When Jay Janson declared, “You’re writing history with your breath,” I recognized the profound truth in his words. For Jay speaks not in ephemeral metaphors, but in potent mandates, each utterance a call to profound moral engagement. He is more than a historian; he is a living archive, a relentless prosecutor of empire who wields facts, fiery conviction, and unshakeable faith to bring hidden truths to light. His testimonies are not dry academic dissertations; they are ancestral echoes, resonant with the cries of the silenced.
I recall his presence at Riverside Church’s Peace and Global Justice ministry – not as a transient guest, but as an enduring witness to humanity’s struggle. And when his gaze met mine, an exile from Ghana, a chaplain without a conventional pulpit, he saw beyond my lack of credentials. He sought not my qualifications, but my very breath, my life force, inviting me into a shared space of moral reckoning.
His second testimony, delivered on February 2, 2021, transcends mere documentation; it is a solemn liturgy of remembrance. With the dispassionate precision of a surgeon dissecting truth and the profound grief of a mourner bearing witness, Jay meticulously recites the names of nations subjected to U.S. bombing: Korea, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, Panama, Grenada, Iraq, Libya, Yemen, Syria. More than a litany, it is an act of resurrection, each name reclaimed from the annals of forgotten violence.
“How would Americans feel if bombed and invaded by their veterans like 13 smaller countries were?” Jay asks, not to incite anger, but to ignite a collective awakening. He demands that America confront its historical memory, not merely celebrating its triumphs, but bravely acknowledging its transgressions. He speaks movingly of veterans haunted by the ghosts of war, returning home to battles within, where suicide rates tragically eclipse combat fatalities. He insists on a moral reckoning that cannot be outsourced or ignored, highlighting the thousands who have joined movements like Veterans For Peace and Veterans Against War – not out of weakness, but because they are profoundly wounded by inconvenient truths.
Jay’s moral compass is global; his memory, unflinching; his prophetic fire, incandescent. And I, who once felt like “The Big Baby in Exile,” now walk purposefully beside him. My own journey, rooted in Ghana and profoundly shaped by my baptism at Riverside Church under the guiding hand of Rev. Dr. James A. Forbes – an introduction facilitated by the visionary Mrs. Angella Forbes Freeze – is a direct continuation of Jay’s formidable witness. My forthcoming book, The Big Baby in Exile, consciously carries Jay’s testimonies not as mere endorsements, but as sacred affirmations, essential chapters in a lineage of justice that resolutely refuses to forget.
Jay Janson is more than a historian; he is a spiritual guide, a chaplain ministering to a world scarred by conflict. His enduring legacy reminds us that true prophets do not simply fade away; their moral clarity and courageous witness echo and multiply across generations, inspiring all who seek justice and truth.
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