Charlottesville – Symptoms of a Deeper Disease

Charlottesville – Symptoms of a Deeper Disease

As yesterday’s events, in Charlottesville, VA, were unfolding – white supremacist rallies and counter rallies, leading to violence and death – I happened to be finishing T.H. White’s novel, The Once and Future King.  The Once and Future King is White’s retelling of the Arthurian legend of King Arthur, Merlin, Camelot, the round table, Excalibur, Lancelot and Guinevere.

A young Arthur discovered that he was the rightful King, when he successfully pulled the sword, Excalibur, from a stone – a task only possible for the one who was worthy.  Having been trained by the sorcerer, Merlin, Arthur believed in building a kingdom of peace and law, founded on the principles of chivalry.  He would rule his kingdom, equitably, from a round table surrounded by knights, committed not to war but to fighting evil and defending good.

By the end of the novel, King Arthur was a defeated, old man.  All of his closest relationships were broken.  His kingdom was at war.  All that he had worked to create, was in ruins.  In the final pages, Arthur wrestled with what had gone awry.  Considering numerous philosophical possibilities, he wondered…

Was it the wicked leaders who led the innocent populations to slaughter, or was it wicked populations who chose leaders after their own hearts?  On the face of it, it seemed unlikely that one Leader could force a million Englishmen against their will… A leader was surely forced to offer something which appealed to those he led?  He might give the impetus for a falling building, but surely it has to be toppling on its own account before it fell?

David Duke, the former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, said of Saturday’s events, “This represents a turning point for the people of this country. We are determined to take our country back, we’re going to fulfill the promises of Donald Trump, and that’s what we believed in, that’s why we voted for Donald Trump, because he said he’s going to take our country back and that’s what we gotta do,”  

But, later in the day, President Trump said,“We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It’s been going on for a long time in our country.”  

While I am not a fan of President Trump, I take him at his word.  Donald Trump did not cause the events in Charlottesville, VA.  And, in fact, my fear is that the thousands of white supremacists gathered in Charlottesville – with their Klan robes, swastikas, and Confederate flags – were merely symptomatic of a much deeper ill.  What we witnessed in Charlottesville is the extreme outward and visible sign of a much deeper, wide-spread disease, infecting the roots of our society.  I honestly fear that what we’ve witnessed is representative of a reality far more broken and insidious than most of us have realized is still possible in 2017.

If there were several thousand overt racists in Charlottesville, publicly espousing their venomous hatred, how many more do they represent who were not in attendance?  Or – a more disturbing possibility – how many of us publicly condemn groups like the Klan and Skinheads, but privately hold to our own racist ideologies?

The roots of prejudice, racism and hate run deep in this country.  It is a dark and shameful blot on our national story.  While progress has been made to ensure the civil rights of all people, and to confront and cure myriad racial injustices, the events in Charlottesville reveal that changing laws may be easier than changing hateful hearts.  While we might be able to elect an African-American President – which was truly a momentous, historic event – how much more racial hatred grew and intensified as a result of that election?

Is Arthur right?  Might a person, a group, an event, a demonstration… “give the impetus for a falling building, but surely it has to be toppling on its own account before it fell?”  Perhaps the events of Charlottesville, and other’s like them, are merely a falling building; but, the building has surely been toppling on its own account.

In the last year, I accepted the challenge to expand my reading to include more diverse authors.  As a result, I’ve read John Perkins, Bryan Stevenson, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Lisa Sharon Harper, Gustavo Guttierez, Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu, and Trilla J. Newbell. Needless-to-say, I’ve been challenged.  My eyes have been opened to the reality of white, North American privilege, and the inherent advantages I’ve had as a white male.  My eyes have been opened to the institutional racism that has existed in our nation in the form of unjust laws.  I’ve been forced to face, over and over, the prejudicial lies that have lived in my own heart and mind.

I’ll be honest – I’m ashamed.

So, where do we go from here?  Simple shock, outrage, and condemnation about an isolated event – though justified and understandable –  won’t cut it.

More of us, who are white and hold positions of power and influence, must make conscious decisions and choices to confront the prejudices and stereotypes that exist within ourselves, and leverage whatever influence we have to encourage and support those who are on the front lines of change.  We must pursue and nurture authentic friendships with diverse peoples.  We must be willing to lead when we must lead and be willing to follow when we need to follow.  We must be willing to listen when we need to listen, and to speak prophetically on behalf of the voiceless.  We must be patient with what we do not understand, and impatient with those who refuse to understand.  We must learn, and act on what we learn.  We must love, expanding our hearts to include those we might have previously feared.  We must be willing to repent and change.

And, we must name the evil of racism when we see it.  What we saw this weekend was evil.

I’m still inspired by the dream of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr – perhaps now more than ever – and I sense a deepening conviction to not only be inspired, but to do my part to fulfill the dream…

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. 

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. 

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification”, one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. 

 

 

The Sin of Being Passive

The Sin of Being Passive

I can easily be accused of being passive.  I don’t move quickly.  I take my time making decisions.  I tend to be quiet – taking in more than I express.  I don’t get very excited very often.  I prefer peace and calm.  I don’t show much variation of facial expression.  I can watch grass grow or paint dry, and be perfectly content.

But, I wouldn’t say that I am mentally passive.  In fact, my mind is so active that I have trouble shutting my thoughts down.  But, externally, I realize that’s a different story.

During Lent, I’ve been reflecting on that line from a familiar prayer of confession, “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done…”  We not only need to confess our sins of commission, but also our sins of omission – in other words, our sins of passivity.  While I may not be guilty of this or that particular action (though I likely am), I am very likely guilty of inaction.

It recently occurred to me that Adam was standing next to Eve – passively – while the snake tempted the two of them to eat the forbidden fruit.  Then Adam blamed God for making Eve.

When the angels told Lot’s family to leave Sodom, they dragged their feet.

When Dinah was raped (Genesis 34), her father, Jacob, did nothing.

Passive.

Isaiah 1:17 says, Learn to do right; seek justice.  Defend the oppressed.  Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”

That’s action.  That’s what it means to God’s people.

But, by verse 23, Isaiah says that, our rulers are rebels, partners with thieves; they all love bribes and chase after gifts. They do not defend the cause of the fatherless; the widow’s case does not come before them.”  Their actions were evil – bribery, corruption, theft.  But, equally evil was their inaction – including the distinctive call to God’s people to love justice and do kindness – “they do not defend the cause of the fatherless; the widow’s case does not come before them.”

Archbishop Desmond Tutu writes, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

Oppression is not only the result of sinful action.  Oppression is also the result of passive inaction – MY passive inaction.  YOUR passive inaction?

Though I read and speak and write about justice, acting on behalf of the oppressed and the marginalized is another matter.  I cannot – we cannot – passively watch the injustice in our communities and broader world, and do nothing.  We are called to be people of action – to be a hand of mercy and a voice of prophecy.  We are called to act.  To do less, is nothing less than sin.

I confess that sometimes my passivity is selfish – I just don’t want to do anything.

I confess that sometimes my passivity is selective blindness – if I don’t see it, it must not be happening (ostrich syndrome).

I confess that sometimes my passivity is rooted in busyness – I am so busy doing church work that I don’t have time to do Kingdom work (there is a difference).

I confess that sometimes my passivity is a result of cowardice – will I be criticized for this, and am I willing to pay the price?

I confess that sometimes I am passive because I don’t know what to do – ignorance becoming a convenient crutch.

In 1963, Dr. Martin Luther king wrote the following words from a Birmingham jail cell, largely to white passive pastors, who were discouraging his actions, “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people. We must come to see that human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this hard work time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.”

“The time is always ripe to do what is right.”

This week, chemical weapons were deployed in Syria, Isis killed over 50 people in Syria and Iraq, and – as is true every other week – multitudes of people are suffering and dying in countless ways, while I passively do nothing.

Forgive me, Lord, for what I have left undone, and those things which I ought to have done. 

What will we do?  What will I do?