For years I’ve made the comment, when a conversation presented itself, to say I love politics. When I first studied government in 8th grade Civics class I thought I wanted to be a politician. I got involved with the mock United Nations in high school; I took political science classes as electives in college; I could not wait to register to vote. I took voting very seriously then and now. I sign about every petition that’s presented to me – not because I agree with what the petition supports, but because I believe in the democratic process.
“A democracy is a system of government where citizens have the power to elect their leaders and make decisions about how they are governed.
Characteristics of a democracy:
- Citizenship: Citizens are free to choose their government and can remove it if they want.
- Equality: All people are treated equally and have access to their rights, regardless of their race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation.
- Rule of law: The government is bound by the law and helps ensure that citizens respect the law.
- Free and fair elections: Citizens can vote for their leaders in a free and fair election
- Respect for human rights: The government respects human rights and fundamental freedoms.
- Separation of powers: The government is separated into branches.
- Bill of rights: The government protects civil rights and liberties, such as freedom of speech, press, and religion.
Other characteristics of a strong democracy include: Empowered citizens, Fair processes, Responsive policy, Information and communication, and Social cohesion.” From my notes from my Civics class in 1971.
One Sunday night in 1979 or 1980 a group of us from church went to hear Amy Grant. She was just beginning her career and her song “My Father’s Eyes” became my theme song.
I may not be every mother’s dream for her little girl, And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world. But that’s all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray: When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say, She’s got her father’s eyes, Her father’s eyes; Eyes that find the good in things, When good is not around; Eyes that find the source of help, When help just can’t be found; Eyes full of compassion, Seeing every pain; Knowing what you’re going through And feeling it the same. Just like my father’s eyes,My father’s eyes, My father’s eyes, Just like my father’s eyes. And on that day when we will pay for all the deeds we have done, Good and bad they’ll all be had to see by everyone. And when you’re called to stand and tell just what you saw in me, More than anything I know, I want your words to be, She had her father’s eyes.
And that’s how my faith compels me to advocacy – trying to see the world through God’s eyes, and fighting for a democracy that upholds the characteristic above; a democracy that takes care of the least of these.
Diana Butler Bass is a historian of Christianity and a writer and author. I subscribe to The Cottage – regular emails and podcasts and newsletters from her. Today she shared a 10-minute video she called “A Spiritual Pep Talk from the Shores of the Potomac.” She talked about the tough week it has been in Washington, DC where she lives. In her walk this morning she passed search and rescue teams and other responders looking for bodies from the horrific plane/helicopter crash. She stopped and prayed for all involved in that tragedy. She also talked about how our voices matter – even when we think we’re just a drop in the ocean. But as she said – the drops in the ocean that called Capitol Hill this week in an uproar about the freeze on federal funding certainly made a difference.
Each of us has the opportunity to be the voice that tilts the arrow toward a democracy as described above. Let’s continue to let our voices be heard.
Dr. Bass ended her video with this poem:
BECAUSE
by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
So I can’t save the world—
can’t save even myself,
can’t wrap my arms around
every frightened child, can’t
foster peace among nations,
can’t bring love to all who
feel unlovable.
So I practice opening my heart
right here in this room and being gentle
with my insufficiency. I practice
walking down the street heart first.
And if it is insufficient to share love,
I will practice loving anyway.
I want to converse about truth,
about trust. I want to invite compassion
into every interaction.
One willing heart can’t stop a war.
One willing heart can’t feed all the hungry.
And sometimes, daunted by a task too big,
I tell myself what’s the use of trying?
But today, the invitation is clear:
to be ridiculously courageous in love.
To open the heart like a lilac in May,
knowing freeze is possible
and opening anyway.
To take love seriously.
To give love wildly.
To race up to the world
as if I were a puppy,
adoring and unjaded,
stumbling on my own exuberance.
To feel the shock of indifference,
of anger, of cruelty, of fear,
and stay open. To love as if it matters,
as if the world depends on it.
Written by Vicki Haydon. Vicki has been a member of Second Baptist Church for over 60 years. She retired in 2015 after a 35 year career in the area of Fuel Tax auditing.