I’m cheating today. I am sharing an opinion post that I didn’t write but saw shared on Facebook (Thanks to Gaylan for sharing!) It comes from a former West Virginia legislator. I have thought about,and had a lot of discussions about her topic. It is one reason why I write this blog. She puts it on paper (or screen) far better than I could. I’ve included a link to the article at the bottom of the page.

OPINION: Bearing witness is our moral responsibility

By Cindy Lavender-Bowe,

There comes a point when silence becomes complicity. For me, that point has passed. I can no longer look away from the cruelty unfolding in this country — in our politics, in our institutions, in the daily lives of people whose humanity feels negotiable. 

Looking away would be easier. It would let me shield my comfort, protect my peace of mind, and tell myself that someone else will step forward. But silence carries a cost. Silence isn’t neutral. As Elie Wiesel warned, “What hurts the victim most is not the cruelty of the oppressor, but the silence of the bystander.” 

That truth weighs heavily on me. Silence does not protect the powerless; it strengthens the oppressor. It allows cruelty to flourish unchallenged in the shadows. Every time we turn away, every time we avoid the discomfort of speaking, we help normalize what should never be normal. 

I believe we each carry a moral responsibility to bear witness. That means more than just seeing. That conviction is also shaped by my faith. As an Episcopalian, I have been taught that we are called to seek justice, respect the dignity of every human being, and to love our neighbors not in silence, but in truth. For me, that faith cannot live in neutrality. It requires us to see, to name, and to speak. As retired Bishop Michael Curry has said, “It is because we love God and because we love our country that we want to respond in ways that are healthy, holy, and true.” 

Bearing witness means choosing to look when it would be easier to look away. It means allowing ourselves to feel the weight of what others endure. It means naming injustice for what it is, remembering it so it cannot be erased, and sharing it so that the truth has a chance to breathe. Cruelty thrives in silence, but bearing witness drags it into the light. 

History has taught us that injustice rarely begins in extremes. It grows quietly, slowly, in the everyday silences — in the moments when ordinary people tell themselves it’s not their fight, or that their voices won’t matter. But those silences pile up, and before long they become the dirt in which injustice takes root. 

I don’t want to be one of those silences. I don’t want my comfort to come at the expense of  someone else’s suffering. I don’t want my quiet to be mistaken for consent. To me, bearing witness  is a way of saying: I see this. I will not forget it. I will not pretend it isn’t happening. 

Bearing witness doesn’t mean I have every solution or the power to fix everything that’s broken. But it does mean I refuse to accept cruelty as inevitable. To bear witness is to resist the temptation of indifference. It is an act of resistance — but it is also an act of love. Love for truth. Love for justice. Love for the radical belief that every person is entitled to dignity. 

That’s why I’ve made a choice: I refuse to be complicit. I choose to see. I choose to name. I choose to remember. I choose to share. 

And I believe we all must do the same. Each of us has a voice, a platform, a circle of influence, no matter how modest. Each of us has the capacity to bear witness. Each of us can choose courage over silence. 

The question isn’t whether cruelty exists — it does. The question is whether we will let it pass  unchallenged. History will remember not only the harm done, but also who looked away. 

So let us be the generation that refused to look away. Let us be the ones who bore witness, who spoke  truth, who loved humanity enough to stand up when it mattered most. Because the time for silence is  over. The time to speak up is now. 

As the song reminds us: “Rise. You can’t be neutral on a moving train. And if hope could grow from dirt  like me, it can be done. Won’t let the light escape from me, Won’t let the darkness swallow me.” 

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Cindy Lavender-Bowe is a small business owner, former West Virginia legislator, and history teacher. A longtime  community advocate, she has spent her career in nonprofit leadership, public service, and entrepreneurship, with a  focus on strengthening communities and protecting democracy. An Episcopalian, she grounds her public life in a  belief that faith calls us to bear witness and speak out against injustice. She is also a devoted Pearl Jam fan,  convinced that “Down” belongs on every playlist— political or otherwise.

https://therealwv.com/2025/10/28/opinion-bearing-witness-is-our-moral-responsibility/