What would it be like, I wonder, if I was an ant marching in the GOP brigade?
I could turn my back to gay suicides.
Perhaps I would feel nothing knowing unarmed black men are being shot and killed by police officers.
As people are sick and dying, I could wave my insurance card in their face while hiding my metaphorical middle fingers in my pockets.
I could give a “mulligan” to a president that has never shown any other behavior but sexist immorality.
He’s “saved” now, right?
Never mind the racist comments. I could forget the degradation of Hispanics and ignore the Muslim and transgender ban. None of that would bother me, because it would be ok to demonize another because they weren’t born in my shoes. My shoes are more superior, obviously, the Bible says so.
If only I could fathom telling a rape victim she’s a murderer for choosing an abortion. I would truly expect her to carry that horrific trauma for the next nine months. No way could I imagine why she would go to the clinic. No way would I give her a hug instead. Stones would be more appropriate. It is what Republican Jesus would do.
However, as much as I try and understand, I don’t. I don’t like republican Jesus, nor could I worship him. I do not hear his voice. I hear the voice of a brown-skinned, middle eastern Jew that came to revolutionize the world with a simple message of loving your neighbor. He called out the hypocrites, flipped tables on the religious leaders of the day, and refused to cast a stone at an adulteress. He worked on the Sabbath, breaking the law. He was killed at the hands of the empire, much like the one we have today.
Jesus wasn’t protected under a constitution, but we are. We can speak. We can choose to follow a different path and refuse the comforts of conformity. We can all now truly understand the love it took for Jesus to cry from the cross “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.”
There is still time to leave the brigade, and my hands will forever be reached out, waiting. Extending forgiveness to even to you, Donald Trump, because you know not what you do.
If only I could just walk the line.
If only I could join you in ranking.
But if I did,
I wouldn’t be me, I’d be you.
Another ant in the marching.
I’d disappear into the masses,
lost in the crowd,
silenced among men
with their drums.
Yet I must follow a different beat
of a battle that is already won.
So onward, wandering ants.
You were born for your travels.
Others will soon
leave the line,
And we’ll continue to gain one more.
“And all the little ants are marching
Red and black antennas waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way”
Dave Matthews Band