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30  Soldiers Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:29–30 A tall black man sings his way down West Warren Avenue, spreading Motown throughout Dearborn, the Camelot Theatre’s yellowed marquee proclaiming a sci-fi flick as if still open for business—a nineteen-fifties donut shop still serving the same baby boomers who frequented this place. Songs provide memories uncontrolled, unprescribed, pastries going down like soldiers, the man in his Goodwill fatigues belting off-key like the man sitting next to me at Taizé, his voice settling into bass against a bastion of tenors and sopranos. We would become soldiers in the army of God to the boy who spoke his prayer to the masses, rhetorical devices shuttering in the sun like cameras flashing for the hero of the day— the clicking of buttons a language of lament, our harmony hallowed each time we sing in God alone my soul can find rest and peace as if glory had come and gone before we arrived. ...

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