A friend texted me the following quote this week:
“I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” – Elie Wiesel
What follows is a post I’ve been mulling over for a few weeks. It’s still not fully thought through and it’s not profound in anyway. But it is an attempt at not being silent anymore, regardless of how unprepared I am to speak.
The first time I visited the National Civil Rights Museum was in March 2010. I clearly remember a moment where I found myself standing in a replica of a jail cell listening to the reading of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s Letter from Birmingham Jail. I stood in that jail cell and tears streamed down my face as I listened to this letter.
In this letter, Dr. King is responding to white area clergy who had written a statement calling his actions and the civil rights movement “unwise and untimely.” His response is humble but firm – that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Back then I had just decided on moving to Chicago to pursue my masters. I was beginning the path toward where I am now – an ordained pastor serving in a church setting. Standing there and listening to his words ignited something in me – a passion to fight for justice, especially within the racial tensions in America.
As I was exiting seminary, someone asked me what I thought my role in racial righteousness ministry. Throughout seminary I had been challenged to see myself and the world around me differently. I had come face to face with ugly truths in my own life and in the world, especially when it came to racial righteousness. So this question to me gave me pause.
I’ve been trying to answer that question for the last six years. To see where I fit in on this long road towards justice for all. What’s my leg of the race? Where do I fit into it?
Along this journey of discovery for myself, I have found beauty in the discussions. I’ve entered in with my brothers and sisters in Christ as I’ve tried to understand the various perspectives in justice ministry. I’ve sat uncomfortably in the anger. I’ve cried the tears of brokenness and pain. I’ve rejoiced alongside my brothers and sisters who find triumph in their ministries in building bridges.
Last month I found myself in that same jail cell replica. I was en route to Jackson, MS with an intergenerational group from our church. We were going to serve alongside another Covenant church and on the way we were stopping to enter into this conversation about race in America.
I took the picture above on this second trip. I wanted to remember the first time I stood in that cell and at the same time I wanted to rejoice in how far I’ve come in my own understanding. But I also took this picture for another reason – to remind me that I’m still on the outside.
I’ve done some hard work in my life to understand racism in America. I have had to do some digging in my own life as a biracial woman. I’ve dealt with racism and sexism directed towards me. I understand being marginalized in some aspects. But I am still on the outside of this jail cell.
I still have white privilege. I will never fully understand what it feels like to be afraid of law enforcement, to do everything right and still be disrespected, beaten or killed.
Dr. King was constantly challenging white clergy to enter into the conversation. To mourn alongside those who mourn and to be heartbroken by the belittling and loss of life. To not stand idly by while our brothers and sisters are being devalued, killed and held back from the type of life they deserve.
When tragedy strikes us the way it has this week in Dallas, Baton Rouge and Minnesota or in recent weeks in Orlando and overseas – we must join together and lament. To fight darkness with light.
Yes – Hate is alive in our country. Fear is alive in our country. But so is Christ. Christ is alive and he is mourning the loss of life. He is weeping over the bodies of Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and the five officers in Dallas.
I’m still working through what this looks like in my own life – how I am called to act. But I refuse to look away, to be silent when the darkness is so loud.
May we join together and engage in this conversation on how to redeem and mend the brokenness all around us.
I’ll start with the most recent. This past Sunday was our Confirmation Sunday. We confirmed 11 students and baptized one of them as well. Part of the service was them each sharing their faith. A few months ago I had given them a paper outlining some questions they could answer and I encouraged them to get creative. My hope with this many confirmands was that they would each show our congregation a bit of who they are as individuals. That God’s creativity in creation would shine through them. And it sure did. They each prepared their testimonies in their own way: we had videos, songs, slide shows of photography, drawings, some comedic relief. They did an amazing job and I wish I could relive that service, that day of celebration again and really take it all in. I’m so proud of each of them!
This one day could actually be a number of days – any days that I get to spend with my nieces are days to relive. But this one was particularly fun. I had just flown in that morning, these two greeted me at the airport with a hand made sign. Once we got lunch and back home, I took them to the park – well two parks because they couldn’t decide between the two. Then we went for ice cream. I can count on one hand the amount of days I’ve spent with them when they haven’t fought but that day they were like best of friends. It was a day filled with laughter, sunshine and plenty of “look at me Tia!” Not pictured is going to pick up the baby who came running into my arms the moment she saw me.
Once upon a time two seminarians decided kind of last minute to
This day. This was what I would consider the beginning of our real friendship. I remember it so clearly, I had been having a rough couple days and the Kindergarten Teacher (who has since become the One that Moved to Seattle) called me after church and asked if I wanted to go get lunch. Then we went to Target and wandered the aisles. It was the first of many many lunches with her and her husband on Sunday afternoons. Afternoons spent wandering through stores, going to movies, living life together. Very few friendships have that starting moment – and this was ours. Our first selfie and the beginning of a friendship that I miss dearly now that she lives on the West coast.
Today was one of those days when the schedule you start off with in the morning doesn’t end up being the one you stick to. Each morning I tend to think through my day and plan it out a bit. But today, my plan went out the window. By the time I got home after youth group tonight, I hadn’t done my reading yet. So I climbed into my bed with my bible and journal and I opened it up to Genesis.