It’s the wrong question.
Or, rather, it’s the wrong question if asked as a referendum re Obama.
Is Obama responsible for Citizens United? No.
Is he responsible for the NRA’s death-grip on Congress? No.
The Kardashians? Or weird and terrifying weather? No.
Racism? And how it impacts our criminal justice system? (In The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander’s analysis re Obama’s constraints made me sit up and pay attention.)
That my beloved father died two years ago? C’mon!
Indeed, I heard in Obama’s acceptance speech at the Democratic Convention a poignant reminder: “Hey! I’m the president. Not God.”
Here, in Bubbleland,* I feel God/Spirit moving. The real God—who shakes and moves through us. Whose love means that, yes, over the past four years my life HAS become better:
My family thrives. Which is another way to say: Grace happens.
My (diverse, integrated) neighborhood’s better connected—we even have young families living on the street, now. (How clear is that of God’s blessing? That parents have chosen to raise their children, here!) And one small action, a raised-bed vegetable garden in a neighbor’s back yard (we have little sun in our own), points the way to other shared, sustainable neighborhood initiatives.
Bubbletown streets are filled with bikes and hybrids, now; each a reassurance that, yes, the paradigm is shifting.
And speaking of paradigms, I sense that, WAY too slowly, the “Get tough on crime” mindset is morphing. And I take strength from my black and brown brothers and sisters who know, in a way that I never will know, that God’s time in not human time. And, like they have been doing/continue to do, to “hold on.” And, like them, keep showing up, keep praying.
More and more over the past four years I feel, my meeting’s been asking Spirit: What is asked of us? And listening for answers.
So: How does the truth Prosper among you?
* Bubbleland: My tiny Somerville/Cambridge world.