The poet David Whyte wrote, “To become human is to become visible.” In our present time of withdrawal in the face of Covid, what does it mean to awaken? To see? To be seen? We did not choose Covid; it built its walls around us, and we have had little choice but to stay behind our own walls, longing for what seems lost. We isolate ourselves out of love – our love for life, our love for others. But is it possible that the walls that protect us mirror a darker story we have never quite grasped? This sermon will take us back to a time when some people lived behind walls of their own making, built not of love but of exclusion. It will be a story of the invisible becoming visible, of the blind suddenly seeing, of the “inhuman” suddenly showing itself to be more human than many had imagined. It’s a story of race and renewal, of humanity growing and flowering, just a bit. It’s a tale of a small flower blooming its way through a thick hard wall; of the people who saw its beauty and of those who chose not to; and of the work that remains to be done.

Brian Griffin grew up in Soddy Daisy, Tennessee, and is now a resident of Knoxville. He has taught English and creative writing at The University of Virginia, Pellissippi State Community College, and The University of Tennessee. He was Youth Programs Coordinator for Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church for several years before becoming Director of Lifespan Religious Education there. His collection of poems about the TVUUC shooting, Single Lens Reflex, will be published in the fall.

Topics: acceptance, belonging, justice, kindness, racial issues