For many, these last few weeks have been a nightmare traveling across the land, unlike anything our nation has ever experienced. We are not the first country, nor will we be the last, to have suffered so much loss.
Someone once said that cowardice is contagious. But it is also true that courage is contagious. Stories of resistance give me hope.
One such story comes from our own farming state of Iowa, in the small town of Creston. Curious, my wife Sheryl and I decided to drive almost two hours to participate in a town hall meeting. Their representative had refused to come, and in his place, there was a picture of him in front of the meeting room.
As the time approached, more people from the town began to trickle in, then flood in, until it was standing room only. They spoke up for veterans, medical benefits, social security, and virtually everything that had been recently attacked.
As the meeting began to wind down, the spirit moved Sheryl, with her clerical collar, to stand up and take apart the current administration. As her voice crescendoed, her last words were addressed to the picture on the table, and she, while pointing at the picture, proclaimed loudly, “Get a set of balls!”
As her spouse, I was stunned since she had never spoken like that. She told me later that she could not stop herself from saying those words.
My story of standing up and speaking out happened decades ago when a large group held a candlelit vigil in front of the courthouse in Corvallis, Oregon. After standing silent with our candles piercing the darkness, people began to visit, rather than focus on our silent witness.
I wanted us to refocus, so I took a very bold step. I am a good writer and speaker, but I was never known for my singing voice. Tremulously at first, I began to sing “Dona Nobis Pacem” (translated: “Give Us Peace”).
One by one, the singing spread throughout the crowd until we focused on the peace we demanded, while our flickering candles kept burning brightly. We were transformed into a cohesive group singing away the darkness, waiting hopefully for the dawn of a new day.
I am reminded of the well-known African American spiritual, “Wade in the Water.” The song was sung by enslaved people who yearned for a life of freedom. They tried to escape the enslavers and their trail-sniffing dogs.
The easiest way to do that was to wade across the waters, where their scent would be lost.
A new version is sung by Spirituals, a gospel choir founded in 2020 in response to the unjust murder of George Floyd. They changed the words to claim they are the sons and the daughters who need to keep wading in the waters, to call on God to trouble the waters until we are all on the other side.
Wade in the water
We dey wade in the water
Children wade in the waterGod said he’s gonna trouble the water
Wade in the water
We dey wade in the water
Children wade in the water
God’s gonna trouble the waterWe are the sons and the daughters
We gotta stand up and make it loud
Just like our God told the Pharaoh
‘Let my people go, go’We are a new generation
From the ones who have come before
He’s calling us into freedom
Let my people go, go.We gotta stand up and make it loud
Just like our God told the Pharaoh
‘Let my people go, go’…We no go shy, no go shame
Ibi your papa God wey ‘e make the heavens
If you know sey you no want trouble
Let my people go, go
With blood, sweat and tears
That we’ve gathered through the years
If you know sey you no want trouble
Let my people go, go…”
Let us keep lighting our candles, singing in the dark while waiting for dawn, then wading across the troubled waters so that we can all sing together on the other side.
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advocate and educator for those experiencing hearing loss.
