George Floyd portrait in a front yard on our street.
In
thanksgiving for the life, artistry, and audacious activism of Larry Kramer,
who saved countless lives, possibly my own.
An
unrecorded Eighth Last Word of Jesus on the cross as his body sagged, cutting
off his airflow, was “I can’t breathe!”
Doesn’t
matter if this is true, because his spirit is surely in the last breath of any
who suffer at the hands (or knee) of the powers that be. “I can’t breathe” has
become the protest not only of individuals but of a movement intent on justice
for all.
And
now it also encompasses the respiratory suffering of millions at the hands of a
virus and care-less leaders, even as caregivers give everything they have to relieve
suffering and save lives.
Only
in one difficult period of my life did I suffer a series of panic attacks in
which I thought, “I can’t breathe.” But it gave me an inkling of what
desperation that feeling entails. I can understand the resulting urges to
violence and the sentiment expressed in the words of the 1975 Hollywood film
prophet, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Or in the
Holocaust rejoinder, “Never again!” And in the AIDS pandemic, “Silence=Death.”
In
relation to the novel coronavirus pandemic, I’ve followed the science of the
virus and the treatment of COVID-19 as well as the sometimes-harrowing personal
experiences of those infected. When I pray about this, I can’t bring myself to
pray for special protections for me and Wade and our families and friends. I
pray for the whole human family: for deliverance, for a treatment, a cure, a
vaccine.
On
a recent routine visit, my Physician Assistant asked me where I was getting
my information about it all and he was relieved to hear me say, “NPR, PBS and
The New York Times.” Whether facing a pandemic or a presidential election,
where we get our news matters.
Intriguing
to me is how central breath is to managing and hopefully overcoming the havoc the
virus wreaks in our bodies. Breath is central biblically and spiritually as
well. Breath and Spirit represent life and soulfulness. God breathed life into
the first human creature. Jesus breathed on his disciples Holy Spirit. The
Spirit breathed resurrection into the early Christian movement, and then its subsequent
reformations, including that of progressive Christianity.
And
breath is helping me get through this period. Using the words Jesus used on a
storm at sea, I breathe in thinking “Peace” and breathe out thinking “Be still,”
inhaling the peace of God and exhaling the “demons” that wrack my well-being.
Last
week I read a moving message from one of my Facebook friends, a black mother who
was glad she had given her teenage son “the Talk” that so many of our black
friends and colleagues have had to give their children about appearing
non-threatening. He was pulled over for what turned out
to be a minor infraction, so he had taken everything out of his pockets, put
his driver’s license in one hand and his car registration in the other, and
placed both hands on the steering wheel where the approaching officer could see
them. The officer turned out to be friendly, but her son had been shaken by the
encounter. I’m sure he had to catch his breath when it was all over, as did his
mother upon hearing of the experience.
I
wept to read this. With many others, I responded with a brief word of support
and gratitude.
I
believe Jesus wept too.
Also in our Georgia neighborhood.
Recent
posts that offer hope during our pandemic:
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Copyright
© 2020 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with
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