In which we breathe in solidarity with the breathless.

In which we groan in harmonic relationship with the suffering.

In which we dream in creative union with the author

of life’s manifesto:

decrying death,

deploring despotism,

denouncing the cynicism of despair,

and all of its minions and weapons.

In which we listen as though our survival depended upon it

for the cry of the most vulnerable,

the squeezed and the pushed, coerced and contained,

that they may deliver us from our contracted conscience. 

Because this Labor Day, it will not do to put profit ahead of the prophets’ concern for the will of God, which to do justice, to love mercy, to prefer the lives of children to the capital that is generated by weapons of massive destruction, and the families of the children of God to the false narrative that we are born with unequal rights to dignity, respect, and the compassion of our neighbours …

We know that the whole creation has been groaning together as it suffers together the pains of labor, and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:22)