Write for Your Enemies

Or, a blessing for those who fear Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion

In yet another moment of rage after hearing yet another thing about “DEI” hires, I asked the Lord, “What do I do?” 

And that pesky Holy Ghost had the nerve to say: Pray for them. 

So I drafted a letter to my Congressperson. 

The rage didn’t subside.

Again: Pray for them. 

So I put away dishes and listened to a podcast. 

The rage didn’t subside.

Again: Pray for them. 

So I responded to comments on Facebook, listened to my daily Bach, watched funny reels, lit my writing candle. 

Still, the rage didn’t subside. 

Caryn! Pray for them. 

Fine! Ugh.

As it turns out, in my editing career and in my former church career, I’ve spent a lot of time on the crafting of prayers. Prayers may be easy to spout, to yell or gasp or sob out. But they’re less easy to write—whether writing liturgy, crafting a character’s prayer, or creating prayers in a devotional or prayer guide. 

In writing prayer, rhythm matters. As does pacing. Flow. Syntax. Imagery. Diction. Snap. And punch. I mean, these always matter in writing, but when we craft prayers to be read by others, to be used in community, our language needs to not only invite others into a holy space but to evoke spiritual response. Not just an intellectual or emotional one. 

After all, we’re writing to create space to go before God and for the Holy Ghost to sneak and speak into.

Add to that, people need to know what we’re talking about. But it’s a prayer—not a lecture. So a prayer must explain yet invite. Engage yet evoke.

Through it all, it must be true. 

This is humbling. This is difficult. 

And so, I thought I’d practice what I preach. It’s been a while since I’ve written a prayer—as such (I still believe all writing by people of faith is worship and prayer). So I’m rusty. 

And yet, in my rage, the Spirit won’t stop about praying for these enemies. Though the enemy list is long, as this began with a rant about the anti-DEI folks, I’ll start with them.  

The words that formed, however, are less a prayer and more a blessing (same-same-ish). A sharp blessing, of course, because this is me and that’s the only way I could make it true. 

So, okay, Spirit. Here I go. Have mercy. 

A Blessing for the Entitled*

May you realize—soon—

that you can’t bulldoze the playing field, 

     uninvite the visiting team, 

     grab your ball, 

     huff home,

     and declare yourself the winner. 

May you discover—quickly—

      that you can’t play alone 

      and call yourself the champ. 

     You can’t be the only one 
            considered 

     and somehow the “most qualified.”

May you learn this before 

     you humiliate yourselves further

     than you already have. 

Instead, may you see that you are able! 

	You can work hard.

	You can study hard.

	You can do better.

	You can be better.

You can compete—and win fair and square—

     like the rest of us have 

     and do.

That is, after all, how we get better. 

     That’s how we got better—

     than most of you. 

But I can see how this hurts.

	This country was set up for you.

	It was never supposed to be hard 

          for you 

          to get into school 

          or to get (the good) jobs.

But then we came along— 

     the women,

     the people of color, 

     the gays,

and those with different needs—

		into your workspaces.

		Into the systems set up for you! 

                    YOU!

Suddenly, things weren’t so easy. 

     You didn't get what you'd been promised!  
    

	You had to consider 

               others. 

And that was hard.

       It was so "unfair."

	And so, like all entitled people 

                     (Lord knows I have been there)

		you stomped.

			You whined.
                              
                             You belittled.

				And then you voted.

					Oh, how you voted. 

And now your wish is coming true.

Those of us who worked hard and “bootstrapped” 

     are now being ridiculed.

			We can now be fired or overlooked—legally.

You think you’ve won.

	You lick your lips 

               as you taste your “spoils.”

	It’s precious, really.

Because we know the truth
     We all know you’ve lost.

	Badly.

	Embarrassingly.

	You’ve become

           —in the words of your hero—

      losers. 

May you see that. 

	Because we sure do.

We see who you are,

	how you are,

		what you are.

	May you understand that in playing this hand,

		your weakness

		your vulnerability

		your laziness

		your frailty

		your snowflakey-ness— 

                   if you will—

          now shines on the world stage. 

          Into the universe beyond

          and into the highest heavens. 

In eliminating Diversity, Equity, Inclusion,

          in ending competition,

          may you understand that this move makes you weaker—

          not stronger.

	This move makes you less qualified—

          not more.

	This move makes you so much less 

          than you were made to be. 

But you can change this.

	It’s not too late.

May you see that competition is good for you.

     Competition is good for this country (Capitalism!).

     Competition is good for our families, 

          for our communities, 

          for our workplaces,

          for our schools. 

Competition shapes us, 

          grows us, 

          strengthens us.

May you learn to want that.

May you discover the beauty in this.

We know you’re afraid. 

	We know you feel unworthy.

	We see it.

	We smell it.

But good news!

God in God’s goodness assures us

that we are worthy—

     just because God loves us.

That we have no need to be afraid—

	 just because God is with us.

And, you are worthy.
     God loves you!

You don’t need to be so damned scared. 
     God is with you!

You are held and loved

          by the God of the universe.

         (Not more than the rest of us—

          but not less.)

May you feel this assurance and

	stop your shaking, 
             your stomping,

               your whining.

May you know this and regain

	your strength

	your work-ethic

	your decency

        your competitive spirit

        your courage

       your pride.  

May you learn this before it’s too late

	For you.

	For your family.

	For your community.

	For this country.

	For this world.

May you instead discover the beauty

	not only of hard work, 

         of competition,

	but of sharing with 

              and learning from

			the other.

It’s not so scary. 

So, go get your ball(s).
Come join us.    

And when you do, 

     may you be given the empathy 

     and shown the mercy 

          you scorn.

*I had many other titles for this. A Blessing for MAGA Men, for the Whiney Whites/for the Straight, White, Cishet, "Able" Body and Minded Men.... If you are angry about this, it's for you.