Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
I am tired. I am tired of the same debates, the same arguments, the same retreating into our respective camps that seems to follow every mass shooting that happens.
No one seems to listen to people like me — and I know I’m not alone.
I was raised in an NRA household and remain a supporter of responsible gun use and ownership, as is almost every NRA member I know. I have several guns of my own, locked in a safe, and used for sport and for hunting. I was raised in a house where my stepfather was a licensed gun dealer and so we had a room with numerous firearms. I was taught responsible gun use from a young age. I remember taking my first hunter’s safety course at the North Ottawa Rod and Gun Club.
At the same time, there seems to be a persistent refusal on the part of a good portion of our country to move forward with clear and sensible solutions to issues surrounding gun violence. All I hear is deflection after deflection after deflection. The biggest deflection from dealing with gun violence is the retreat to the Second Amendment.
“I support the Second Amendment!” I have news for you — so do I. In fact, the vast majority of the people arguing for better gun laws are also Second Amendment supporters.
Here is the key: I don’t think anyone believes in an unlimited right to bear arms. That is, no one thinks everyone should be able to own a nuclear weapon. There is a good amount of military weaponry that is not legal to own as a normal citizen. The question is not whether or not the right to bear arms should be an unlimited right; the question is where the reasonable places to draw those limits are.
There are two questions to be considered when it comes to limitations. The first is this very question of what weapons should be accessible to a citizen of the United States. The 1939 Supreme Court decision United States v. Miller ruled that the right to bear arms included arms that are “part of the ordinary military equipment” or the use of which could “contribute to the common defense.” One of the key stipulations argued by the attorneys for the U.S. was that the Second Amendment protects only the ownership of military-type weapons appropriate for use in an organized militia.
Based upon that argument, it was ruled that a short-barrel shotgun was not permitted under the Second Amendment. At the basis of the court’s decision was the belief that even though short-barreled shotguns, machine guns and silencers may have uses in military service, they are not appropriate for militia service and, thus, may be regulated.
Furthermore, that was 1939, and the technology behind guns has advanced significantly. In some ways, the courts have acknowledged this. As Brian L. Frye notes in a University of Kentucky Law School article, “Most recently, in Parker v. District of Columbia, the D.C. Circuit concluded Miller assumed the Second Amendment protects an individual right to possess and use weapons ‘of the kind in common use at the time,’ including handguns.”
So, with this judicial history, we can surely assert that automatic and semi-automatic should, at the very least, be highly regulated. High-capacity magazines which exist only for the purpose of inflicting immense casualties should, at the very least, be highly regulated. These are weapons with a technology not envisioned by the framers of the Constitution, and not even by the Supreme Court when it decided upon Miller (which also upheld the government’s ability to regulate machine guns, by the way).
This brings us to the second question of limitations — limitations on the purchaser. A Feb. 20 poll by Quinnipiac University has found that universal background checks are supported by an astounding 97 percent of Americans. Furthermore, 83 percent of Americans believe in a mandatory waiting period for gun purchases. Every single person who wishes to purchase a firearm should be subject to a background check and a mandatory waiting period — including sales between private parties.
And that background check should include a clear restriction on gun ownership for anyone convicted of domestic violence or under any sort of restraining order related to domestic violence. Women in the United States are 16 times more likely to be shot and killed than are women in other developed nations. If there is a gun involved in a domestic violence situation, the likelihood of the woman being killed increases five times. In an average month, 50 women are shot to death by an intimate partner. Though our current database has blocked more than 300,000 sales to domestic abusers, those abusers are able to avoid the background check by purchasing through a private party or at a gun show. States that require background checks on all handgun sales see 47 percent fewer women shot to death by an intimate partner.
This is not only a question of background checks. Laws must be created — and enforced — that force those who can be shown to pose a danger to relinquish their firearms until the court can be shown otherwise. Some laws like this are in the works, but only 15 states require abusers subject to final domestic violence restraining orders to turn in their guns.
We must do better as a society. I know that we will never stop all mass killings. I know that gun control will not solve the problem of anger, violence and division that infects our society. But sensible gun regulation will decrease the number of mass killings. It will save the lives of women and children. And it will not be an onerous burden upon the average law-abiding citizen.
It’s time for every American — particular members of the National Rifle Association — to stop buying what the NRA and the gun lobby is selling. Let’s wake up and make our society safer. It can be done, and the vast majority of us already agree on the next steps. We must simply refuse to be silenced until those steps are taken.
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Polish ~ In Memory of William Kenneth Stewart.
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| Ken Stewart with my sisters, Amy on the left and Alicia on the right. |
And if you are ever in Corunna, Michigan, take a look at the building on the corner across the street from the courthouse. He finally did sell it, and the awning now bears the name "The Ken & Dorothy Stewart Building."
I come from a shoe family.
My mother's father's business for years and years was a shoe store. Actually, I know it as the shoe store. I believe all of his kids worked in it at one time or another. When I was a small child, my parents were probably about as well off as most parents that have kids in their early twenties (which is to say, we weren't wealthy). But I never lacked for shoes. I always had a good pair of shoes, even from the time I was just a toddler.
My dad worked in that store, I believe it was where he discovered his knack for selling things. Around the time I was 4 or 5, he traveled across the state to West Michigan to work at a big shoe store in Grand Rapids. We came with him and my family lived in West Michigan for the rest of growing up years, right up until I moved back to south eastern Michigan to go to college in Rochester Hills. My dad moved on from shoes to cars, and my family gradually spread away from west Michigan. Except for my younger sister, who steadfastly remains in Grand Rapids. That's just the way she is, and it's one of the things I love and admire about her.
But my grandfather, the one who owned the shoe business, never moved. It's almost as if the earth spun so fast that the rest of us slid to other places, but he remained right in Corunna, a small town outside of Flint. He closed the shoe store. I have the picture of the last day it was open somewhere. Everyone standing together in one big group as a chapter in the Stewart family life ended. Grandpa turned the place into a consignment shop for years. When I was a teenager, he'd let me sit behind the register and ring people up, paying a foolish child a couple dollars to do something I thought was great fun. I was paid almost literally by the hour and every few dollars I made I'd run down the street to the Freeway pharmacy/convenience store and buy myself something. Candy. A toy gun. That money burned a hole in my pocket and wasn't lasting long.
He closed the consignment store too, and has tried several times to sell the whole building and be done with it.
He's 84 now, and he shouldn't have to mess with things like that. But it's seems like a penny that's hard to lose. I don't know what's going on with the building now, but I know Grandpa is right where he's always been: next to Grandma Dorothy (he calls her "Dot"). They're at their house just a few miles from the old store. Same house. Same house that seemed so gigantic when I was a child and still looms large in my mind and in my heart.
After my first year of seminary in west Texas, when my theological world began shifting and before I had gotten used to living a whole country away from my family, I went to see my grandparents. I'd been in Michigan for that preaching conference Rochester used to host and spent my last evening and day up at their house in Corunna. You remember the story, I wrote about it earlier. I wrote about riding on the back of my grandfather's motorcycle across the roads of Shiawassee County.
But there's a part of that visit with Grandpa Ken and Grandma Dorothy I didn't include in that post. I had mentioned to Grandpa about how after a year in Texas I was itching to buy some cowboy boots. He said he had a pair he didn't wear anymore, and that I could have them if they fit and if I wanted them.
Always a shoe man, he knew the first question was whether or not they fit. Not whether or not you wanted them. I tried them on and they fit perfectly. He took a look at them and said they'd need a good polish. I gave them back and we went into his office, next door to his bedroom in the house. He pulled out his old shoe polish kit. I sat on the floor and he sat on the edge of the coffee table in the office and took one of the boots. He cleaned the dirt and dust off of it first. Then, opening the can of Kiwi, he used a small round brush and started working the polish into the leather.
I'd polished a pair of shoes before. Both my mom and my dad made sure I knew how to do that. But a boot is a bigger thing to polish. I watched my Grandpa work the polish into both boots, then use the longer brush to begin to buff them, finishing the shine with a cloth. He was careful, but not slow. You could see that his arms had done this work several times over the years. While he polished he explained to me why he preferred boots like these: Red Wings. He talked about how they last so long and were of such good quality. In fact, he said, he'd bought these particular boots in 1981, the year I was born. When he was done he set them down next to each other and they shined like brand new.
These boots were a quarter of a century old and they shined like brand new.
I still wear my grandpa's boots. I wore them all throughout my time in Texas and kept wearing them when I moved to Tennessee. I don't know what Bethany thought about the Michigan boy wearing boots in middle Tennessee when I met her, but she married me anyway. I wore those boots for our engagement pictures and brought them with me when we moved to the Washington, DC area. They are still my favorite footwear. After almost 30 years they're perfectly broken in. When I put them on they feel like home.
I polished those boots this morning and thought about my Grandpa. I closed my eyes and pictured him working that polish along the boot as he explained the ways of boots and shoe polish to me. Over the years of my life, the brush of his life has slowly worked polish into my own. Life has scuffed me sometimes, but he showed me where to find God's polish: in my family and in a heart that desires God above all else. And so I still work that brown polish into my boots. I still work the polish of grace into my life. And neither my boots nor my soul have worn out yet.
Almighty God, with whom still live the spirits of those who die in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful are in joy and felicity: We give you heartfelt thanks for the good examples of all your servants, who, having finished their course in faith, now find rest and refreshment. May we, with all who have died in the true faith of your holy Name, have perfect fulfillment and bliss in your eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
The sin behind the current supposed tax reform
Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
This past weekend, at 2 a.m., the U.S. Senate passed a nearly 500-page bill to reform our nation’s tax system.
The process to pass this bill was one of the most rushed in decades, with no substantive hearings. The version that was voted on in the early morning hours had handwritten notes that are almost entirely illegible.
The Joint Committee on Taxation and the Congressional Budget Office note that by 2027 those making $40,000 to $50,000 a year will pay a combined $5.3 billion more in taxes. At the same time, those earning more than $1 million will wind up with a $5.8 billion tax cut. By that time, most households which earn less than $75,000 a year will wind up with a tax increase.
Several independent analyses have found that the bill will add more than $1 trillion to the deficit — even after accounting for increased economic growth. According to a Reuters/Ipsos poll, nearly half of all Americans who are aware of the bill are opposed to it, up from 41 percent in October. Only 29 percent of those surveyed said they actually support the legislation.
I truly do believe that this bill will come back to haunt Republicans who are up for re-election in 2018. Don’t get me wrong, the fundamental concept that is supposedly behind the law (a lowering of the corporate tax rate to 20 percent) is a concept I actually support. The problem is that this bill accomplishes a lowered corporate tax rate on the backs of the poor and middle class while also providing significant tax cuts to the wealthy. I believe the more people feel the implications of this bill in their own lives, the even more unpopular it will become.
So, I am opposed to this bill as a fiscal conservative. I’m opposed to this bill from an economic standpoint because, though it may help some parts of the economy, many economists agree that there are much more effective ways $1.5 trillion could be used to encourage economic growth.
But, as a Christian priest, I want to talk about the moral implications of this tax bill.
In the eighth century, the prophet Amos wrote to a people who believed they were doing fine. The tensions between the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel and Judah had lessened. Trade relations were favorable with the Phoenician merchants bringing luxurious goods to the land and many in Israel became very wealthy. Even religion seemed to be going well, with people participating actively in worship.
But the shepherd and farmer Amos knew that the supposed peace and prosperity were a thin veneer over a profound societal evil. The wealthy moved the economy in ways that would increase the overall wealth of the country, but this came on the backs of the poor. So, for example, they worked to grow more lucrative wine and olive oil, leading to less diversification in agriculture. This made it harder for peasant farmers to feed themselves and their flocks.
In times past, when people entered economic calamity, those in their community would assist them with interest-free survival loans. Now, however, the wealthy were issuing those loans with increasing rates of interest that made it impossible for the poor to get out of debt and reclaim their lives. The lands of the poor would be used as collateral — and then, when the poor couldn’t pay, the wealthy would take the lands, leading to the concentration of wealth and lands in a very few hands.
The free market was at work, and it decimated the poor and brought even more wealth to the rich.
So Amos writes to the wealthy and religious, “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings, I will not accept them. … But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” He calls out their sinful treatment of the poor, arguing that they are “buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals.”
With this current legislation, the poorest of the poor — those who make less than $10,000 a year — will see assistance from the government decrease by $530, while those whose households with multimillion dollar incomes will get $21,700 back through decreased taxation. As the individual mandate is gutted — with no concrete reform to our health care industry — premiums will go up by an estimated 10 percent, and now there will be less health care subsidies for those who need them. The money saved by eliminating health care subsidies for those earning less than $40,000 is about $94.4 billion. That number is unsettling close to the $91.7 billion in tax cuts to those making more than $1 million a year.
The wealthy, who have consistently seen income growth over the past several decades, are getting a windfall while the poor and struggling middle class are receiving less assistance from the government and, in many cases, actually paying more in taxes. All of this is happening while the deficit is also increased by more than $1 trillion.
This bill is a sinful attack upon the poor. It is built upon the greed of a culture that wants to believe “my money” is for me. It entirely lacks a sense of cooperation for the good of society. If the Republican leadership truly believes that a lowered corporate tax cut will grow the economy, let them pay for it through returning income tax rates for the wealthy to previous levels. Not only can the wealthy afford to pay increased rates, if the economy does grow they will be the ones seeing the impact most quickly and clearly.
The bill is not yet final because the House and Senate versions must be reconciled. And so it is all the more essential that people of faith — people who know how often in Scripture God condemns societies that help the wealthy at the expense of the poor — to speak up and urge its defeat.
Republicans will feel the effects of this legislation in the 2018 election. But we, as a society, will bear the moral burden for this legislation unless we do something to stop it.
This past weekend, at 2 a.m., the U.S. Senate passed a nearly 500-page bill to reform our nation’s tax system.
The process to pass this bill was one of the most rushed in decades, with no substantive hearings. The version that was voted on in the early morning hours had handwritten notes that are almost entirely illegible.
The Joint Committee on Taxation and the Congressional Budget Office note that by 2027 those making $40,000 to $50,000 a year will pay a combined $5.3 billion more in taxes. At the same time, those earning more than $1 million will wind up with a $5.8 billion tax cut. By that time, most households which earn less than $75,000 a year will wind up with a tax increase.
Several independent analyses have found that the bill will add more than $1 trillion to the deficit — even after accounting for increased economic growth. According to a Reuters/Ipsos poll, nearly half of all Americans who are aware of the bill are opposed to it, up from 41 percent in October. Only 29 percent of those surveyed said they actually support the legislation.
I truly do believe that this bill will come back to haunt Republicans who are up for re-election in 2018. Don’t get me wrong, the fundamental concept that is supposedly behind the law (a lowering of the corporate tax rate to 20 percent) is a concept I actually support. The problem is that this bill accomplishes a lowered corporate tax rate on the backs of the poor and middle class while also providing significant tax cuts to the wealthy. I believe the more people feel the implications of this bill in their own lives, the even more unpopular it will become.
So, I am opposed to this bill as a fiscal conservative. I’m opposed to this bill from an economic standpoint because, though it may help some parts of the economy, many economists agree that there are much more effective ways $1.5 trillion could be used to encourage economic growth.
But, as a Christian priest, I want to talk about the moral implications of this tax bill.
In the eighth century, the prophet Amos wrote to a people who believed they were doing fine. The tensions between the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel and Judah had lessened. Trade relations were favorable with the Phoenician merchants bringing luxurious goods to the land and many in Israel became very wealthy. Even religion seemed to be going well, with people participating actively in worship.
But the shepherd and farmer Amos knew that the supposed peace and prosperity were a thin veneer over a profound societal evil. The wealthy moved the economy in ways that would increase the overall wealth of the country, but this came on the backs of the poor. So, for example, they worked to grow more lucrative wine and olive oil, leading to less diversification in agriculture. This made it harder for peasant farmers to feed themselves and their flocks.
In times past, when people entered economic calamity, those in their community would assist them with interest-free survival loans. Now, however, the wealthy were issuing those loans with increasing rates of interest that made it impossible for the poor to get out of debt and reclaim their lives. The lands of the poor would be used as collateral — and then, when the poor couldn’t pay, the wealthy would take the lands, leading to the concentration of wealth and lands in a very few hands.
The free market was at work, and it decimated the poor and brought even more wealth to the rich.
So Amos writes to the wealthy and religious, “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings, I will not accept them. … But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” He calls out their sinful treatment of the poor, arguing that they are “buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals.”
With this current legislation, the poorest of the poor — those who make less than $10,000 a year — will see assistance from the government decrease by $530, while those whose households with multimillion dollar incomes will get $21,700 back through decreased taxation. As the individual mandate is gutted — with no concrete reform to our health care industry — premiums will go up by an estimated 10 percent, and now there will be less health care subsidies for those who need them. The money saved by eliminating health care subsidies for those earning less than $40,000 is about $94.4 billion. That number is unsettling close to the $91.7 billion in tax cuts to those making more than $1 million a year.
The wealthy, who have consistently seen income growth over the past several decades, are getting a windfall while the poor and struggling middle class are receiving less assistance from the government and, in many cases, actually paying more in taxes. All of this is happening while the deficit is also increased by more than $1 trillion.
This bill is a sinful attack upon the poor. It is built upon the greed of a culture that wants to believe “my money” is for me. It entirely lacks a sense of cooperation for the good of society. If the Republican leadership truly believes that a lowered corporate tax cut will grow the economy, let them pay for it through returning income tax rates for the wealthy to previous levels. Not only can the wealthy afford to pay increased rates, if the economy does grow they will be the ones seeing the impact most quickly and clearly.
The bill is not yet final because the House and Senate versions must be reconciled. And so it is all the more essential that people of faith — people who know how often in Scripture God condemns societies that help the wealthy at the expense of the poor — to speak up and urge its defeat.
Republicans will feel the effects of this legislation in the 2018 election. But we, as a society, will bear the moral burden for this legislation unless we do something to stop it.
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Remembering death, sanctity, and the Fall Holy Days
Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
I was in college when the television show “Six Feet Under” came out on HBO. I don’t remember who first turned me on to it, but I remember watching it on DVD through Netflix. And I remember that I was hooked on the very first episode.
The show itself tells the story of a family who owns a funeral home, interspersing the drama of the characters’ lives with that of people who die at the beginning of each episode.
For me, the show became a powerful meditation on life and death. I often say that the show did more to help me come to terms with the nature of death and dying than any class I took in college or in seminary.
I think one of the reasons the show was so powerful for me — and proved to be such a critical success — was that it acknowledged the way our society has anesthetized death and dying. In times not that long ago, when someone died, it was the family who would wash the body. The person would lie in state in the home as friends and relatives came to visit. The funeral liturgy was an acknowledgment of the grief caused by the separation of death and the reception afterward (often a wake) was the place where people would then gather to tell stories about the person who had died. After the funeral, people would continue to visit the grave because they usually lived most of their lives within traveling distance of where their loved ones were buried.
So much of that has changed now. Much of the current industry surrounding death and dying seems at times to be an attempt to feign continued life. Cosmetic work in the funeral industry seeks to give the appearance that the departed is only sleeping. We have taken the whole length of various rituals surrounding grief and compressed them into one event: the Memorial Service at the Funeral Home, where professionals care for the body, enable a visitation at the funeral home if the family desires, and then hold a memorial service right there. Many contemporary burial customs involve not actually burying the body at the cemetery, but leaving the casket above ground, hiding the dirt underneath a green carpet so that we don’t have to think about what happens next.
Now, I want to be clear, our own local funeral homes are excellent institutions, run primarily by local people who strive to provide support in a time of grief and pain. In many ways, though, they have to operate in and among a society that increasingly wishes to deny the realities of death. Their work to help people through the death of a loved one is admirable.
All of these realities are why I find this time in the traditional church year to be a deeply meaningful time in my own life. In the same way that Maundy (or Holy) Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter on Holy Saturday are known as the Great Triduum (or Great Three Days), so this time in the fall is often seen as its own Triduum.
Last night, commonly known as Halloween, derives its name from All Hallows’ Eve; or, in modern English, All Saints’ Eve. That is, Oct. 31 is the eve of the Feast of All Saints Day on Nov. 1. It is a time that was traditionally spent in prayer and preparation for the great feast.
All Saints’ Day on Nov. 1 is the day in which the great Communion of Saints is celebrated. This is not, as some think, all those who have died. Rather, this feast developed as a way to acknowledge that there are a great many more saints — people whose lives manifest the full transformative power of God’s grace — than there will ever be recognized on any calendar of saints.
Thursday is All Souls’ Day, is the day in which the church remembers all those who have died. It is traditional on All Souls’ Day to have a Requiem Eucharist — that is, a service of Holy Communion in which we pray for all those who have died, continuing to commend them to the care and love of God. For many people, attending the Requiem Eucharist on All Souls’ Day is a tremendous opportunity for healing, particularly when the death was recent.
At my own parish, our experience of this fall Triduum has been deepened by our Latino members. Now, on the Sunday before this day, our Latino and Anglo members gather together in our side chapel to make a Día de los Muertos altar — an altar to celebrate the Day of the Dead (the above-mentioned All Souls’ Day on Nov. 2). We decorate the altar and place upon it pictures of our loved ones. It is a common custom to leave small gifts on the altar — pieces of their favorite food or drink — as a gesture of love and care.
All of the older traditions of the church around these days — traditions that have developed differently in many different cultures — are ways in which we honestly acknowledge the painful reality of death, the loss and grief that is natural when someone we love leaves this mortal plain. And yet, these traditions proclaim the Christian hope that life is only changed in death — it is not ended.
So, we celebrate All the Saints of the church, knowing that their examples continue to inspire us, rejoicing that they now exist in the presence of the God they served. We remember all those who have died on All Souls, the Day of the Dead. We pray for them now just as we prayed for them when they are alive — because we know they have not ceased to exist, rather their life and journey has simply changed.
We are invited by the church to observe these days as a bold proclamation of our Christian hope and as an expression of our longing for the day when all of creation, all those who have died and who have lived, are finally bound together in the love of God.
I was in college when the television show “Six Feet Under” came out on HBO. I don’t remember who first turned me on to it, but I remember watching it on DVD through Netflix. And I remember that I was hooked on the very first episode.
The show itself tells the story of a family who owns a funeral home, interspersing the drama of the characters’ lives with that of people who die at the beginning of each episode.
For me, the show became a powerful meditation on life and death. I often say that the show did more to help me come to terms with the nature of death and dying than any class I took in college or in seminary.
I think one of the reasons the show was so powerful for me — and proved to be such a critical success — was that it acknowledged the way our society has anesthetized death and dying. In times not that long ago, when someone died, it was the family who would wash the body. The person would lie in state in the home as friends and relatives came to visit. The funeral liturgy was an acknowledgment of the grief caused by the separation of death and the reception afterward (often a wake) was the place where people would then gather to tell stories about the person who had died. After the funeral, people would continue to visit the grave because they usually lived most of their lives within traveling distance of where their loved ones were buried.
So much of that has changed now. Much of the current industry surrounding death and dying seems at times to be an attempt to feign continued life. Cosmetic work in the funeral industry seeks to give the appearance that the departed is only sleeping. We have taken the whole length of various rituals surrounding grief and compressed them into one event: the Memorial Service at the Funeral Home, where professionals care for the body, enable a visitation at the funeral home if the family desires, and then hold a memorial service right there. Many contemporary burial customs involve not actually burying the body at the cemetery, but leaving the casket above ground, hiding the dirt underneath a green carpet so that we don’t have to think about what happens next.
Now, I want to be clear, our own local funeral homes are excellent institutions, run primarily by local people who strive to provide support in a time of grief and pain. In many ways, though, they have to operate in and among a society that increasingly wishes to deny the realities of death. Their work to help people through the death of a loved one is admirable.
All of these realities are why I find this time in the traditional church year to be a deeply meaningful time in my own life. In the same way that Maundy (or Holy) Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter on Holy Saturday are known as the Great Triduum (or Great Three Days), so this time in the fall is often seen as its own Triduum.
Last night, commonly known as Halloween, derives its name from All Hallows’ Eve; or, in modern English, All Saints’ Eve. That is, Oct. 31 is the eve of the Feast of All Saints Day on Nov. 1. It is a time that was traditionally spent in prayer and preparation for the great feast.
All Saints’ Day on Nov. 1 is the day in which the great Communion of Saints is celebrated. This is not, as some think, all those who have died. Rather, this feast developed as a way to acknowledge that there are a great many more saints — people whose lives manifest the full transformative power of God’s grace — than there will ever be recognized on any calendar of saints.
Thursday is All Souls’ Day, is the day in which the church remembers all those who have died. It is traditional on All Souls’ Day to have a Requiem Eucharist — that is, a service of Holy Communion in which we pray for all those who have died, continuing to commend them to the care and love of God. For many people, attending the Requiem Eucharist on All Souls’ Day is a tremendous opportunity for healing, particularly when the death was recent.
At my own parish, our experience of this fall Triduum has been deepened by our Latino members. Now, on the Sunday before this day, our Latino and Anglo members gather together in our side chapel to make a Día de los Muertos altar — an altar to celebrate the Day of the Dead (the above-mentioned All Souls’ Day on Nov. 2). We decorate the altar and place upon it pictures of our loved ones. It is a common custom to leave small gifts on the altar — pieces of their favorite food or drink — as a gesture of love and care.
All of the older traditions of the church around these days — traditions that have developed differently in many different cultures — are ways in which we honestly acknowledge the painful reality of death, the loss and grief that is natural when someone we love leaves this mortal plain. And yet, these traditions proclaim the Christian hope that life is only changed in death — it is not ended.
So, we celebrate All the Saints of the church, knowing that their examples continue to inspire us, rejoicing that they now exist in the presence of the God they served. We remember all those who have died on All Souls, the Day of the Dead. We pray for them now just as we prayed for them when they are alive — because we know they have not ceased to exist, rather their life and journey has simply changed.
We are invited by the church to observe these days as a bold proclamation of our Christian hope and as an expression of our longing for the day when all of creation, all those who have died and who have lived, are finally bound together in the love of God.
Friday, October 20, 2017
Patriarchy, privilege and the #MeToo movement
Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
Over the past few days, I have been seeing two very small words in my social media feed that carry tremendous weight: “Me too.”
The movement to post these words seems to have started Sunday, when actress Alyssa Milano tweeted: “Suggested by a friend: If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too’ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.” It began as a response to the news reports of Harvey Weinstein, the Hollywood producer who lost his job, wife, and membership in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences when a wave of allegations arose accusing him of sexual misconduct.
On Sunday, when I watched the status posts beginning to spread, I told my wife that I was unsure of how to respond. On one side, it seemed like a powerful way to raise awareness. On the other side, a part of me worried that the distinction between sexual assault and sexual harassment might be lost by this sort of activism, maybe even causing pain to victims of assault. I wondered if social media posts like this could make an impact on the myriad problems related to issues surrounding the way men treat women.
I then asked my wife if I she thought I was wondering these things because of the patriarchal position, the perspective in which I live, given my gender. She said that was a tough question.
Now, several days later, I think I know the answer.
Yes.
Yes, any questions I have about this movement arise from my own patriarchal perspective. My very hesitancy at listening carefully to the voices of women from around my social network betrays the pervasive nature of patriarchy, how very hard it so often is for women to be truly heard by men when it comes to questions of sexual harassment and assault. I am complicit in that systemic reality and I have simply not done a good-enough job repenting of that complicity and seeking to be a better man.
So, the first thing I want to say is that I am so sorry.
I am sorry that a tidal wave of #MeToo posts has not provoked more shock and sadness, more contrition and desire for action in the men who have seen them. I’m sorry that men are often so unaware of what it is like to live like a woman in this society that we would be surprised that so many women have had this experience. I’m sorry that our first experience — my first experience — isn’t always to listen. I’m sorry that more of us don’t realize a culture that permits harassment is one in which assault also thrives.
Perhaps you’ve seen the image of a sailor passionately kissing a nurse during a parade celebrating the end of the Second World War. Perhaps you’ve thought how romantic it was.
It wasn’t. That is a photo of Greta Zimmer Friedman, a dental assistant who was grabbed that day by a sailor and kissed. As Friedman said in a 2005 interview with the Library of Congress, “It wasn’t my choice to be kissed. The guy just came over and grabbed! That man was very strong. I wasn’t kissing him. He was kissing me.”
That picture is an image of an unwanted physical assault upon a woman. But our culture is so blind that, to this day, many laud it as a playful example of American exuberance. It is actually a devastating example of culture’s treatment of women.
In “The Macho Paradox,” author Jackson Katz tells the story of drawing a line down a chalkboard, sketching a male symbol on one side and a female on the other, and then asking men, “What steps do you guys take, on a daily basis, to prevent yourselves from being sexually assaulted?” He says that the men sit there awkwardly, unsure of what to say except maybe to make a joke.
Then he asks women the same question. The answers immediately pour forth.
“Hold my keys as a potential weapon. Look in the back seat of the car before getting in. Carry a cellphone. Don't go jogging at night. Lock all the windows when I sleep, even on hot summer nights. Be careful not to drink too much. Don't put my drink down and come back to it; make sure I see it being poured. Own a big dog. Carry Mace or pepper spray. Have an unlisted phone number. Have a man's voice on my answering machine. Park in well-lit areas. Don't use parking garages. Don't get on elevators with only one man, or with a group of men. Vary my route home from work. Watch what I wear. Don't use highway rest areas. Use a home alarm system. Don't wear headphones when jogging. Avoid forests or wooded areas, even in the daytime. Don't take a first-floor apartment. Go out in groups. Own a firearm. Meet men on first dates in public places. Make sure to have a car or cab fare. Don't make eye contact with men on the street. Make assertive eye contact with men on the street.”
Every single day women have to make a myriad choices because our culture has conditioned men to treat them as objects, as things that can be coerced to serve the pleasure of men. Whether it is as seemingly innocent as complimenting a woman at work on how good she looks (instead of perhaps complimenting her on her excellent work and insight) or whether it is as pernicious as using your position, physical strength, or even just your demeanor to make unwanted advances with a woman — no matter what, it is wrong. It has created a world where strong, powerful, vibrant women live with a shame, sadness, anxiety or pain that should not be theirs to bear.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that every man is not only saying I’m sorry but is also working actively to monitor his own thoughts, behaviors and words, and asking how he may be complicit in this reality.
As men, we must do better. Every single #MeToo should make us sick to our stomach, should make us immediately reflect on our own lives, should make us the first to stand up when a woman has the courage to speak truthfully about her experience. Every single #MeToo should be met by a resolve not only to listen but actually to hear about these experiences — and to ask how we can dismantle this sin-soaked system.
Over the past few days, I have been seeing two very small words in my social media feed that carry tremendous weight: “Me too.”
The movement to post these words seems to have started Sunday, when actress Alyssa Milano tweeted: “Suggested by a friend: If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too’ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.” It began as a response to the news reports of Harvey Weinstein, the Hollywood producer who lost his job, wife, and membership in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences when a wave of allegations arose accusing him of sexual misconduct.
On Sunday, when I watched the status posts beginning to spread, I told my wife that I was unsure of how to respond. On one side, it seemed like a powerful way to raise awareness. On the other side, a part of me worried that the distinction between sexual assault and sexual harassment might be lost by this sort of activism, maybe even causing pain to victims of assault. I wondered if social media posts like this could make an impact on the myriad problems related to issues surrounding the way men treat women.
I then asked my wife if I she thought I was wondering these things because of the patriarchal position, the perspective in which I live, given my gender. She said that was a tough question.
Now, several days later, I think I know the answer.
Yes.
Yes, any questions I have about this movement arise from my own patriarchal perspective. My very hesitancy at listening carefully to the voices of women from around my social network betrays the pervasive nature of patriarchy, how very hard it so often is for women to be truly heard by men when it comes to questions of sexual harassment and assault. I am complicit in that systemic reality and I have simply not done a good-enough job repenting of that complicity and seeking to be a better man.
So, the first thing I want to say is that I am so sorry.
I am sorry that a tidal wave of #MeToo posts has not provoked more shock and sadness, more contrition and desire for action in the men who have seen them. I’m sorry that men are often so unaware of what it is like to live like a woman in this society that we would be surprised that so many women have had this experience. I’m sorry that our first experience — my first experience — isn’t always to listen. I’m sorry that more of us don’t realize a culture that permits harassment is one in which assault also thrives.
Perhaps you’ve seen the image of a sailor passionately kissing a nurse during a parade celebrating the end of the Second World War. Perhaps you’ve thought how romantic it was.
It wasn’t. That is a photo of Greta Zimmer Friedman, a dental assistant who was grabbed that day by a sailor and kissed. As Friedman said in a 2005 interview with the Library of Congress, “It wasn’t my choice to be kissed. The guy just came over and grabbed! That man was very strong. I wasn’t kissing him. He was kissing me.”
That picture is an image of an unwanted physical assault upon a woman. But our culture is so blind that, to this day, many laud it as a playful example of American exuberance. It is actually a devastating example of culture’s treatment of women.
In “The Macho Paradox,” author Jackson Katz tells the story of drawing a line down a chalkboard, sketching a male symbol on one side and a female on the other, and then asking men, “What steps do you guys take, on a daily basis, to prevent yourselves from being sexually assaulted?” He says that the men sit there awkwardly, unsure of what to say except maybe to make a joke.
Then he asks women the same question. The answers immediately pour forth.
“Hold my keys as a potential weapon. Look in the back seat of the car before getting in. Carry a cellphone. Don't go jogging at night. Lock all the windows when I sleep, even on hot summer nights. Be careful not to drink too much. Don't put my drink down and come back to it; make sure I see it being poured. Own a big dog. Carry Mace or pepper spray. Have an unlisted phone number. Have a man's voice on my answering machine. Park in well-lit areas. Don't use parking garages. Don't get on elevators with only one man, or with a group of men. Vary my route home from work. Watch what I wear. Don't use highway rest areas. Use a home alarm system. Don't wear headphones when jogging. Avoid forests or wooded areas, even in the daytime. Don't take a first-floor apartment. Go out in groups. Own a firearm. Meet men on first dates in public places. Make sure to have a car or cab fare. Don't make eye contact with men on the street. Make assertive eye contact with men on the street.”
Every single day women have to make a myriad choices because our culture has conditioned men to treat them as objects, as things that can be coerced to serve the pleasure of men. Whether it is as seemingly innocent as complimenting a woman at work on how good she looks (instead of perhaps complimenting her on her excellent work and insight) or whether it is as pernicious as using your position, physical strength, or even just your demeanor to make unwanted advances with a woman — no matter what, it is wrong. It has created a world where strong, powerful, vibrant women live with a shame, sadness, anxiety or pain that should not be theirs to bear.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that every man is not only saying I’m sorry but is also working actively to monitor his own thoughts, behaviors and words, and asking how he may be complicit in this reality.
As men, we must do better. Every single #MeToo should make us sick to our stomach, should make us immediately reflect on our own lives, should make us the first to stand up when a woman has the courage to speak truthfully about her experience. Every single #MeToo should be met by a resolve not only to listen but actually to hear about these experiences — and to ask how we can dismantle this sin-soaked system.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Action is needed in the wake of what happened in Las Vegas
Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
Like many of you, I awoke early Monday morning to the horrific news of the violence in Las Vegas. I tend to wake up a little before 6 a.m., just before my 14-month-old daughter likes to wake up. As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I saw the notification on my phone’s screen, one of the news apps I follow reporting on the many dead and the many more injured.
Mass shootings, disasters inflicted by the hands of humans who have become broken through hate or mental illness — or who just, for some inexplicable reason, decide to kill — these are increasingly difficult to respond to with anything more than a hand over the mouth, shocked at the destruction we are all witnessing.
And yet, as the Episcopal Church’s “Bishops United Against Gun Violence” said in their own statement released late in the afternoon on Monday, who noted that after thoughts and prayers, “we must act.” They continued, “As Christians, we are called to engage in the debates that shape how Americans live and die, especially when they die due to violence or neglect.”
The pressing question is: What action can we take? We feel powerless in the face of such violence, powerless to protect ourselves and our loved ones when people can so quickly take so many lives.
But we are not powerless.
Rather, we must renew our calls for sensible gun reform. As our bishops also noted in their own statement, “It is entirely reasonable in the wake of mass killings perpetrated by murderers with assault weapons to ask lawmakers to remove such weapons from civilian hands. It is imperative to ask why, as early as this very week, Congress is likely to pass a bill making it easier to buy silencers, a piece of equipment that makes it more difficult for law enforcement officials to detect gunfire as shootings are unfolding.”
These questions must be asked. We must not settle for the same responses, the same claims that the Second Amendment somehow guarantees an unhindered and unencumbered right to possess any weapon, no matter the destructive capacity.
I want to be clear: I am a gun owner. I have three guns in a safe in my home, all used for either hunting or sport. I have enjoyed the challenge of shooting a handgun in a safe, controlled environment just as much as I have appreciated the challenge of harvesting my own meat in the wild instead of relying solely on factory-farmed animals. I grew up here in Grand Haven with a step-father who was a licensed gun dealer and, thus, had a significant amount of firearms in the locked gun room of our home.
This is not about abridging the Second Amendment rights of Americans. I fully support guns for hunting, competitive and other sporting purposes. I also support guns for self-defense — though I am clear that my own guns are not for that purpose. I’m too aware of the statistics that a homeowner is more likely to be shot by his or her own gun than successfully use it to defend against an intruder. I support that right, but most people lack the training, unfortunately, to do that effectively.
That said, there is no compelling sporting reason for the use of silencers — indeed, they increase the danger of firearm use in both urban and rural areas. There is no compelling sporting reason for civilian access to military-style assault weapons, high-capacity magazines and armor-piercing ammunition. There is absolutely no compelling reason — in our time of easy internet access — to allow guns to be bought, purchased, or transferred without a background check and a registration of ownership. Whether selling a shotgun to a friend or purchasing a new rifle at a gun show, there must be a way to check the background of a prospective purchaser and ensure that no flags exist that should impede that sale.
Would all of this have stopped what happened in Las Vegas? I don’t know. We are all still learning the details of what led to this horrific act of violence. I hope that we continue to investigate what led to this shooting and engage in some societal self-examination about ways in which we may be complicit in any structures or norms which enable this kind of action.
But whether or not sensible gun reform would have stopped the shooter in Las Vegas, it would absolutely decrease the likelihood and the scale of future shootings. Rather than arguing about what would have stopped this horrific event, let’s look to the future. Look carefully in the eyes of our children and ask what sensible steps we can take in this society to make it safer for them.
We cannot make it perfectly safe. If people want to commit acts of violence and terror, they will always find a way.
But we must make it more difficult.
Inaction, at this moment, is unacceptable.
Like many of you, I awoke early Monday morning to the horrific news of the violence in Las Vegas. I tend to wake up a little before 6 a.m., just before my 14-month-old daughter likes to wake up. As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I saw the notification on my phone’s screen, one of the news apps I follow reporting on the many dead and the many more injured.
Mass shootings, disasters inflicted by the hands of humans who have become broken through hate or mental illness — or who just, for some inexplicable reason, decide to kill — these are increasingly difficult to respond to with anything more than a hand over the mouth, shocked at the destruction we are all witnessing.
And yet, as the Episcopal Church’s “Bishops United Against Gun Violence” said in their own statement released late in the afternoon on Monday, who noted that after thoughts and prayers, “we must act.” They continued, “As Christians, we are called to engage in the debates that shape how Americans live and die, especially when they die due to violence or neglect.”
The pressing question is: What action can we take? We feel powerless in the face of such violence, powerless to protect ourselves and our loved ones when people can so quickly take so many lives.
But we are not powerless.
Rather, we must renew our calls for sensible gun reform. As our bishops also noted in their own statement, “It is entirely reasonable in the wake of mass killings perpetrated by murderers with assault weapons to ask lawmakers to remove such weapons from civilian hands. It is imperative to ask why, as early as this very week, Congress is likely to pass a bill making it easier to buy silencers, a piece of equipment that makes it more difficult for law enforcement officials to detect gunfire as shootings are unfolding.”
These questions must be asked. We must not settle for the same responses, the same claims that the Second Amendment somehow guarantees an unhindered and unencumbered right to possess any weapon, no matter the destructive capacity.
I want to be clear: I am a gun owner. I have three guns in a safe in my home, all used for either hunting or sport. I have enjoyed the challenge of shooting a handgun in a safe, controlled environment just as much as I have appreciated the challenge of harvesting my own meat in the wild instead of relying solely on factory-farmed animals. I grew up here in Grand Haven with a step-father who was a licensed gun dealer and, thus, had a significant amount of firearms in the locked gun room of our home.
This is not about abridging the Second Amendment rights of Americans. I fully support guns for hunting, competitive and other sporting purposes. I also support guns for self-defense — though I am clear that my own guns are not for that purpose. I’m too aware of the statistics that a homeowner is more likely to be shot by his or her own gun than successfully use it to defend against an intruder. I support that right, but most people lack the training, unfortunately, to do that effectively.
That said, there is no compelling sporting reason for the use of silencers — indeed, they increase the danger of firearm use in both urban and rural areas. There is no compelling sporting reason for civilian access to military-style assault weapons, high-capacity magazines and armor-piercing ammunition. There is absolutely no compelling reason — in our time of easy internet access — to allow guns to be bought, purchased, or transferred without a background check and a registration of ownership. Whether selling a shotgun to a friend or purchasing a new rifle at a gun show, there must be a way to check the background of a prospective purchaser and ensure that no flags exist that should impede that sale.
Would all of this have stopped what happened in Las Vegas? I don’t know. We are all still learning the details of what led to this horrific act of violence. I hope that we continue to investigate what led to this shooting and engage in some societal self-examination about ways in which we may be complicit in any structures or norms which enable this kind of action.
But whether or not sensible gun reform would have stopped the shooter in Las Vegas, it would absolutely decrease the likelihood and the scale of future shootings. Rather than arguing about what would have stopped this horrific event, let’s look to the future. Look carefully in the eyes of our children and ask what sensible steps we can take in this society to make it safer for them.
We cannot make it perfectly safe. If people want to commit acts of violence and terror, they will always find a way.
But we must make it more difficult.
Inaction, at this moment, is unacceptable.
Monday, August 14, 2017
On Charlottesville: The Need for Renewed Repentance and Clear Action
I remember the first time I realized I was complicit in racism.
I was an undergraduate student at Rochester College, doing a Bachelor of Science in Biblical Studies, and one of my professors had assigned Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s, "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." Specifically, this section cut me to the quick,
I repented then and I have sought to renew that repentance regularly.
The events in Charlottesville, VA, this past weekend have been remarkably unsettling to see. The idea that so many people could gather in support of something like white supremacy, something so many of us thought had been finally pushed far to the edges of our society... this idea is shocking to me.
The fact that this idea is shocking to me, though, simply highlights how my own white privilege functions. It is shocking to me because I am largely insulated from the experiences of people of color in our country. It is shocking to me because I do not experience what they experience.
It is shocking to me because the fracturing of community, the societal resistance to movements like Black Lives Matter, all of this is something in which I am complicit... unless I choose specifically to do something different.
I think that perhaps I am experiencing Charlottesville differently because of my own parish's work in Latino ministry. Working with the Latino people here in Northwest Ottawa county has opened my eyes to the experiences with which they have to contend on a regular basis.
A little over a week ago, someone who is unaffiliated at our church—but was here for another event—angrily told one of our Latino members to "go back to where you came from." A couple other people who were at the other event complained that our Latino members should really speak English if they want to be here. These people are not members of our church, they were not even visitors to our church's worship. They were people in the community here because of another ministry we host... but they said these words in our church building.
That happened here. This happened only steps from the comfortable office in which I sit and write.
And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the membership of our church absolutely repudiates these statements. I have spoken with the person above and made it clear that some things are going to have to happen for him to make this situation right before he is welcome in our church again. I know all of this...
But my heart aches for the pain that this caused members of my church, including a devoted volunteer in our church's ministry who found herself singed by the crossfire and cultural conflict.
And my conscience is singed because I know that we, all of us who live in the Tri-Cities, have allowed segregation to continue unchecked in Ottawa county for decades. We have acknowledged it but we have done little to stop it. It is a fundamental reason for our Latino ministry—we didn't start this ministry because of the masses of Latinos, but because there was nothing—NOTHING—year round as a worshipping opportunity for those who speak Spanish. Our Latino ministry has, at its core, the hope that creating a small worshipping community in Spanish will hep break down walls of segregation and division.
So we're doing that now, at least in our church, but we have done so little before now. And still, all of us who live in the Tri-Cities, have continued to enable our own local segregation to continue. When people have said they don't want to go to Muskegon because it is dangerous or they don't like how Holland has "changed"... when these things are said and we don't say anything in response, we don't push back against the assumptions in this language, we have become silently complicit.
When the current Secretary of Education champions so-called "school choice," a policy that in her own hometown has massively increased segregation in the local schools, and we do not vigorously fight a policy that segregates white kids away from minority kids, then we have become complicit in this problem.
So my heart aches because I know that the sins we all denounce in Charlottesville are also creeping around the edges of our own congregations, our own souls. We all need to do self-examination and penance.
And my heart aches at the pain so many are experiencing as they watch what happened in Charlottesville. Make no mistake, this is not a one-off or odd event. What happened in Charlottesville is the result of a cultural movement that has been growing for a while. When a black person is 2.5 times more likely to be killed by a police officer than a white person, and then society tells black people they should not be protesting this reality, or they should not be protesting the way they are protesting, when society says that "Black Lives Matter" is part of the problem... this has only increased the power of the movements for division, hate, and the refusal to stand up and acknowledge the very real problem or racism—both intended and unintended—in our society.
I am reminded of another section from Dr. King's letter, when he responds to charges that his work is precipitating violence,
There is no compromise with racism that does not become complicit in that sin, that does not sit quietly by while scared parents tell their kids exactly how to respond to police so they won't get shot... and when even "the conversation" is not a guarantee of safety.
There is no compromise with misogyny that does not become complicit in that sin, that does not enable men to use violent words and actions toward women, that does not demean the whole other half of the human race—the half of the human race who, through the Blessed Virgin Mary, gave human flesh to the incarnation of God.
There is no compromise with homophobia that does not become complicit in that sin, that does not encourage a society where a couple can go for the joyous experience of buying a cake for their wedding only to be turned away—while so many other couples who actually do have all manner of sin in their relationships are offered cakes readily, simply because they are opposite-sex.
There is no compromise with any sin that dehumanizes a person.
Dr. King was worried about the future of Christianity, given the resistance so many in the church of his own day had toward the Civil Rights movement. He insisted,
That's not why.
That said, every time the church fails in authentically and faithfully making manifest the Good News of Jesus Christ, that in his riven flesh a divided humanity has been reunited and we have, by virtue of our baptism, been consecrated as agents of that reconciliation... overtime we fail in that we will also fail in our mission of evangelism and incorporation.
We can do better as a church. We must do better as a church.
What will that look like, this better action? Part of it is denouncing racism in the clearest terms, but it is so much more. It is the majority being quiet and listening when the minority is speaking up. It is not wagging your finger at a protest you don't understand, but instead seeking to find the pain within it. It is doing the simple work of reaching out to the marginalized in your own community of faith, making it clear that they are valued and important, raising them up to positions of leadership, where their voices can be heard.
And it is showing up when there is a march or a protest—just like so many clergy and laity did in Charlottesville, singing "This Little Light of Mine" in the face of militias holding semi-automatic weapons.
It is showing up and saying that any diminishment of my sister or brother in Christ is unacceptable, it is an anathema. I will not sit quietly by. I will speak.
This is our task and our time.
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.Though this letter was written decades before I was born, I recognized the impulses of the "white moderate" in my own life and thinking, not just when it comes to questions of race. I recognized how those impulses had led me to mitigate support for the full role of women in the ministry of the church in which I was raised. I recognized how easy it was for me, as a straight white male, to take a "moderate" position on the question of freedom for another human being... and how sin-saturated that position truly was.
I repented then and I have sought to renew that repentance regularly.
The fact that this idea is shocking to me, though, simply highlights how my own white privilege functions. It is shocking to me because I am largely insulated from the experiences of people of color in our country. It is shocking to me because I do not experience what they experience.
It is shocking to me because the fracturing of community, the societal resistance to movements like Black Lives Matter, all of this is something in which I am complicit... unless I choose specifically to do something different.
I think that perhaps I am experiencing Charlottesville differently because of my own parish's work in Latino ministry. Working with the Latino people here in Northwest Ottawa county has opened my eyes to the experiences with which they have to contend on a regular basis.
A little over a week ago, someone who is unaffiliated at our church—but was here for another event—angrily told one of our Latino members to "go back to where you came from." A couple other people who were at the other event complained that our Latino members should really speak English if they want to be here. These people are not members of our church, they were not even visitors to our church's worship. They were people in the community here because of another ministry we host... but they said these words in our church building.
That happened here. This happened only steps from the comfortable office in which I sit and write.
And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the membership of our church absolutely repudiates these statements. I have spoken with the person above and made it clear that some things are going to have to happen for him to make this situation right before he is welcome in our church again. I know all of this...
But my heart aches for the pain that this caused members of my church, including a devoted volunteer in our church's ministry who found herself singed by the crossfire and cultural conflict.
And my conscience is singed because I know that we, all of us who live in the Tri-Cities, have allowed segregation to continue unchecked in Ottawa county for decades. We have acknowledged it but we have done little to stop it. It is a fundamental reason for our Latino ministry—we didn't start this ministry because of the masses of Latinos, but because there was nothing—NOTHING—year round as a worshipping opportunity for those who speak Spanish. Our Latino ministry has, at its core, the hope that creating a small worshipping community in Spanish will hep break down walls of segregation and division.
So we're doing that now, at least in our church, but we have done so little before now. And still, all of us who live in the Tri-Cities, have continued to enable our own local segregation to continue. When people have said they don't want to go to Muskegon because it is dangerous or they don't like how Holland has "changed"... when these things are said and we don't say anything in response, we don't push back against the assumptions in this language, we have become silently complicit.
When the current Secretary of Education champions so-called "school choice," a policy that in her own hometown has massively increased segregation in the local schools, and we do not vigorously fight a policy that segregates white kids away from minority kids, then we have become complicit in this problem.
So my heart aches because I know that the sins we all denounce in Charlottesville are also creeping around the edges of our own congregations, our own souls. We all need to do self-examination and penance.
And my heart aches at the pain so many are experiencing as they watch what happened in Charlottesville. Make no mistake, this is not a one-off or odd event. What happened in Charlottesville is the result of a cultural movement that has been growing for a while. When a black person is 2.5 times more likely to be killed by a police officer than a white person, and then society tells black people they should not be protesting this reality, or they should not be protesting the way they are protesting, when society says that "Black Lives Matter" is part of the problem... this has only increased the power of the movements for division, hate, and the refusal to stand up and acknowledge the very real problem or racism—both intended and unintended—in our society.
I am reminded of another section from Dr. King's letter, when he responds to charges that his work is precipitating violence,
In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn't this like condemning a robbed man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn't this like condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock? Isn't this like condemning Jesus because his unique God consciousness and never ceasing devotion to God's will precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the robber.There is work to be done, children of God. Our society is in a place of deep unfaithfulness. We are no longer protecting the robbed and punishing the robber. Those who are danger from the implications of racist, misogynistic, and homophobic language are trying to stand up and sound the alarm. The answer cannot be a moderate response, one that seeks compromise.
There is no compromise with racism that does not become complicit in that sin, that does not sit quietly by while scared parents tell their kids exactly how to respond to police so they won't get shot... and when even "the conversation" is not a guarantee of safety.
There is no compromise with misogyny that does not become complicit in that sin, that does not enable men to use violent words and actions toward women, that does not demean the whole other half of the human race—the half of the human race who, through the Blessed Virgin Mary, gave human flesh to the incarnation of God.
There is no compromise with homophobia that does not become complicit in that sin, that does not encourage a society where a couple can go for the joyous experience of buying a cake for their wedding only to be turned away—while so many other couples who actually do have all manner of sin in their relationships are offered cakes readily, simply because they are opposite-sex.
There is no compromise with any sin that dehumanizes a person.
Dr. King was worried about the future of Christianity, given the resistance so many in the church of his own day had toward the Civil Rights movement. He insisted,
But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.Don't get me wrong, the reason for repentance and protest in Christianity today is not to grow the church. It is not to get young people—any people who no longer trust the institution to do what is needed—in the doors to prove that we're worth their time.
That's not why.
That said, every time the church fails in authentically and faithfully making manifest the Good News of Jesus Christ, that in his riven flesh a divided humanity has been reunited and we have, by virtue of our baptism, been consecrated as agents of that reconciliation... overtime we fail in that we will also fail in our mission of evangelism and incorporation.
We can do better as a church. We must do better as a church.
What will that look like, this better action? Part of it is denouncing racism in the clearest terms, but it is so much more. It is the majority being quiet and listening when the minority is speaking up. It is not wagging your finger at a protest you don't understand, but instead seeking to find the pain within it. It is doing the simple work of reaching out to the marginalized in your own community of faith, making it clear that they are valued and important, raising them up to positions of leadership, where their voices can be heard.
And it is showing up when there is a march or a protest—just like so many clergy and laity did in Charlottesville, singing "This Little Light of Mine" in the face of militias holding semi-automatic weapons.
It is showing up and saying that any diminishment of my sister or brother in Christ is unacceptable, it is an anathema. I will not sit quietly by. I will speak.
This is our task and our time.
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