“Love your neighbor” becomes a new proposition
when all your neighbors hate one another;
to serve a God who loves Donald and Ben,
Hillary, Bernie, and Carly and Ted,
Who died for each polled member of the populace
and loves Marco as much as Joe,
Who remembers the names of all the candidates
and every thought they ever had
and every hair that was ever theirs–
this is no simple proposition.
To hear the still small voice of Truth above all the talking heads
and empty words and vitriol
and to remember that you too are in need of grace
and that to pray for our country
we must first love it (and here we must remember
the proper order of loves: for one can love Caesar
without burning incense) in spite of all the NOISE
that surrounds every thought we may have
about anything that supposedly matters
(Did your hear the one about Trump?
Did you hear the one about Clinton?
Did you hear the one about _____?
It is unAmerican to do everything;
It is unAmerican to do nothing)
sometimes I wonder if it is worth it
if there is any point in caring:
because after all, I am one small person
in a vast arena of shouting sports fans:
and I might be wearing the wrong color.
I don’t know.
But if I take my primary command still to be:
love your neighbor
then perhaps it is a form of love to listen
and to care with those who care.
(Still, I do not know who is right
and if anyone demands that I have an opinion
they can go stuff their head in a poll booth.)
With sincerest apologies to anyone who was hoping for something more thoughtful.