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a resource for this time of COVID-19 social distancing

Church  From  a  Distance

The Hard Truth About Skin

7/30/2020

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By The Rev. Cathy Gray

I cannot speak from experience about your life. 
But I can say this:
You are right to tell me
that I am a carrier of privilege,
that mine is a life graced
by the color of my skin. 
You are right. 


I can never know the pain
that lives in you, the pain
that may well be the death of you.


I have no way to understand
the fear bequeathed to you
by your ancestors
(cast upon them by my own).
I can never begin to grasp
what it means to have your life
formed and then cast out
by the happenstance of genetics
that gave you
(by some white-warped standard)
too heavy a dose
of tyrosinase or melanocytes


As a child
I was honored and loved
by my teachers.
I was respected by my peers.
I had an easy freedom to excel. 
I had clean safe water to drink
and quality health care
and all my shots
and I vacationed in beautiful places.


I knew my mom and my dad 
would be safely home at the end of the day;
that my brother
would live to adulthood, 
relaxed and at ease;
that I could choose from every adventure 
life has to offer
and safely walk - run! -
wherever my heart might lead
for as long as I live
because of the color of my skin.


I’ve never been called out on the streets
or had names flung at me
like stones
because of the color of my skin.


I’ve never been spit at 
or pelted with rotting words
or stopped while driving
or shot at while jogging
or banned from a bus
or a water fountain
because of the color of my skin. 


I’ve never had to worry
about my son’s future
or my daughter’s well-being
or about 
my standing in my community
or the safety of my neighborhood
because of the color of my skin.


I’ve never had to drag 
the history of my people
like a chain
or like a beating
or like denigrating nakedness
or like abject hopelessness
and being sold down the river
because of the color of my skin.


But I can see it in your eyes.
I can hear as your breath catches 
and as you swallow the hard words.
I can tell by the cut of your jaw 
- in such contradiction with your beautiful smile -
that being alive 
in this time and in this place
and in your skin
must hurt, might be
the very definition of trauma.


I’ll never know how it feels
to be you
but I can say, out loud:
This history is wrong. 
This present moment is wrong. 
This future we are careening into
is wrong. 
And I can say:
Your life matters.
Your life is of immeasurable value
(infinitely more than twenty dollars).
Your life (your beautiful life)
is held in God’s hand,
here, right next to mine.


And I can take a deep, deep breath
then, in front of everyone, I can call you human,
call you beloved. 
I can’t really tell your story because 
I cannot speak in your voice -
but I can speak. 
And maybe 
I can give you a moment to sit in peace,
to draw your own precious breath,
long and deep and alive. 

1 Comment

Life seeks life

7/8/2020

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Picture

by the Rev. Bruce Gray
I took the photo above this week when I made a quick stop at the church to sign some papers. Like the rest of the staff, I have been working from home these recent months due to COVID19, and parish worship and gatherings have all been online. So the main doors from the parking lot into the church have gone unused. 

This has given these two petunia plants a place to grow without being disturbed. But of course I see them as a metaphor. Even when the life of the church does not get to take place at the church, it goes on, and finds new places to blossom. That is the wonderful way God works in the world in general, and in each of our individual lives in particular. God is always seeking to give us new life, new ways to bloom, new ways to feel and share God's love for all. 

Even though the people of Holy Family do not get to be together in person, the church and its ministries live on, and even grow. Even though we have now lived months in strange places, seeds that we did not even know were planted have sprouted and blooms can be seen, if we look. I am very glad I did not accidentally squash these two small petunia plants, and similarly, may we not, through our inattention, squash new ways God is loving us and loving the rest of the world, even in, or rather especially in, difficult times and places.

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    Editor

    The Rev. Bruce W. Gray
    Rector of Holy Family Episcopal Church, Fishers, IN.

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