Silky’s Sports Bar was one of my favorite places to hang out. They had great cheese-steaks, 1 lb burgers, and they served green eggs and ham on March 17th. It was a two-story building and a with a balcony. If I got a seat at the railing, I could see every television in the place. Great for March Madness.
There was a great book store, too. My mom laughed the first time I told her I spent a Friday night hanging out at the bookstore in this neighborhood. It was where I began to discover a love for reading. Who knew books were for more than assignments?
There was a record store that I spent countless hours and zero dollars in because they just sold records. (I didn’t have a turntable.)
I worshiped at Sixth Presbyterian Church and one Sunday had the privilege of exchanging the peace of Christ with Fred Rogers himself.
This was Squirrel Hill.
Hate scored a small victory on Saturday, ending the lives of 11 people who were minding their business, exercising a right that is guaranteed to every single person in the country.
Every single person.
But Hate crept in.
Hate thought it won.
Here’s the thing. Tonight I went to a memorial service at the synagogue around the corner from my house. There, I, a Christian minister, sat next to a Muslim Imam, as we grieved the loss of our Jewish brothers and sisters. We prayed together. We sang together. We recognized and honored the fact that we are all part of one human family.
One human family.
We were all there together. Muslim. Christian. Jew. All of us. One family.
So take that, Hate. And stick it.
It always will.