Memorial Day 2025

I choose to be a witness

“Please, tell me how to hold it all?” she asks me in an email.
In other words, in a fragile world, how do we rise above the weight of the noise? And, is it even possible to make a difference?

My gut reaction was this: I wish I knew the answer.

And I remember with gratitude, Elie Wiesel. He survived the World War II Nazi concentration camp of Buchenwald and death camp of Auschwitz. After liberation, he lived in France, Israel and the United States, where he advocated on behalf of victims of hate and persecution around the world. He died in 2016, at the age of 87.
Wiesel dedicated his life to the fight against all hatred, and for the affirmation that every man and woman carries with them dignity, formed in the image of God.
During his life, Wiesel was called a messenger of peace, a humanitarian and a survivor. When asked, he liked to call himself simply, “a witness”.
And as a witness, Wiesel said, it was his duty to never let those who suffered be forgotten. "Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented," he said. "Sometimes we must interfere."

In answering the email exchange question, I’m answering another go-to question I received this week, “What exactly do we do?”
Today I have an answer. I am a witness. You are a witness.
As a witness, I choose to pay attention while I am here.
In a world that rewards “dog eat dog”, I choose mercy. In a world where demeaning someone is applauded, I choose to honor dignity. In a world where exclusion is real, I choose the Gospel: “You belong. Your humanity is not up for negotiation. Your presence does not require anyone’s permission.”
What does this look like? Oh, it’s the little gifts my friends. It makes a big difference to hug the hurt. To kiss the broken. To bandage the wounded. To befriend the lost. To love the lonely. To stand up for the humiliated. Little gifts of compassion, connection, dignity, empathy, kindness, generosity, peace that leave people better than we find them.
When people learn that I am a minister, they’re often curious to ask what I “believe”. And when I visit different churches, some people like to ask me. They can’t help themselves.

Okay, here you go: God has a heart for those who are left out, forgotten, and excluded.

God's grace is bigger than anything which distances and separates and wounds us.

You are God's beloved child, and God's love for you is unconditional.
And when I see acts of exclusion, or acts that disparage inclusion, I feel it, viscerally, and my beliefs matter, and they summon and fuel a choice: I want to be a witness to God’s Mercy and Grace.

I loved this recently from Pope Leo XIV,
“Saint Augustine, who was also a convert, spoke of the same experience in these words: ‘How can we choose, unless we have first been chosen? We cannot love, unless someone has loved us first.’ At the root of every vocation, God is present, in his mercy and his goodness, as generous as that of a mother who nourishes her child with her own body for as long as the child is unable to feed itself.”

It is no surprise that I am frequently drawn to the story of the good Samaritan. I like Thomas Merton’s take, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love.”

So. Let us carry with us Viktor Frankl’s helpful reframing, “The question can no longer be ‘What can I expect from life?’ but can now only be ‘What does life expect of me?’ What task in life is waiting for me?” (Yes to Life: In Spite of Everything)

Here’s the deal: “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind.” David Orr

I can choose to be a peacemaker. And a bridgebuilder.

“Here's to the bridge-builders, the hand-holders, the light-bringers, those extraordinary souls wrapped in ordinary lives who quietly weave threads of humanity into an inhumane world. They are the unsung heroes in a world at war with itself. They are the whisperers of hope that peace is possible. Look for them in this present darkness. Light your candle with their flame. And then go. Build bridges. Hold hands. Bring light to a dark and desperate world. Be the hero you are looking for. Peace is possible. It begins with us.” L.R. Knost

I agree. However, sometimes, I am broken. Very broken. And I don’t have the words. And I don’t have the strength. So, how can I be a witness then?
Well, this is interesting. You see, compassion (service and care) and healing (restoration) are not mutually exclusive. Because the light we share is born in those broken places. Which means that being a witness goes hand in glove with renewal.

In other words, we find replenishment and we choose to be a witness. This is not a pep talk. This is not a test to pass. Or a list I check off for God’s thumbs up. This is permission; the invitation and the affirmation to be and to live, wholeheartedly and kindheartedly, the truth of who I am.

Please know this my friends: it is from this self—the broken or wounded self—that compassion and kindness and tenderness and empathy and healing and reconciliation can flow.

Enjoy your Memorial Day. Savor moments, with friends and family, with good food, with a wee nap in the sun (or shade, for those of you in warmer states). Terry Hershey @Sabbath Moments

“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world... would do this, it would change the earth.” William Faulkner