Subversive Power

I am preparing for Bible study this morning and today we spend time with Palm Sunday and Jesus entry into Jerusalem.  Usually, of course, I only look at this during Lent on Palm Sunday.  But today, in the light of the political situation today and the "raw power:" that is being exhibited by Mitch McConnell and Donald Trump in pushing for a new supreme court judge I find hope in the figure sitting on a donkey and a colt.

The death of Ruth Bader Ginsberg has hit me hard and I find myself awed by her legacy.  She was an ordinary woman who worked extremely hard and really had the courage of her convictions in equality for all.  It is hard to imagine a time when a woman could not get a credit card on her own and had so little power in making her own decisions.  And, amazingly, it is within my lifetime.  RBG has been a pivotal person in the changes that have happened in the last few decades.  

I don't have time to write much more - babysitting my granddaughter Maggie today while her mom has a 5 hour meeting via zoom.  I just wonder at the whole notion of power and the belief that God is working underneath what we can see  on the surface through unlikely  people who dedicate their lives to freedom for others - people like RBG and John Lewis.

I love this poem by Maya Angelou.  

When Great Trees Fall

Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.We breathe, briefly.Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken.Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance,
 fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignorance
 ofdark, coldcaves.And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. They existed.We can be. Be and bebetter. For they existed.