We, of the majority caste, are largely innocents. By “innocent” I mean clueless about the way history has privileged some and impoverished others. If we are to move toward a future beyond the fatal consequence of our transgressions, we must lose our innocence. We have hard work to do, patient work, risky work, but worthy, inspiring, hopeful work.

Take a hand. Make your vow. Gird your loins. Declare an allegiance beyond the tip of your nose. Step over your contented threshold and out of your comfort zone. Prepare for turbulence, maybe threat. Make alliances across racial and class and cultural boundaries. Cultivate the kind of imagination needed to resist cultural conformity and nationalist fervor.

Nurture a faith rooted deeply enough to withstand inevitable seasons of drought and tempest. Set your eyes on a horizon beyond every available dictate. Never forget that history belongs to the interceding intercessors.

These are our disciplines, and sometimes they are arduous. But they are not imposed by a divine taskmaster. They are the overflow of joy, the product of ecstatic vision capable of tracing Creation’s promise, to Resurrection’s assurance, recollecting the Prophet’s assertion that wolf and lamb will lie shorn of threat and the Revelator’s conclusion that, one day, death will be no more.