Redemption Songs

"These songs of freedom"

Lately I’ve been dancing to a reggae mix early in the morning. On these cold days when the wind chill cuts my walks short, dancing fills the need to move. And it always lifts my heart.

Reggae, to me, is the music of liberation. In college, after Liberation Theology class, my pals and I would convene in our tiny dorm lounge to dance to Get Up, Stand Up, marveling at the connection between lecture and lyrics: Contrary to popular belief, God won’t “come from the sky…and make everybody feel high.” Instead, God is here and now, on this plane, though grossly misused to perpetuate inequality and separation—the “ism schism game,” as Bob Marley brilliantly put it.

See also: Exodus.

My folks first bought a Bob Marley album when I was about 13. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were hopelessly uncool, as was our whole family, but we had excellent taste in music.

At the time, I don’t think any of us knew what a towering figure he was in the music world. Or what a prophetic voice. The record was procured after hearing reggae for the first time, while visiting family who’d moved to Grand Cayman—an island vacay on the cheap.

I remember the resonance of the last track, “Redemption Song.” I doubt I grasped the significance of the lyrics, as a kid. I certainly didn’t get that Bob Marley was talking about the transatlantic slave trade. Much less quoting Marcus Garvey: “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds.”

Then again, the title of the album—“Uprising”—was pretty much lost on me. (I looked for it at Mom’s this afternoon, thinking to take a photo for you, but sadly it is no longer in the family. Instead, here’s a lovely stock image of the man himself.)

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Absorbing his songs as an adult, I see that he’s singing about liberation both internal and external. Agitating for equality and owning one’s truth.

I collect stories of people who emancipated themselves from patterns of separation and hatred. Here are a few “songs of freedom.”

1. In a documentary called Refuge, a white nationalist leader finds his stereotypes upended when a Muslim physician, a refugee, reaches out to him. His hateful worldview crumbles in the face of the man’s calm and settled kindness.

2. Rich Logis, who founded the nonprofit Leaving MAGA, was once a devotee of DT. Not anymore. Now he helps others who want to break free of the cult.

3. I can’t find him now in the morass of social media, but an evangelical pastor had an eloquent post about feeling the love of LGBTQ people…and realizing how little of what he’d been taught made sense. He breaks with his own fellow church members who support the regime. (Also, read The Exvangelicals.)

4. Similarly, Megan Phelps-Roper left Westboro Baptist Church (of “God Hates Fags” infamy) and now works to bring reconciliation. What got her to question her tightly held beliefs? A compassionate Twitter exchange with the man who would later become her husband.

5. Then there’s the white supremacist who took up a phone harassment campaign against a Jewish rabbi. The rabbi would leave messages on his answering machine: “Why do you hate me? You don’t even know me,” and “There’s a lot of love out there. You’re not getting any of it. Don’t you want some?”
   
   As I wrote in 2016, one night the man’s swastika rings began to burn and itch, and he took them off. Eventually he called the rabbi in tears, saying, “I want to get out of what I’m doing and I don’t know how.” They became friends. The man converted to Judaism, renouncing the Klan and making amends to many of his targets. In the end the people he’d despised became his family.

I hold on to stories like these. Stories of personal transformation against tremendous odds. What do they have in common? Relationships.

In an age of siloed news sources and ever-increasing estrangement…relationships are more important than ever.

Imagine that everything your algorithm, peers, church, pundits, and leaders present is fear-based incitement to scapegoat the Other. Your nervous system is on high alert, your brain inflamed.

Your wormhole is deep and dark and narrow.

If you were down that wormhole, would you respond to yelling, shaming, and ridicule? I always think of cult survivor Steven Hassan, who now runs the Freedom of Mind Resource Center. When he finally broke free of the Moonies, his family didn’t berate him for his destructive behavior, the ugly things he’d said. They welcomed him back with open arms.

Let’s be ready when people start to see the light. Let’s not shut them out for falling for DT’s disastrous messaging. I’m not saying everyone can have the generous spirit of the rabbi, or the gentle patience of the Muslim refugee. Nor am I saying accountability isn’t important. But I hope we can let compassion lead the way.

Evening sky in the city, a few days before snow and cold socked us in