I choose to be a witness
“The world feels heavy and I’m not sure my heart can hold it all,” she writes to me in an email, “Please, tell me how to hold it all?”
In other words, in our fragile and broken world, how do we rise above the weight of the noise and cruelty? And, is it even possible to make a difference?
My gut reaction was this: I wish I knew the answer.
And I remember, with gratitude, Elie Wiesel. He survived the World War II Nazi concentration camp of Buchenwald and death camp of Auschwitz. After liberation, he lived in France, Israel and the United States, where he advocated on behalf of victims of hate and persecution around the world. He died in 2016, at the age of 87.
Wiesel dedicated his life to the fight against all hatred, and for the affirmation that every man and woman carries with them dignity, formed in the image of God.
During his life, Wiesel was called a messenger of peace, a humanitarian and a survivor. When asked, he liked to call himself simply, “a witness”.
And as a witness, Wiesel said, it was his duty to never let those who suffered be forgotten. “Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented,” he said. “Sometimes we must interfere.”
I read a statement made in the Irish Times by a Connemara man after he was arrested for a car accident. “There were plenty of onlookers, but no witnesses.”
In answering the email exchange question, I’m answering another go-to question I received this week, “What exactly do we do?”
Today, I have an answer. I am a witness. You are a witness.
As a witness, I choose to pay attention—to be present—while I am here.
In a world that rewards “dog eat dog”, I choose mercy.
In a world where demeaning someone is applauded, I choose to honor dignity.
In a world where exclusion and marginalization are real, I choose the Gospel: “You belong. Your humanity is not up for negotiation. Your presence does not require anyone’s permission.”
What does this look like? Oh, it’s the little gifts my friends. It makes a big difference to hug the hurt. To kiss the broken. To bandage the wounded. To befriend the lost. To love the lonely. To stand up for the humiliated. Little gifts of compassion, connection, dignity, empathy, kindness, generosity, peace that leave people better than we find them.
When people learn that I am a minister, they’re often curious to ask what I “believe”. And when I visit different churches, some people like to ask me. They can’t help themselves.
Okay, here you go: God has a heart for those who are left out, forgotten, and excluded.
God’s grace is bigger than anything which distances and separates and wounds us.
You are God’s beloved child, and God’s love for you is unconditional.
And when I see acts of exclusion, or acts that disparage inclusion, I feel it, viscerally, and my beliefs matter, and they summon and fuel a choice: I want to be a witness to God’s Mercy and Grace.
And in such moments of heartache, I have the courage to hold a hand the needs to be held.
One friend calls this the Gospel’s marching orders: “take care of the poor, take care of the sick, welcome the stranger and be kind to those in prison.”
This I do know: This week I really missed my old congregation, the sheep.
And I remember a conversation I had with them a few years back, and how it did my heart good.
On my walk this morning, I stop, and stand at the fence. My congregation, the sheep, don’t mind silence, which is nice and different from many churches I have visited. After a while, I tell them, “I need your help. My heart hurts today, and I don’t know what to say. Or do. I know you all don’t read the news. But the world is broken. It’s been mentally and emotionally exhausting following updates.” They look up at me.
“You don’t mind if I stand here a little while, do you?” I ask. “It’s peaceful here.”
And I tell them about the heartbreaking news of the day. And then say, “I feel like I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”
“You sure do apologize a lot.” Their look tells me.
“Well, I grew up in a church that always required answers. And I don’t have any,” I tell them. “But I can tell you a story.”
A young girl who returns home from school in tears. Her mother worried, asked, “Sweetheart, what happened?”
“It was awful,” the girl told her Mother. “My best friend’s cat died. And she was very, very sad. And I don’t think I’m a good best friend, because I didn’t know the right words to say, to try to help her.”
“What did you do?” the mother asked. “I just held her hand and cried with her all day.”
“Thank you,” I tell my sheep congregation. “You did my heart good today. You helped me remember what matters.”
I tell them what Mother Teresa said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” I think they liked it.
So. What do we do when our world feels upside down?
When our world feels unrecognizable and unsettled?
When we feel overwhelmed and alone?
I was schooled to know what to say. The “right” words, mostly for appearance. As if what I had to say, was more important than that I’m here. And I forget the power of simply being present. Yes; a witness.
One person at a time. A bestower of grace and light in a dark world.
This week, let us carry with us this prayer from Rev. Steven Charleston.
“When they hate, I will love.
When they curse, I will bless.
When they hurt, I will heal.
I am a servant of the light.
I am not afraid of darkness.
I will carry on with my work as a steward of this Earth and of all her children. When they divide, I will unite.
When they rage, I will calm.
When they deny, I will affirm.
I will simply be who I am: for that is what Spirit created me to be.”
And my friends, let us be on the lookout for hands that need to be held.
I’m on my way to the Bay Area for a few days.
And when I return to the Pacific Northwest, I’ll be heartily cheering for my Seattle Mariners, as they begin their post season baseball playoff run.
Quote for our week…
“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world… would do this, it would change the earth.” William Faulkner
Note: Some of this Sabbath Moment appeared earlier this year. And I had not remembered writing it, but in re-reading old notes, I realize it was the message—the word, “witness”—I needed today.
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Good morning, Terry, It’s a scary world out there. But we have each other. This is what I’ve told coworkers. When I am overwhelmed, one of them will lift me up. When one of them feels like they cannot go on. I will be there for them. We have the beauty of the created world. It will not go away. We have people like you who give us hope in our inbox.” Faith Lang (Glendale, OH)… Thank you Faith… Thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–Hi, Terry. This Sabbath Moment of “invited to dance” was such a wonderful moment as I read it. The sentence that made me feel loved by God was when you quoted St. Catherine of Siena: “I won’t take no for an answer as God began to say to me when he opened his arms each night wanting to dance!” This is truly who our God is! Wanting to dance with us. Love That! So powerful for me! Thank you so much! Irene
–Terry, your story about fairies reminds me that the rector of Saint Barnabas Church in London, who baptized me as a Christian in 1998, told me always to keep my eyes open during the final benediction–because that’s when you might see an angel flying across the nave. I’m the one with my eyes wide open every Sunday!
As ever, Amanda Marie (Atlanta, GA)
–Hello Reverend Hershey, I just watched “The Way.” What a moving and beautiful movie. You told us about the El Camino Trail at the CLM Retreat in Albuquerque. I recall your friend who build his own El Camino on his property. I will be pondering this movie for some time. Thank you. Susan, the Buckeye fan.
–Aww, once again your spoken and written words are just what I needed to hear. It isn’t easy to live intentionally or stay in the present moment. However, it’s rich with wonder and joy when someone reminds me it’s what I/we are made for. Thank you Terry, Denise
–Terry I could sit in my cozy chair, looking out my backyard window and listen to your audios for hours! Today was lovely, just what I needed to hear. I cannot explain why, but the prayers hit me especially hard today… thank you. You are still my church. Sincerely, Kim
