Sackcloth and Ashes

I always thought wearing sackcloth and ashes seemed like an odd way to express mourning and sadness. This biblical practice was a physical expression of anguish and grief over sin and a way of visibly demonstrating repentance. If anyone tried to do that in Los Angeles today, they would probably find themselves quickly arrested or written off as crazy. Yet, I do wish we had a modern equivalent because we as a city need an old testament prophet to call us to repentance. Would Los Angeles listen? Would we turn from our evil ways?

The incident that sparked this post happened on the Sunday before Labor Day in Westlake a few miles from where I live. On Tuesday, I ran into a friend near USC who told me about a fatal shooting at a bus stop near her house by the police. Manuel Jamines was a Guatemalan immigrant who appeared to be drunk and threatened a few people with a knife. According to some reports, he didn't speak Spanish or English. An officer opened fire and killed him with two shots in the head. Immediately the area around McArthur Park erupted in pent-up anger against the police for a seemingly senseless murder when non-lethal force could have been used. For three nights in a row, people filled the streets, blocked traffic, rolled dumpsters down the hill and the news media eagerly covered all the chaos in breathless detail.

Late on Tuesday, when I gave my friend a ride home from USC, we started seeing crowds of people gathering in the streets. People crossed in front of my car without seeming to care whether I stopped and when I tried to turn left, someone deliberately placed an orange cone in front of my car and stared at me. They gestured for me to turn around and go back. They finally moved when my friend rolled down her window and said she just wanted to go home. She lives across the street from the Rampart police station and cops and their cars were all over the place. On my way home, three cop cars blocked my way and one officer flashed his light and made me turn around. By this point, I was starting to panic and wondered if I'd be able to find a way home safely out of the chaos. Fortunately, I made it home safely, but it was a close call.

That night, I lay awake, wanting to weep for the brokenness of my city. The community lives in fear of the police who are supposed to protect us, but instead they so often seem to bring strife. The police claim they act in self-defense and only use necessary force, but too often the headlines are filled with their indiscriminate abuse of power.

We are called the City of Angels, but sometimes all I see is evil around me. Perhaps we need to rediscover how to weep and cry out against injustice and ask God to heal our land, to bring restoration and wholeness to our city. Let us remember to pray for peace and perhaps go find some sackcloth...