I Just Like It: Walk Humbly Together

 

Like many millions of you, I could not bring myself to watch trump's second inauguration, with its political overreach and underhandedness. But like also many millions of you, I have watched the now-famous inaugural prayer service from the following morning by The Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of Washington, DC, at the Washington National Cathedral. You should also watch it. It is inspiring. 

Her sermon, preached to the nation, gave voice to the hopes and fears so many of us face as we enter a second phase of rule by That Felon Guy, and her final words, delivered directly to him, resound with compassion. 

In a tone both measured yet commanding, she reminds us not only of the ideals of the American Experiment but of the best of our ideals that lead to unity, dignity, honesty, and humility. She asks for mercy. 

(I've heard some of my queer friends and others complain about her last word choice, that they would not ask for mercy from trump and it's a fair point; my own tradition might have used "compassion" rather than "mercy," but in her Episcopal tradition mercy is an important idea, reverberating as it does down the ages and translations, and I honor that). 

She is not strident, she is not placating, she does not harass, she does not deliver a Jeremiad denouncing the king before her. But she is a teacher and a shepherd, guiding the thoughts and behaviors of the faithful who would follow her. 

We would all do well to live by her words to trump. 

Where Are We Now?

I am looking for some direction and comfort like I think most of us are, and on days when it becomes very, very hard to keep track of how best to continue being human and not give in to anger, despair, and doom, it's good to remember music. 

I've spoken before of what David Bowie's music meant for me growing up and how it influenced my outlook on life. I don't play his music as often as I did when he was alive, although I don't there's anything wrong with doing that--did anyone only play Beethoven when he was alive? But on reflection today I realized one song that gives me hope.

It's probably fitting that, as important as his early work was for me when I was a pup, his final works hold some resonance for me as I age. I recall that Bowie had sort of disappeared from the public when "Where Are We Now?" dropped into rotation. Here is a history of that period, mostly per Tony Visconti. I heard about the song before I heard it, and I had to look for it online. 

There's much I can say about the song and its haunting refrain, but others have said it better. I want to focus for a moment on why it gives me hope. 

This is from Bowie's penultimate album, when he knew he had cancer and he only had so much time left. He looked back to when he was, he said, probably happiest up to then, during his Berlin period when he produced Low, Heroes, and Lodger. In doing so he also notes in the song the incredible image of "twenty thousand people cross[ing] Bosebrucke."  What makes this an indelible image is that it is the moment in history when an error in communication between authorities and the boots on the ground allowed for the crossing of so many from East to West Berlin, leading to the destruction of the Wall itself. Why it resonates with me? The following lyric: "[their] fingers are crossed just in case." They were afraid they would be cut down (and perhaps any other day they might have) but they bundled their dignity and crossed not only their fingers but the bridge too. We should have as much courage.

Another reason? The hope suggested in the lines "As long as there's sun.../As long as there's rain.../As long as there's fire.../As long as there's me/As long as there's you." As long as there's a world and an us there's life. And as long as there's life there's hope.