We made the world we’re living in and we have to make it over.” James Baldwin’s words echoed in my mind, a stark indictment and a daunting call to action. I thought of Luke 13:34, the lament for Jerusalem, and how easily those words could be transposed onto the marble and power of Washington, D.C.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it.” Today, perhaps Saint Luke would weep for a different city, a city where prophets are not killed with stones, but with the subtle, corrosive acid of political maneuvering.
I remember meeting Senator Alan Simpson, a man of plainspoken wisdom and a disarming wit. He was a breath of Wyoming air in the stifling humidity of D.C. During my confirmation, we shared a brief, pleasant conversation. But as I turned to leave, his smile vanished, replaced by a look of grim sincerity.
“Webb,” he said, his voice low, “you seem a decent sort. But you’ve come to a brutal place. You’ll be a target, mark my words. They’ll try to tear you down, to grind you to dust. Here in D.C., we don’t just stone people; we salt the earth where they fall, and when they start to heal, we pick at the scabs.”
His warning, delivered with the blunt honesty of a rancher, chilled me. It wasn’t just a prediction; it was a map of the battlefield I was about to enter, a battlefield where the weapons were whispers and the casualties were reputations.
Baldwin’s words, Simpson’s warning, and the biblical lament all converged, painting a picture of a world, a city, a system built on the very mechanisms of destruction. We’ve constructed a landscape of sharp edges and hidden traps, where progress is often measured in the ruins of those who dared to try.
But Baldwin’s statement wasn’t just a lament; it was a mandate. We made this world, and we have the power to remake it. Not through the violent, destructive impulse that has brought us to this point, but through a patient, deliberate act of creation.
Instead of the stoning and the scab-picking, we need a different kind of politics, a different kind of leadership. We need gardeners, not lumberjacks. We need those who understand that nurturing the roots, enriching the soil, and providing the steady nourishment of water yields far greater fruit than the indiscriminate swing of a chainsaw.
We must cultivate the institutions we cherish, not dismantle them. We must foster dialogue, not division. We must seek common ground, not scorched earth. The task is immense, the challenge daunting. But the alternative – a world consumed by its own destructive impulses – is unthinkable.
Let us heed Baldwin’s call. Let us transform the city that stones its prophets into a garden where wisdom can flourish. Let us, together, “make it over.”
Thank you Webb.