For anyone who listens to the radio, watches TV, reads a newspaper, leaves their home, or has a brain, these are hard times to maintain a positive outlook and look forward with a sense of hope.
With ISIS terrorizing people daily, climate change worsening by the hour, gun violence totally out of control and relentless campaign coverage that often features a dangerous buffoon, it is difficult to believe that the future looks bright. It is getting harder and harder to feel upbeat or optimistic — and I say this as a person of faith, someone in the hope business.
Because the news is so discouraging day in and day out, I have been searching for experiences that help me feel that we have made some real, tangible progress on political and social issues. Eager to feel that change is possible, and that we actually have won some victories, I find myself looking forward with great enthusiasm to the Pride March in downtown Northampton on May 7.
I have marched in this colorful and joyous parade for maybe 20 years. But I went as someone who loved the march and felt that allies should show support and fall in line with our LGBTQ siblings. I marched out of a sense of both desire and duty. I always had a great time, but I was also aware that it was not a good day to stay home, do chores, or make other plans — allies needed to show up and be counted.
This year I am approaching the Pride March differently. I am not going to be marching for any good social or political reason. I am not marching as an act of solidarity, or because I think allies should put on their sneakers and get out there. Rather, I will be marching in May because I feel I need to.
I need to see the pride and delight of a group once profoundly oppressed now slamming closet doors behind them. I need to feel the joy of accomplishment and hard-won progress. I need to witness the clear evidence that the movement for LGBT civil rights and civil liberties has successfully broken down barriers erected by religious institutions, state laws and national policies. I need to be immersed for a day in a movement that has won huge victories and knows how to shout that from the streets and celebrate that with abandon.
I need to be around success, and around hope. And so I will be marching in May — not really for anyone else but for myself, so I can feel better. I need to feel better and I know the Pride March will provide an infusion of joyous achievement and hard-won triumph.
What the Pride March will do for me this year is provide “a glimpse of the kingdom.” Progressive Christians, of which I am one, believe that our role on planet Earth is to stir up good trouble — to topple empires, to include the outcast, to feed the hungry, to combat greed, to show compassion, to extend hospitality. To express and live a radical love with an extravagant welcome. In other words, to create the kingdom of God on earth.
Every once in a rare moment, we glimpse the kingdom of God on earth. We glimpse the love, joy, inclusion, peace, justice and delight that we believe are the hallmarks of the kingdom of God. I will drag my tired feet to the Pride March because I know that, for a minute or two or maybe more, I will catch a glimpse of the kingdom.
I have marched for years. I have always been happy to be there, but I have also come with a sense of obligation. I have no such sense this year. I need the march far more than the march needs me. I need a dollop of hope. I need a dose of inclusion. I need to be part of a river of people who have tasted success after countless years of thankless, persistent, sometimes seemingly-hopeless movement work. I need a glimpse of the kingdom.
I know that on May 7, when the large crew from my wild and wonderful church takes our place in the staging area before stepping off to begin the march, I will see all God’s people wearing too many outrageous outfits, carrying too many rainbow flags, singing too loudly off key, and embracing too many people before the event even begins. And I will feel grateful, hopeful and happy.
The Rev. Andrea Ayvazian, pastor of the Haydenville Congregational Church, writes a monthly column on faith, culture and politics. She can be reached at opinion@gazettenet.com.