Yesterday, I attended a small but effective "No Kings" event in my town. There was a very much larger rally in the next town over (10,000 people), but Sister Marietta and I had lunch here at Stillsong first and then walked over to the event occurring at the town's major intersection not far from here, where we joined with others to wave signs, beat drums, clap, thank those in cars waving and honking as they moved past us, and cheer for our country and those supporting our constitution. We were few in number, but passionate and peaceful in witnessing to our love for the US and our concern for the well-being of our democracy and all it brings to our world.
As we came to leave my place, Marietta stopped and quietly and clearly stated (prayed) our intentions to support the Nation and its values. In this way, we made even more concrete why we were going to this small protest and why we were joining our own minds, hearts, and bodies with those of other Americans throughout the country. These values and our participation were every bit as sacred as daily prayer or liturgy, and every bit as much a way of participating in the coming of God's Reign as the other things the consecration of our lives requires and empowers. Stopping to affirm our intention in this quiet, matter-of-fact way before stepping out of the door was powerful and helped set the tone of our participation. It remained with me throughout the afternoon.
The gathering was both intimate, peaceful, and celebratory. There were some great signs, one of the best being one that began, "I'll show you my civility if you show me yours . . ." Most were some variation of "No Kings." There were parents and children, people with disabilities, young and old, and even a large and
very affectionate dog with us. You name it. Generally, we cheered and waved to (and often with) those who came past our corner. Lots of folks responded with smiles, cheers, honking, thumbs up affirmations, and a few with the ASL sign 🤟 for love or I love you. One young woman stood up through the sunroof of the car she was in and waved her own sign and cheered with us. Others were silent, studiously avoided looking at us face to face, and a few used a rigid, solitary middle finger to tell us what they thought of what we were doing. One driver yelled out, "F__k y'all!" but in the main, people who disagreed with or disliked what we were doing were simply silent and moved past without a sign of actual animosity.
Until, that is, one man walked across the small park behind us and directly into our midst. He challenged us in a sentence I cannot now recall, and then, just inches from a number of us, he leaned close and continued to rage, "This is not Berkeley!" You're scum!! You should (or perhaps, "I hope you) all burn in hell!' We were stunned. Marietta felt chills and later sadly noted the shocking ugliness of the rant and grieved that any human being should speak that way to other human beings. I was bewildered by the man's anger and his decision to come all the way across the small park to confront us specifically. (Neither Marietta nor I were dressed differently from anyone else in the group, though we both wore small crosses and rings, so religious garb was not part of drawing his attention. It may, however, have been part of the reason he tailored his words regarding hell as he did.) Still, what we were doing was quintessentially American and positive. It created community and strengthened solidarity with other citizens and non-citizens alike. Therefore, what I was even more stunned by was the fact that this man was apparently an immigrant who had come here from Russia or some linguistically related, Slavic country, who was raging about the exercise of our constitutional rights and joy at being American. The irony was striking.
I woke up this morning with this man in my thoughts and prayers, along with the others I had spent time with yesterday afternoon. I was still struggling to make sense of the man's anger and verbal aggression. And, of course, I could not. In some ways, I felt grateful for the brief encounter the man offered because of the way it helped crystallize the brutality, ugliness, and inhumanity the No Kings movement, among others, is struggling against. I am not unfamiliar with evil as it consumes the hearts and minds of people and leaves them feeling hopeless, helpless, and profoundly angry in its wake. I think this is what I was seeing yesterday and part of the inhumanity "No Kings" stands against as it affirms the importance of maintaining America as a "shining
democratic (not theocratic!) light on the hill".
America is not the Kingdom of God, nor is it meant to be, much less is it meant to supplant that. However, it is meant to participate in and witness in its own unique way to the gradual and universally inclusive coming of that reign. The democratic experiment in which we participate every day of our lives contributes uniquely here, but only if it does not succumb to the idolatry that seeks to set up a theocracy or enlists the energies of those who believe others are scum and should be excluded from this democracy and even (smugly, gratefully, and self-righteously) consigned to hell! Everyone on that corner yesterday was shocked by and concerned for the man who railed at and against us. I believe we all recognized the terrible bondage to which he was and is captive. And, of course, I know at least some of us prayed for him. Rooted in the love of God we also celebrated yesterday, we will continue to pray for him as we do what we can to dissent from and protest against the fear-inspiring, inhuman, and alienating perversions currently being done in the name of the United States and a Nationalism some mistakenly call "Christian". This was the intention Marietta and I set out with yesterday, and the intention I pray we all find the continuing courage to live into and represent to the world.
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