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From Psalm 133:
How rare it is, how lovely, this fellowship of those who meet together.
 ack in February, Sue Fraley, Ruth Cowger and I participated in a
weekend at First Unitarian in Denver. The event was entitled “Turning to
One Another II, UU Social Justice Ministries.” This was my first
experience with any sort of “ministry” and I had no clue of what to
expect. Frankly the three of us were overwhelmed; it seemed that we were
the only ones attending without a long string of abbreviations both
before and after our names. Yet I emerged from this gathering so jazzed
up about the possibilities of increasing CUUC’s involvement in social
justice work that when Barry tapped me to speak today I agreed. Sue and
Ruth will speak on other days; the thoughts that follow are my own.
Social Justice work is not charity. It is not giving money or
material possessions or food to those in need. It is not writing a check
to the International Red Cross for disaster relief. Please do not
misunderstand me, giving some of the bounty we have to others who have
less or none is part of being a citizen of this planet, of being UU, and
I hope we all honor that role. It’s just that social justice isn’t that
simple, that easy, that clean, that anonymous; it’s messy, inconvenient,
discomfiting, sometimes very public and calculated, and sometimes very
private.
Social Justice aims not to make things better, but to change the
societal and cultural ground rules which benefit some at the expense of
others.
For example, you know:
When we buy our coffee from Equal Exchange, we support changing the
rules for individual farmers as they strive for a fair price for their
crops by bypassing the distribution control of multinational companies.
You know, When we walk in the PrideFest parade, we change cultural
ground rules by asking our neighbors to reconsider the definition of
“normal.”
You know, When we read with a student at Ft. Logan, we support change
by helping her develop the English skills she will need to survive in
this country.
And you know, When we reduce our waste and eat lower on the food
chain, we help change the rules about how we use resources.
These are good actions. There is more we can do. But taking specific
action was not what the conference Turning to One Another was about.
This was a Unitarian Universalist gathering focused on a wider vision of
a UU world in practice, of our seven principles in practice. We can
imagine what that world might look like; this conference was about the
necessity of supporting each other as we find the steps to create that
world.
Indeed most of the weekend fell under the context of principles 3 and
4, not the obvious dignity, compassion, right of conscience, peace,
liberty, justice, web of life principles. But #3 which speaks of
acceptance and spiritual growth, and # 4 which asks for a free and
responsible search for truth. How do we make the case for Social Justice
by talking about spiritual growth and truth?
Perhaps it is that looking honestly at the truth of the injustice of
our culture requires the strong stomach provided by spiritual growth.
And so the conference hosted small group sessions on non-violence, on
class-ism, on worker justice, on meditating for peace, and on looking
within our bodies for clues of our personal challenges. The plenary
sessions spoke to the responsibility, the accountability required of
those who work for social justice, to the need to build networks before
the networks are needed in time of stress, and to the vehicle of
congregation-based community organizing to reach out to our non-UU
partners for change. But daily, twice daily there was time for
reflection and after reflection for listening to others, and to speak.
I learned, again, of our structural injustice: that the side effect
of our highly competitive, highly successful material society is that
the rules, those strategies that allow us largely white educated folk
here in the US to win our prosperity, those are the same rules designed
to make sure others don’t win.
I learned, again, that the great problems are isolation, ignorance,
and arrogance. Not others’ isolation, ignorance, and arrogance, but
mine.
When we were young, David and I lived for a long time in New York
City. Our neighborhood in Brooklyn was anchored around an art college
located between two black ghettos, Bedford-Stuyvesant and Ft. Greene. I
was a naïve kid from Littleton in the hostile inner city. And I felt the
hostility. I learned to be very aware of everyone on the block, to
become invisible on a subway platform, to keep my expression hard, to
avert my eyes. I kept to my own kind and away from my neighbors. I was
mugged by a group of men at the corner, robbed at knife point in an
elevator, and was robbed at gun point in my store. Eventually the
neighborhood became gentrified as we largely white college grads and
artists renovated the buildings and pushed those who could not pay the
rising rents further out into Bed-Stuy. Despite the prettier
neighborhood, I still assumed danger on the streets and I looked at
every black person with suspicion: I engaged in racial profiling, I
assessed the dress, affect, education, and intent of everyone I saw who
was not white.
Years later, we were still living there when Chris was about 3. My
son and I were going through a frustrating time as he had his agenda and
I had mine. One morning we were walking to preschool and Chris simply
could not take any more. Suddenly he was out of his stroller and running
home, I stopped him. And there at the corner, on the sidewalk, he had a
meltdown. My child was laying face to the concrete screaming and
flailing. I couldn’t contain him, couldn’t calm him, couldn’t stop his
tantrum, and all my old fears about being alone in a dangerous world
came rushing back. Across the intersection I could see two, big, black
matrons walking up the block watching us, they weren’t smiling. They
crossed the street and as they stepped around us one said, “Honey, don’t
you give into that child. When he wears out, pick him up and do what you
need to do.” I was stunned. In one sentence, a stranger, whom I had
prejudged to be a danger, had offered me compassion. A woman I assumed
to be ignorant had reaffirmed my abilities as a mother. She saw not our
differences, she saw our shared experience of raising a child, and she
offered me support when I needed it.
I did not know it then, but that woman was engaged in social justice
work when she spoke to me. Her words stopped my prejudice. Her action
changed the ground rules by which I live. And she effected change by
treating me as a human being. I’d say that her spirituality helped her
see the truth of me as only a stressed out mother and not as the enemy
that I saw in her.
I wonder sometimes how different my years there could have been, if I
had been better prepared to live in an economic system I did not
recognize to be hostile to so many people. Or, if I were part of a
spiritual community designed to be inclusive. I only knew then to turn
away from what scared me.
So, of the three big problems, I’m not worried about ignorance or
arrogance. I figure someone here will set me straight to the facts and
cut my attitude down to size. It’s our focus on our own problems that
scares me. If we only keep to our own kind, the way I did in Brooklyn,
our world will close in around us. We won’t be a welcoming congregation,
because there will be only us to welcome. We won’t be a liberal church,
because we will be only concerned with our own lives. We won’t work for
social justice, because we won’t want to change the rules that protect
us.
We do need to turn to one another for support as we find the steps
which will take us out into a larger world. I believe as we venture out,
as we look for the truth of the great and of the injust in our society,
as we accept the understanding that truth brings us, compelling little
thoughts will occur to us. And as we get those compelling little
thoughts about “gee, there outta be a ____” ,or “why doesn’t someone
_____”, or “maybe I could ___________”, that’s when we need to turn back
to one another. Sharing those compelling little thoughts with each other
will lead to social justice work fueled by our UU principles and our
passion for what our world might look like. |
