there are lots of prejudices, and they always create
pain and hurt.
often they are created for funny reasons, silly
reasons.
they make church groups distant and cold and
unable to relate
as caring circles.
love heals prejudice
because love accepts people where they are.
how they look, how they act, what their
potential is, or isn’t. it makes no demands,
no stipulations. it constantly reaches out
and says, “you may be at one pole and i
at another… but can we be friends
and learn from each other?”
a close friend of mine is a journalist who claims to
be agnostic. we met when she interviewed me for
a newspaper feature. she’s pretty, vibrant, brilliant
in her world.
she has a lovely family i’m fond of.
after we’ve been out together, and i start to leave,
i always say,
“vera, i really love you…”
and vera always responds, “i love you, too…”
i laugh and hug her and think how wonderful it
is that even taking the most sacred thing in my
life and seeing it as pure skepticism in another
doesn’t have to build a wall. God’s love streaks
through the barriers. of course,
i wish vera believed in Jesus Christ. but we love
each other in spite of our differences.
prejudice never lived in our relationship…
not even in the beginning.
when i was twelve, we took a tiny hawaiian baby to
live with us. she was a gift from her family who
already had eleven.
they considered it an honor to entrust us
with their twelfth. if ever a baby had love and
attention to grow in, lani did.
we were white, but somehow we were able to bring
into our family circle the brown skin and black
eyes that we so loved.
God planned people.
all of us.
under the skin or the type of dress or the difference
of language or drawl…
under the facade of house and neighborhood and
“what does your father do?”… similar hurts and
feelings exist.
at different times, everybody cries and laughs
and fails and feels embarrassed and insecure
and needs warmth and someone to call a
friend.
so when all the outside layers are peeled, prejudice
gets tossed out, too.
love made me reach out again and again growing
up.
not shoving, pushing love… but love that says
simply, with affirmation,
“i am a person with purpose and value. i will
be patient as you work at remembering that…”
by the time i graduated from high school, i was no
longer alienated.
it took time.
love does.
but the circle “drew us in.”
i felt belonging in the cafeteria,
in the gym,
at the bus stop.
love won.
it paid.
eric is my friend.
maybe i love him extra because he’s black.
i can imagine how it must feel
in a white-dominated world.
he’s six, and his favorite thing for me to do with
him is rub his head.
he stands tall with arms at his side, and
squirms with delight as i stroke his head
and pat his face.
“eric, i love you. it’s fun being your friend…”
word came to me that eric was to go in
for open heart surgery, and the odds were
poor.
i was upset.
i couldn’t lose eric.
he has reason to live.
the night before surgery, i drove into
massachusetts general hospital and went to the
sixth floor; most of the children were asleep.
not eric.
clean pajamas, tucked under fresh sheets.
i picked him up,
cradled him on my lap,
and rubbed his head.
“eric, you aren’t scared, are you? don’t be
scared. Jesus is going to sit right here by your
bedside all night,
just taking care of you, eric,
i love you… be brave for me.”
i prayed with eric and tucked him back under, and
walked out wondering if i’d ever see him again.
i did.
he came through.
he now scoots around on a shiny red tricycle.
i worry about eric. he lives in south boston.
and racial prejudice is exploding and killing
everywhere. i hope my love for him makes a
difference.
i hope it teaches him that people belong
together.
all kinds.
in hawaii all the manger scenes at Christmas
picture a dark-skinned Christ child.
love sees no differences.
Jesus, make my heart wide.
so wide that differences don’t matter.
just beating hearts and minds.
a professor was lecturing to a class of law