
“That Was the Week That Was” was a British TV show from the 60s that took a humorous look at the current events of the past week, a precursor to Saturday Night Live. Even I was too young in those days to remember the show, but oddly, the song from the beginning of the show still rattles around in my head. “That was the week that was; it’s over let it go. It started way above par and ended way below.” (ok, I didn’t really remember all the words, thank you Google.) Here on this Friday the sentiment is still true. That was the week that was, and what a week it was!
I started on Sunday, struggling to keep myself in the mode of worship and by Monday had chatted with so many who are struggling with loneliness and depression. The pandemic rages on while the vaccine rollout continues to crash websites and baffle most people. I am lucky; my daughter watched the websites and led me to sign up here and there. She led me to a site where I got an appointment just hours before the site crashed. Now the question is, will they still have vaccine when my turn comes.
I started to blog about ritual that help us stay connected to God and to each other. Rituals give us a small sense of control in a world that seems so out of control.
Then on Wednesday, like many of you I participated in one of the greatest rituals in our nation, the inauguration. It was such a high. Even without the crowds and some of the traditions, the ceremony brought us all the ritual of the transfer of political power. I for one, clung to the formality of the process and procedure and the American version of pomp and circumstance. (Seriously, did you check out Michelle Obama’s outfit, such a trend setter.)
I followed the lead of the TV anchors who would say with the excitement of breaking news, “let’s cut to the capital where the President is signing papers.” And I would eagerly respond. “Oh let’s.” Every signature, every moment was part of the process, part of the ritual. Watching it and appreciating every element made me a part of the ritual. That is the power of ritual even when only observed.
There were so many moments of the inauguration that sent chills down my spine. President Biden’s speech calling for unity. The songs by Lady Gaga and Jennifer Lopez and of course, Garth Brooks singing Amazing Grace (acapella.) Still, the poem by Amada Gorman took my breath away. I include it in today’s blog because there is no better way to end “the week that was.” Read it again. Let the words sink in. Each time I read it; some new portion speaks to me. Yes, read it again because that is how we let go of “the week that was” and begin climbing the hill in front of us.
Grace and Peace
Pastor Myra
The Hill we Climb by Amanda Gorman
When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade
We’ve braved the belly of the beast
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn’t always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken
but simply unfinished
We the successors of a country and a time
Where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
but that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect
We are striving to forge a union with purpose
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us
but what stands before us
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another
We seek harm to none and harmony for all
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew
That even as we hurt, we hoped
That even as we tired, we tried
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious
Not because we will never again know defeat
but because we will never again sow division
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
And no one shall make them afraid
If we’re to live up to our own time
Then victory won’t lie in the blade
But in all the bridges we’ve made
That is the promise to glade
The hill we climb
If only we dare
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy
And this effort very nearly succeeded
But while democracy can be periodically delayed
it can never be permanently defeated
In this truth
in this faith we trust
For while we have our eyes on the future
history has its eyes on us
This is the era of just redemption
We feared at its inception
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was
but move to what shall be
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation
Our blunders become their burdens
But one thing is certain:
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy
and change our children’s birthright
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,
we will rise from the windswept northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,
we will rise from the sunbaked south
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover
and every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid
The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it
If only we’re brave enough to be it
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