You know how we look back now at how we treated aboriginal children by sending them to residental schools and think, “How could people of faith do that?”
You know how we look back now at how African Americans were brought as slaves to North America and think, “How could people of faith do that?”
You know how we look back at the Holocaust and think, “How could people of faith let that happen?”
You know how we look at ourselves now and think about all the hungry and homeless in our world and think, “How are we people of faith allowing this to still happen?”
Sometimes I think future generations will look back and say, “How could people of faith not recognize the souls of all created things?”
Some Questions You Might Ask
by Mary Oliver
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn’t?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?