If Jesus groaned against the ills
That ravage human flesh,
How can I be conent?
If Jesus raged against the ways
We stigmatize—dehumanize—God’s children in their sickness,
How can I acquiesce?
If Jesus risked his very world—his place in society—his freedom to move, to preach, to be
To redeem just one more from the ravages of illness
The scorn of the world
The banishment of the “Church”
How can I shrink back?
Give me no comfort, Lord, in the face of the sicknesses
That ravage your children
That are used as weapons to exclude and mark “unclean!”
That are excuses for fear, for hatred, for isolation;
Give me only your angry compassion
Your compassionate anger
And the decency to say “I do want to.”
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