We live in a time of great conflict, division, unrest and sorrow. Even simple interactions are occasions of disagreement and negotiation: can we worship inside? With or without masks? With or without singing? Can we put a yard sign in our yards? Will the neighbors steal it, spray paint it, target us and our homes?
Bible studies veer into political rants. Calls with much love family members end in tears and accusation. Articles shared on Facebook pages yield all-caps responses and sudden rupture in decade-long friendships.
The songs of The Porter’s Gate have been my soundtrack during the past few months, and one recent song has become my prayer.
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| We Will Make No Peace with Oppression |
Lord, make me an instrument of peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is darkness, let me sow light . . .
It’s a reworking of the familiar words of a prayer attributed to Saint Francis, a beautiful prayer that seems right for this divided time.
Yet there’s another song in the same set of Justice Songs that seems to speak in contradiction, and echoes in my heart and mind as a response, even rebuke, to the more familiar song:
We will make no peace with oppressionMy inner tension between those songs exploded this week at the news of the death of Walter Wallace, Jr. Just blocks from where I once lived in West Philadelphia, a mother called 911 asking for help with a son suffering from bipolar disorder. Police showed up in force and within minutes her son was dead, shot ten times as the distraught mother pleaded for non-violent intervention.
We won’t turn away from our brothers, cries of our sisters, grieving of our mothers.
We won’t turn away from destructive politicians, overflowing prisons, corruption in our systems. Almighty God, help us not to be afraid.
Almighty God, give us Your Strength.
Reading responses on social media, I found myself sick at heart at the way some were quick to condone his death, to share mug shots from his many interactions with police, to write off our cities, to support the precipitous use of force.
I have a brother who has struggled for years with bipolar disorder, who has had more interactions with police than I can count, who has dozens of mug shots, taken across decades.
He’s a large, loving guy who is scary when manic. He would likely have been dead years ago if he was black instead of white.
Sam and Beca Lufi were part of our Urban Serve team in the last years I served as a full-time youth pastor and now live in Kensington, looking for ways to serve that beleaguered community. Sam’s email this week put my tension into perspective. With his permission I’m sharing part of that here:
The protests and violence in response to police killing Walter Wallace, Jr are not a knee-jerk reaction to a single incident but to centuries of frustration, pain, and hopelessness caused by explicit policies of injustice, racism, and economic oppression. . . .
He’s a large, loving guy who is scary when manic. He would likely have been dead years ago if he was black instead of white.
Sam and Beca Lufi were part of our Urban Serve team in the last years I served as a full-time youth pastor and now live in Kensington, looking for ways to serve that beleaguered community. Sam’s email this week put my tension into perspective. With his permission I’m sharing part of that here:
The protests and violence in response to police killing Walter Wallace, Jr are not a knee-jerk reaction to a single incident but to centuries of frustration, pain, and hopelessness caused by explicit policies of injustice, racism, and economic oppression. . . .
I serve on a formal committee with the city that has advocated since the beginning of the year for specific policies that would increase police accountability, would build trust with community members, and would help create safety in our neighborhoods. One initiative, Police Assisted Diversion, has been piloted in our neighborhood. Mental health workers have joined police on patrols and police are supposed to refer clients to get housing, medical, and addiction help. Officers have consistently not offered this option, choosing to arrest individuals instead (only about 1/4 of eligible individuals were made aware of the opportunity and white people were more likely to be referred than black people). The social work professionals reported that requirements to wear body armor (imposed by the police on anyone accompanying them) escalated tension with those in the community. Police representatives have been unwilling to follow-up on these requests.
When protests have moved out of national visibility, have we continued to work on the issues - to create sustainable jobs, provide better access to education, strengthen mental health support and addiction treatment, and house those on the streets? In general, the answer has been "no." The plights of our marginalized brothers and sisters only matter to us when they disrupt our comfort.
This recognition, this perspective is new for me but is not new for our country. The perpetuation of two distinct America's - one with more than enough and one with barely enough - has been identified and named long before we began our humble mission to Philadelphia. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. tried to call our collective attention to this reality decades ago, but we have refused to hear or learn.
But it is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society. These conditions are the things that cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention. And I must say tonight that a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the negro poor has worsened over the last twelve or fifteen years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice and humanity.Jesus was never concerned with tranquility and the status quo at the expense of the marginalized and oppressed. He stood up for those who were caught doing wrong, for those who were ethnically and economically marginalized, those whose health issues placed them outside the bounds of society. He opposed those who had religious and political influence and used it to keep people homeless while expecting them to continue religious giving.
Peacekeeping is not the same thing as peace-making.
Peacekeepers will stand on the side of law and order every time.
Peacemakers understand that real peace is impossible until evil is addressed and oppression is ended.
What will that look like this week, as a contentious election unfolds and we face the damage done in this bitter election season?
It will look different for each of us, but this prayer, the basis of that challenging Porter’s Gate song, is a good place to begin:
Almighty God, who created us in your own image: Grant us grace fearlessly to contend against evil and to make no peace with oppression; and, that we may reverently use our freedom, help us to employ it in the maintenance of justice in our communities and among the nations, to the glory of your holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, 1979)
