When my
options are mine,
not just
because of my choices
or my
hard work, but also because
of the
circumstances of my birth –
the
nationality on my passport,
the
religion of my ancestors,
and the
color of my skin –
and my
options aren't yours
for the
very same reasons,
how are
we to live in this world?
Justice,
when he is disentangled
from
retribution and violence,
isn't so
much about prying privilege
from one
hand and placing it in another,
as he is
about restoring
creation's
balance of need;
about
smoothing the universe's supply
of
dignity, respect, and opportunity.
If we
hope to move beyond
legislated and litigated varieties,
which
must be continually replanted,
Justice's
sister, Peace,
must be
made to feel at home.
Her
neighborhood is the place
where
stories are shared,
where
ears are tilted to understand
and not
cocked to respond.
She
unpacks Privilege's truth,
inviting
us to not only see
our economy of distribution
in all its naked disparity,
but also
to choose a life
grounded
in a commitment
to be
open to and opened by
the
question "Why?";
to
recognize that it not only
doesn't
have to be this way,
we also
aren't meant to stay this way.
Photo by Todd Jenkins |
A blessing to me, Todd. Living in such sadness. John Foley, the father of James Foley who died this week was a colleague on the bio-ethics committee of our local hospital. First the incarceration in Libya and now Syria and what happened to him is unimaginable but peace and justice and their kiss is what I long for so deeply -- not more death, not more killing.
ReplyDeleteWhere are the words? There are none; just hope. Hope and love.
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