I feel sorry for anybody that could let hate wrap them up. Ain't

In the fiery and compassionate words of Fannie Lou Hamer, the declaration — “I feel sorry for anybody that could let hate wrap them up. Ain’t no such thing as I can hate anybody and hope to see God’s face.” — burns with the light of divine truth and human courage. It is not a statement of sentimentality, but of spiritual defiance — the wisdom of a woman who had suffered deeply and yet refused to surrender her soul to bitterness. Born of oppression, shaped by struggle, these words speak not only to her faith but to the enduring power of love over hatred, the victory of the spirit over darkness. In them, Hamer gives voice to one of the oldest lessons of humankind: that hatred may wound the body, but it is forgiveness that frees the soul.

The meaning of this quote lies in its profound understanding of the destructive nature of hate. When Hamer says she feels “sorry” for those wrapped in it, she does not speak from superiority but from pity — for she knows that hate is a poison that kills the vessel that carries it. To “let hate wrap you up” is to be bound by one’s own anger, to be enslaved by the very force one seeks to use against others. Hamer, who endured violence, humiliation, and injustice as a Black woman and civil rights activist in the American South, had every reason to hate. But she chose instead to live by the higher law of love — not because it was easy, but because it was divine. To her, love was not weakness; it was strength born of suffering, the strength to look into the eyes of one’s oppressor and refuse to become like them.

The origin of these words can be found in Hamer’s life and her calling. Born in 1917 to a family of sharecroppers in Mississippi, she knew hardship from the cradle. When she joined the Civil Rights Movement, she faced brutal beatings, imprisonment, and threats meant to silence her. Yet, even as her body bore the marks of hatred, her heart clung to the teachings of her faith. She believed that true freedom could never be achieved through vengeance, but through righteous endurance and forgiveness. Her conviction was rooted in the Christian belief that one cannot claim to love God while harboring hatred for His creation. Thus, when she said, “Ain’t no such thing as I can hate anybody and hope to see God’s face,” she spoke from the unshakable moral center that guided her life — the belief that love is not only the path to justice, but the essence of salvation.

Her words echo through history, reflecting the same truth that guided other great souls before her. Consider Nelson Mandela, who after twenty-seven years of imprisonment under apartheid, emerged not with vengeance but with forgiveness. “Resentment,” he said, “is like drinking poison and hoping it will kill your enemies.” Mandela, like Hamer, understood that hate is a chain that binds both victim and oppressor alike. In releasing it, one breaks not only one’s own chains but also the moral cycle of violence that imprisons the world. Their lives remind us that to love in the face of hatred is the highest act of resistance — a rebellion of the spirit against the forces that seek to divide and destroy.

There is also a spiritual rhythm to Hamer’s wisdom. Her words are not merely moral; they are theological. To “see God’s face” — to dwell in the presence of divine truth — one must be free of hatred, for hatred clouds the soul and blinds the heart. Love, she understood, is not an emotion but a state of clarity, a mirror through which the divine is seen. Hate, by contrast, is darkness that obscures vision. Thus, Hamer’s compassion for those who hate is the compassion of one who sees their blindness — who grieves not for their cruelty, but for their loss of light. Her sorrow is not born of weakness, but of wisdom; she knows that one who hates has already stepped away from God’s grace.

Her teaching, though ancient in its roots, remains urgent for our age. In a world still divided by race, religion, and ideology, many have allowed hate to wrap them like chains of fire. They mistake rage for strength, and vengeance for justice. But Hamer’s words call us back to truth: that hate cannot heal the wounds it creates; it can only deepen them. To build a just world, we must first free ourselves from hatred, not through denial, but through transformation — by choosing empathy over anger, compassion over contempt, and faith over fear. For as she knew well, only love can build what hate has destroyed.

Let this, then, be the lesson passed down: do not let hate make a home in your heart. You may resist injustice fiercely, you may cry out against wrong, but do not allow the fire of anger to consume your soul. Speak truth boldly, but let mercy temper your voice. Forgive, not to excuse evil, but to free yourself from it. For those who carry hate cannot walk into the light, and those who walk in love cannot be defeated by darkness. Hamer’s wisdom teaches that the purest form of victory is spiritual peace — the ability to fight for justice without losing one’s humanity.

And so, my listener, remember the eternal wisdom of Fannie Lou Hamer: “Ain’t no such thing as I can hate anybody and hope to see God’s face.” In those words lies the path to inner freedom and divine vision. Let no bitterness rule your spirit. Choose love — fierce, courageous, uncompromising love — even when the world gives you every reason to hate. For only then will you see, not just God’s face, but your own reflected within it — whole, radiant, and free.