Love Yourz
I learned about the music of J. Cole, an American Rapper and social activist, on Monday afternoon at the Bible study I lead at the St. Louis County Jail. The women and I had just finished reading John 20: 19- 30. This is the story of the resurrected Jesus returning to the fear-filled disciples who have locked themselves up in a room. Jesus busts through their fear and says, “Peace be with You”. His hands and side still carry the wounds of all that he’s been through. This part of the story got them talking about their own scars. During this conversation, one woman quoted parts of Cole’s song, Love Yourz. “It’s beauty in the struggle . . “
The women were open about their own broken places, but also about the ways healing was happening despite everything. One woman shared how she was now enrolled at Fon du Lac Tribal and Community College and hoped to be a social worker. She had worked at an apartment complex for low–income seniors. She loved that work. She also had been a beautician so on Sundays she had given the residents free haircuts. She was hoping to get out of jail soon and into work release so she could continue her studies and the haircuts.
Another woman shared how she was going to prison for a short stay and after that she would be off paper (probation) for good. She had been involved in the legal system since she was 12, which was more than half her life. Being off paper seemed to give her the chance to dream of a new beginning. She hoped to work as a CNA at a home health care agency. And she was looking forward to being with her supportive and sober partner again. She was the one who said it’s just like the song “Love Yourz.” And she planned to have the words, “It’s beauty in the struggle” tattooed on her chest.
What struck me throughout our conversation was the ways the women wanted out of the room they had locked themselves into so that they could help others. There was a moment peace in just being together, in praying and laughing together. And I felt the refrain from Love Yourz permeate our time together, “There is no such thing as a life better than yours.”
Cole’s refrain is a lot like the quote from Ram Dass that I often use with the women, “We’re all just walking each other home.” The ground under our feet is sacred. And we need to help one another as we make our way back to the One we came from.
I learned this in a very special way years ago on one Ash Wednesday when I was allowed to bring ashes to the jail for any of the women who wanted this ritual. I went around the circle with ashes mixed with oil making the sign of the cross on the women’s foreheads saying, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return, but the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.”
I was stopped halfway around the circle. Three of the women who were Native American wanted the ashes NOT on their foreheads, but on their feet. For these women, the ashes were symbols of the ancestors. The ashes represented all those who had gone before, who share their wisdom in the wisdom of the earth. They wanted the ashes on tops of their feet to remember everywhere we walk is holy ground.
I thought of those women’s words again this past Ash Wednesday. It was a snowstorm in Duluth, but we had gotten away to Puerto Rico. When you walk the streets of Old San Juan you can’t help but notice the beautiful blue bricks under your feet. The stones are made from iron waste from smelting that was brought as ballast on British and Spanish ships in the 17th and 18th centuries. The ballast was unloaded and sugar, tobacco and gold were taken back across the Atlantic. Over time the rain and sea changed the color of the bricks to blue. The beautiful blue bricks contain powerful reminders of colonialism that still deeply impacts the island today.
Yes, the land and so many lives carry deep scars. And yet, there is beauty even in them. May we offer peace to one another just as the wounded Jesus did to the disciples who had locked themselves up in fear.
And may we remember “No such thing as a life that’s better than yours . .”
