Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?
Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?
[Chorus]
Would you harbor a Christian, a Muslim, a Jew? A heretic, convict, or spy?
Would you harbor a runaway woman or child? A poet, a prophet, a king?
Would you harbor an exile or a refugee? A person living with AIDS?
Would you harbor a Tubman, a Garret, a Truth? A fugitive or a slave?
Would you harbor a Haitian, Korean, or Czech? A lesbian or a gay?
These stunning words were written by Ysaye Barnwell and sung by Sweet Honey in the Rock. I’ve been lucky enough to sing them in choir, and feel the power of the harsh harmonies and the space they create to build connections that allow you to answer “Yes!” to these questions. Or so you believe when you’re singing it.
This song has been haunting me since the day after the last No Kings Rally. When speaking to the community, our Valley’s Rabbi announced that she had been escorted to the Rally because she has been targeted — and she was afraid. Another friend, a Black woman has admitted to me that she feels unsafe. My friends are afraid. Am I going to stand in support for them when my risk is so much less? Do I have a harbor – by which I mean Peace – to offer?
I work in a hospital full of Nurses, Residents, Doctors, who come from far away to learn and to serve in our Susquehanna River Valley, providing excellent medical care. What if they’re targeted here in this Valley where they are unlike so many in Race, Nationality, and Religion. Do I have a harbor – by which I mean Peace – to offer?
As I sit here writing, I’m well aware of my privilege as a white woman, working as a chaplain, whom most presume to be Christian. I’m old enough to take myself seriously and thus others do as well. This gives me an advantage that others don’t have. Do I have a harbor – by which I mean Peace – to offer? If not, why not?
If I am a Peacemaker, I don’t get to create Peace in the small sweet comfortable corners. Now hopefully, nothing serious happens to my friend — oh, right, serious things have already happened. To my friends, and to many friends I haven’t made yet.
Now, here I sit contemplating the end of the Snap subsidies and the resultant desperation that will cause. The Takery, our group of retired and/or aging Sunbury clergy is gathering to consider what we can do. Wherever you are, your Pantries will be working to fill the gaps until the government of the people decides to come back to Washington and do its work. What kind of harbor will we build?
This week I have a lot of questions. I hope by next week when I write, I will have some answers about the Peace harbors I will be helping to build. I will be in prayer and conversation with my particular friends, to whom I owe loyalty and support, without whom my reasoning becomes one-sided. So while I sing this song, I also sing myself another song, written by Bernice Johnson Reagon for Sweet Honey in the Rock, “A Song for Ella” written for Ella Baker, the chorus of which goes
We who believe in Freedom cannot rest
We who believe in Freedom cannot rest until it comes.
Only when I sing it to myself, I sing it as I first learned it as a “zipper song” with substitution words, as you often sing it at a rally, with only the chorus words. If you know me, you know at least one of the verses I’m singing is changed to suit my quest:
We who believe in Peace cannot rest
We who believe in Peace cannot rest until it comes.
You sing it too, ok? Let’s keep singing until next week when I can come to you with some ways we might build harbors for We the People — all of us.
Salaam, Shalom, Peace, and Blessed Be.