Lined Up

“You can’t fix what you can’t see, it’s the soul that needs a surgery. “—Beyonce 

On the 1^st day of Fall, we facilitated a lectio divina circle around a backyard fire in Central Oregon. It was just five of us, socially distanced and sharing our hearts. On the 50th day of Fall, the city of Detroit charter commission voted to recommend a clean and affordable water plan. We were in Lawrence, Kansas and we got a call from Monica Lewis-Patrick asking us to get on the four-hour Zoom call to bear witness to the brutality of water shutoffs during public comment. For the seven weeks wedged between those two scenes, we followed the scent of Spirit to swing state Michigan for election season. There were more backyard fires and more Zoom calls. There was so much more too!

We took a 70-hour roundtrip road trip to Michigan so that our souls could soak in a sacred Black majority space during a momentous time in our country’s history. Black people possess a spiritual sensibility seeded in the suffering stoked by a racist society. They move on a rhythm that transcends fear and despair. Detroit lives at the intersection of a pandemic, anti-racist uprising and the Presidential election. The city has long been devastated by racist policies rooted in education, jobs, housing, water and more. It has also been drilled by Covid-19. Donald Trump only made everything worse for its long-time, low-income residents.

The outcome of the Presidential race itself was a relief. The extra four days of counting found us incessantly refreshing news sites to root on tight races in WI, MI, AZ, NV, PA, GA and NC. The magic of those days was how it highlighted the Black vote in Milwaukee, Detroit, Atlanta and Philly and the Latinx vote in Nevada and Arizona. The absentee and mail-in ballots slowed everything down so the whole world could see. It clarified just how much people of color showed up to shut down the orange face in the White House.

On the day after the election, we got to join the creative beauty and brilliance of a march led by Detroit Will Breathe, a Black-led coalition of justice organizations in the city that has now marched on the streets every day since George Floyd was murdered by police in late May. We rocked our Count Every Vote shirts and chanted “Come out of your houses and into the street. No Justice, No Peace!” There were drums and dancing, banners and flags, signs and smiling. There was also a palpable something centered in process and perseverance. The racist virus that produced the murder of Breonna Taylor and attempts to suppress Black votes goes back to 1492 on this continent. It can only be cured by a mass movement of people of faith and conscience who commit to breaking rank from myths of American exceptionalism.

On election day, we joined an affinity team of love that organized to bear witness and de-escalate violence at the polls. In the lead-up to election day, we prayerfully discerned roles together and got trained in what they called “unarmed civilian accompaniment.” We expected intimidation tactics and possible violence from white militia groups and other Republican groups who described their work as “poll-watching.” We were grateful that it was a very quiet day. The lines were short almost everywhere we went. Detroiters voted early and in huge numbers.

It was an amazing first fifty days of Fall. We led a lectio divina circle in the Detroit suburbs with folks who left their Lutheran Church when it basically went full tilt for Trump a few years back. We accompanied folks over meals, on hikes and out on the beach on Belle Isle, an enormous island in the middle of the Detroit River. We helped We The People of Detroit transfer cases of water and hand sanitizer. We attended a four-week socially distanced bible study on water, climate and race with some older radicals at a huge Catholic church. We soaked up the Fall colors and went on runs at the Ypsilanti Nature Preserve.

We will leave you with this image. On the day before the election, I (Tom) reported for duty with our beloved mentor Rev. Roslyn Bouier in Brightmoor, one of the poorest zip codes in the nation. We unloaded two semi-trucks filled with food into a church sanctuary used to distribute food, water and other needs. Rev. Roz told me that it would last a couple weeks. When I drove away, residents were in their cars lined up and down the street to get food. At the community center across the street, residents were lined up for early voting all the way out to the parking lot. Spirit was speaking. Are we so hungry for justice that we are willing to wait in long lines too?