The killing of black men by police is a relentless beating against the souls and the spirits of people who believe in justice and who operate in hope. But with each assault, those same spirits become more and more wounded.
There is nothing gratuitous about the arts right now. They are not added, they are essential—like spirituals in the hell of cotton fields, anti-war songs of the 60s, AIDS blankets and inner city murals and poetry that says what everybody’s tired souls are feeling.
In fact, it’s in the presence of difference that hospitality is often most needed.
“I’m willing to share what happened to me if it helps somebody else."
Whatever happened to hope in religions?
We have become burdened and weighed down by traditions and rules that have nothing to do with loving God.