Activism
My alarm went off at 5 a.m. today. As I sat up and unzipped my sleeping bag, a gust of Oklahoma wind bitterly ushered me into a new day. Drops of rain splashed my face, extinguishing the last few embers of my sleepiness.
As a Sojourners intern last year, I, along with my community-mates, had the opportunity to request speakers to invite to address us during weekly seminars. Peace activist and poet Fr. Daniel Berrigan was on the top of my list.
Over the past few days, I've had the privilege of representing Sojourners magazine at the annual Faith and Politics civil rights pilgrimage led by Congressman John Lewis.
The window is closing on comprehensive immigration reform. At least that's what the politicians in Washington are saying. They're afraid of more demagoguery. They're afraid of upcoming elections. They're afraid of the politics of fear.
The Southern Poverty Law Center has issued a frightening report on the explosive growth of extremist organizations on the radical right. It is hard to know how to account for this phenomenon.
A veteran activist speaks with a new generation of Christian justice workers.
Something sort of mystical and magical happened after a 19-year-old kid named Papito was killed on our block a few weeks ago. As our neighborhood ached and grieved and cried with his family, we began to create a memorial for Papito where he died
At about midnight we heard the shots ring out. My friend ran to the door and I heard him yell, "Shane, a kid has been shot, come down." As we looked down the street we could see a young man staggering as he walked down our block. Then his knees gave out and he fell to the ground. We called for an ambulance and ran outside to be with the boy.
On Saturday, Jan. 30, I attended a service in which one of my colleagues was being ordained as a deacon in the Anglican Church together with ten others who were being ordained either as priests or deacons. The presiding bishop was Archbishop Desmond Tutu! He delivered the sermon.
On Feb. 1, 1960, four African-American students sat down at the "whites-only" lunch counter at the F.W. Woolworth store in Greensboro, North Carolina. As I child, I was told by my late father that he took his youth group to participate in these sit-ins.
Tuesday morning -- just two days ago -- I wrote to half a dozen leaders of progressive thought and action in America, each separately, the letter that follows.