A Bigger Heart and Smaller Head for the Old Colossus
I'm trying to square something. A headline from out of the Big Apple says the President may cut aid to Jordan and Egypt if they do not accept displaced Gazans. Sounds to me like the President expects those people over there to be good neighbors.
Meanwhile, here at home, the President says we the United States of America will no longer make room for the displaced. Take your tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore, and go back to where you came from.
(Unless you came from Gaza, then go to Jordan or Egypt. Having financed your destruction, we will now roll the dice and win ourselves a fortune where you once fed your goats in the morning sun)
This is the Golden Age of America, we lift our lamp and proclaim you will do what we say, not like we do.
How big has our own head become. I fear that soon it will be so big we will be
displaced.
(Who, then, will take us in?)
Maybe Emma Lazarus will rise from her grave, lead us back down to the shore. Maybe our oars will still be there, dried and cracked from years of forgetful living on land but still intact we will board our ships and shove off, if only to return and remember our own great need for home and country.
I'm the one on the left. That's my favorite part on the right. I'm an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church (USA) and the United Church of Christ. I work as Minister to a parish community in Cumberland, RI. That I could also see myself as a farmer, a cowboy, or Thoreau sitting pond-side at Walden is probably not insignificant. I don't blog about anything in particular, but everything I blog about is particularly important to me. That it may be to you as well is good enough for me.
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