I just finished my last doctoral class (not counting the post-class paper). I usually take one class per year, but this year I felt compelled to finish the coursework in one summer. Since the seminary was experimenting with 5 day intensive courses, I decided to take two classes and put this part of the DMin behind me. The first class went very well, and as Multicultural Counseling is a good skill for any pastor to have, I signed up for that second course and started reading the very thick text book. At the appointed time, I drove south and west, and spent the Fourth of July week in class.
Our class was composed of six students and one professor. Of the seven of us, all were clergy of various flavors: two were Roman Catholic Priests, one was a Reconstructionist Rabbi, one was a Mennonite Pastor, one was Presbyterian, and one was Christian Reformed - Korean. I am UCC. Among us we had three women and four men, and people from Ghana, Nigeria, Florida, North Carolina, Indiana, Idaho and California. Of those living in America, three were first generation immigrants (from Argentina, Korea, and England). Those from Africa were here on student visas. We were mixed in terms of religions, countries of origin, race, ethnicity, culture, sexual orientation, marital status, economic status, political persuasion, and although everyone but the Rabbi was Christian, it was a highly diverse group of Christians (from far-right evangelical/conservative to far-left progressive).
For five days we sat around the table and talked about very hard topics, practicing active listening, problem-solving, and a variety of different counseling and group process strategies. It was intense. And it was not always easy. Passions would flare, and the group would hold the energy until it could dissipate or redirect. We stayed around the table while people of color were dying at the hands of the police, and police were dying at the hands of - what shall we call him? A person of color? A veteran? A person with mental health challenges? Someone in need of help? We stayed around the table and brought our widely diverse perspectives to questions that seem almost too big to answer, and feelings that were hard to contain.
Seminary is a safe place to be during times of fear and uncertainty. People spring into action and create spaces to pray, or talk, or grieve, or express anger and fear - loving arms go around the seminary community so we can step into the larger community and minister to those who are also afraid and angry. Some went to Oakland. Some to local vigils. Many will go to a large gathering in San Francisco tomorrow afternoon. Seminary, like a local church, becomes the place people are equipped, supported, and "launched" into service.
What do we do in the face of this continuing violence that fractures along racial lines? What do we do when communities of color are afraid of the police who are called to serve and protect them, and the police are afraid of violence from the communities they are sworn to serve and protect?
We gather.
We gather to comfort and support. We gather to witness to the need for constructive, transformative conversation followed by action. We listen and hear one another. We talk honestly and deeply about the role systemic racism plays in our current reality, taking a long and hard look at how we are complicit (often unwittingly) with a racist system. We have tough conversations about gun violence in America, and discuss creative and effective ways to curb gun violence. We look at all aspects of our judicial system, from the police to the prisons and everything in between. We refuse to engage in the politics of blame and shame that are such a part of this election cycle, and we hold our elected officials responsible for setting a tone of positive, cooperative leadership.
We meet one another, talk honestly and respectfully, solve difficult problems together and implement change.
The most important part of gathering around the table to talk is that the conversation is useless if those gathered around the table are just like "me." Each of us can have conversations like that sitting in front of a mirror! Instead, we need to gather and converse with people who are different from us - people who hold positions that are outside of our experience, and possibly hard for us to hear. We must get out of our bubble of comfort and familiarity and listen. The conversation isn't going to be easy, and sometimes it will not uncomfortable. But if it is honest, respectful and true, it will move the needle. And the damn needle needs to move!
During my drive today I stopped in an obscure town in Nevada for gas and a break. The young woman behind he counter welcomed some conversation. I asked her about living in a town that, well, was a brief stopping place for people who needed gasoline, a bathroom break, or an impressive assortment of jerky. She shared, with a big smile on her face, that she loved living in a city (Winnemucca), but loved living here more. "There is a creek behind the house, and I can go out back with my gun and shoot as much as I want. I love being outdoors, and relaxing with my gun." Well, we had some common ground on the outdoors part, but the gun is another story. She was listening to a conservative radio talk show, and had a WWJD tattoo - a question that I think we might answer differently. If we were to generate a quick list of things we have in common, it would be a very short list. Except for the most important thing - we are both beloved of God, and created in God's very image. And she is someone I need to get to know - because she sees a completely different world than I do.
I know what the world I see looks like. I need to see the world through the eyes of those who see a very different world. And have a very different experience.
This week has been shocking, and shame on any political leader who uses these tragedies to stoke fear and division! Equally, shame on anyone who enters the situation with a big broom and desire to sweep these even bigger questions under the rug. If you are white, you benefit directly from systemic racism - end of story. You have privilege. It is time to use that privilege in service of justice and transformation.
It's time to gather and have real, life-changing conversations - a process faith communities are uniquely positioned to facilitate. This must happen before this level of violence becomes our new normal, and we habituated to it, or become resigned. Once resignation, despair or apathy settle in, it is harder to move the needle. And the damn needle needs to move!
With love and prayers for transformative justice,
Kim
