The Lord Hears the Cry of the Poor
When words, like those above, entwine musical notes with scales climbing great depths, a heart cry unites human and divine longing.
A black and white conversation, thousands of miles away, ten days after George Floyd’s deafening cry. Short, between strangers, at a stop light. In the pouring rain, like tears.
Ironically a white man in a black car and a black man on a white scooter, lane beside lane.
White man so wanting to roll down the window and speak, but afraid to offend, to step over a line, to get yelled at, rejected by race. The light changes and self-disappointment churns words and stomach from courage into cowardice.
Another light signals another chance.
“Yes, you can!”
“Risk the right thing!”
White rolling down the window. Black looking over.
“I am so sorry what you have to go through as a black male.”
Louder the voice, and louder the inside fear.
“I really mean it!”
“I mean it with all my heart!” A burst into tears.
“Thank you!” and turning left, one last sideway glance.
The LORD heard the cry of the poor.
I know. I was that poor white man at the light.
-Fr. Joe Driscoll
Editor’s Note: Here is a link to the song the writer references: “The Cry of the Poor” by John Foley, SJ