8/22/21

By Josh Rubin

Barbarians at the gate. No, not outside the gate. Inside.

I suppose there are some folks reading this who live in gated developments. Maybe there is a guard who raises and lowers a bar depending on whether you are recognized. Maybe you have a combination of numbers that you punch into a keypad. Maybe you slide a card into a slot and the door lock clicks or rattles open for you.

There are people outside those gates, many more than inside. In fact, there is a whole world out there. Inside we cower behind the barriers we set up, not quite confident that we can defend ourselves against the strangers who come, in growing numbers. Strangers who are driven by need. Driven by hope. Driven by fear.

As we are. Driven by fear. Fear of the ferocity of claims on us. Fear that the gates will not hold. That the plagues of disease and extreme climate and social chaos will cross the feeble gates we build as easily as the birds who fly heedless across the sky.

Last night there was a hurricane. It ignored every gate in our gated America. It did not not even slow down.