Where is God in all this?

Sigh.

So.

My first thought is related to Night, Elie Wiesel’s memoir of his time spent in death camps during the Holocaust.

In section 4 of the book, there are two hangings. The first man who is hanged stole something. He is proud and fearless as he marches toward the gallows. The prisoners think little of the hanging and just want to get it over with so they can eat dinner. The hanging is ended by all the prisoners marching past the dead man's body and then onward to soup. No one, in the book, questions where God is when that man is hanged.

The second hanging is a child—10, 11, 12 years old. Young. He, along with his master, were caught stockpiling weapons for what can be assumed was a plan to overthrow the Nazis at the camp. When the child is marched to the gallows, he is shaking. Scared. Crying. 

So are all the prisoners who are forced to watch the hanging. They don’t want dinner afterwards. They are appalled, broken, let down both by the loss of hope (for there will be no uprising) and let down by yet another reminder that life sucks and there is no divine intervention on behalf of the small, the meek, the justice-seeking.

The chapter ends when Elie heard someone behind him say

"For God's sake, where is God?"

 

And from within [himself], [Elie] heard a voice answer:

"Where He is? This is where—hanging here from this gal-

lows."

 

At this moment, the boy was not yet dead--he was too small for the hanging to be effective--but was almost there.

Which can be interpreted a few ways.

One, God is *almost* dead to Elie.

Two, God is found in the small, the meek, the rebellious justice seekers.

So, why does God let this happen? That’s a great question. One only she or he has the answer to. I definitely don’t.

But we would be foolish to say God is not present--God is everywhere. 

I see God in the activists. In the fighters. In the protestors. And, yes, even in some of the looters. I see God active and moving in the vast expanse of white people who are finally fucking learning what their privilege is and being humble enough to learn how to use their voices to amplify the generations of cries and screams of their brothers and sisters of color.

I see God in the fragile, breaking spaces. The hurt, aching people. The tense, pregnant moments ready to deliver change.

I also think of a post on the Progressive Methodist Facebook group I’m a part of. Sure, Jesus turned tables at the temple when the poor were being played and upcharged for their annual sacrificial lambs and doves. We're all familiar with that and should emulate that expression of righteous anger and destruction.

But what many aren’t thinking about is the 10 plagues. Moses tried and tried to liberate his people from Pharaoh, but Pharaoh’s hard, hard heart just wouldn’t break. So God intervened. Sent the plagues. And it took every single plague to eventually break Pharaoh, and even then--even after his own first born child died—he STILL chased after the Israelites into the sea.

Maybe God’s just waiting until our pharaoh’s last straw to intervene in miraculous ways. Maybe God's waiting for the issue of racism, prejudice, systemic injustice to reach closer to home for the rich, straight, white men in charge. 

Or maybe black activists and white pocketbooks and the minority vote are meant to be the miracle.

It will never be the same.

I remember January. I remember returning to the classroom and watching CNN 10 first thing in the morning with my journalism class. I remember learning about the "Novel Corona Virus." I remember thinking "Wow, that's crazy. I hope China gets along alright."

I remember hearing a case had popped up in Seattle. A case had popped up in Arizona. I thought nothing of it. It's just like the flu, right?

The semester continued. Spring break came, as did the camping trip spent with my husband and two friends. Then the news came--our school district's governing board would be discussing closing the schools for two weeks after spring break, essentially quarantining all students and staff and providing online learning because who knows where everyone went for spring break.

The vote passed. We had three days to prepare our new unit for students to learn online.

We moved to online learning.

Later, the board met again. This time, the vote was to complete the 2019-2020 school year online. The ayes had it.

That.

That was the moment I realized life for the next year or two (at least until a vaccine came out) would never be the same. Weekly care-free rendezvous to Target would no longer be the norm. Grocery shopping once a week? Also not the norm. Mask-free breathing? No longer. Teaching students face to face? Nope.

Life, work life, home life, relaxed life, would no longer be the same.

"Nor should it," many cried, pointing out that COVID hospitalization rates are closely correlated with one's income. People of color, people who work in the service industry, people who hold jobs in healthcare yet do not make bank for their positions--these are the people who are getting sick. Not to mention, many who are low income are also more likely to have underlying health issues.

And then, just as many states decided it was time to go back to "normal..."

Shootings by armed citizens in social spaces.

George Floyd.

Breonna Taylor.

Ahmaud Arbery.

Sean Reed.

Tony McDade.

Black folks disproportionately dying at the hands of police officers.

Not only was it too early to return to "normal," health wise as Arizona hospitals receive the highest number of COVID patients yet, the "normal" officials want to return to is subjugation by race, class and gender.

We need a new normal.

We need protests, lootings, and attention. 

We need social change.

We need equity.

We need affirmative action.

We need government by the people, for the people, representing the race, creed, gender, religion of the people.

It's time for a government overthrow. Sure, the ballot is coming up in November, but if that doesn't work (and I'd bet money it won't work), it's time for something else.