Last week friends and I discussed and debated the best way to prepare a turkey. Dry brine? Wet brine? High heat? Butter? The conversation could have gone on forever. And, chances are that even with all our differences, each of us ended up with a delicious turkey.
But what if the turkey was rotten to start with? Would we even believe that the staple of our Thanksgiving could have come out of the bag somehow less than the product we assumed we would get?
Would we still argue over the best way to prepare it? Would we blithely do our best to wash away the odors and the slime, then cover up the issues with some melted butter and extra garlic? Just hope we don't poison our families and our guests?
Body cameras for police? Onions for the gravy. Grand jury reforms? A parsley garnish.
The turkey that is this country's culture is deeply contaminated. That line about "all men created equal"? It has yet to be embodied by these states we claim to be united.
Black lives matter.
Lives. That's far more than 'not deaths'--it's people growing and learning and thriving and loving.
I'm still listening. And still praying.
(PS: The turkey is just a metaphor. Sometimes metaphors aren't vegan-friendly.)