Love,
David