Injustice in Ferguson

I should probably be polite and use diplomatic language to describe the way I feel – but hearing that Ferguson (Missouri) Police Officer Darren Wilson was not indicted by a Grand Jury for shooting Michael Brown has me pissed off.

I’m pissed off because another man shot and killed another boy and got away with it.

I’m pissed off because another white man shot and killed another black boy and got away with it.

I’m pissed off because another trained cop shot and killed another unarmed civilian and got away with it.

And if I, a white Canadian man, am pissed off, how much harder must this be for people who actually have something in common with Michael Brown? I am angry beyond what polite words can describe, and I haven’t lived any of the experience of Michael Brown. So I started to wonder, why do these cases bother me so? The conclusion I reached is one that makes me very uncomfortable.

 

The reason these injustices bother me so is not because of some imagined affinity with the victims, but because of how much I have in common with the perpetrators.

I’m sick to my stomach because if I were a few sizes smaller I’d look like Darren Wilson.

I’m sick to my stomach because if I were a few years older I’d look like Robert McCulloch (the St Louis County Prosecutor whose actions made sure the Grand Jury would never indict Officer Wilson).

I’m sick to my stomach because I look like all those commentators out there who don’t even understand how racist they are when they call Mike Brown a thug.

This case, and so many more like it, disturbs me to the core and the reason is that in every single one you could swap the photo of the police officer (or the security guard or the neighbourhood watch member) with mine and no one would blink. I’m not offended because of a connection with the victim, I’m offended because there is so little that separates me from the offenders. I’m not Darren Wilson – but before his face was splashed across the news you wouldn’t have any way of knowing that.

Injustice is real, and it benefits me

Racism is real. There are more opportunities available to me as a white man than there are for people of colour. There are doors that, both figuratively and literally, are open to me but not to others with a different skin colour. Now I know that there are those out there who will point out that there are affirmative action programs in education, that on job postings you see things like “women, visible and sexual minorities are encouraged to apply”. It’s true – but if you think that puts me at a disadvantage you don’t understand what’s going on. No one needs to encourage me to apply, no one needs to create a space for me in a classroom, no one needed to go to court or parliament for my right to marry the person I love. If we lived in a genuinely equal society we wouldn’t need to encourage minorities to apply because they would have the confidence that their application would be judged on its merit and not discarded because of an ethnic, or female name. I was born into a world that laid everything at my feet, and the fact that a few steps are being taken to give others the same chance I was born with doesn’t negate my privilege, it proves it.

And when it comes to life and death, being born who I am means that I’m far less likely to die at the hands of authority. I can go for a jog after the sun sets without being stopped by a passing police cruiser to ask what I am doing. I can go the 7-11 in jeans and a sweater for an ice tea and skittles without the neighbourhood watch getting anxious. I can walk past police at a public event and joke with them saying that “I didn’t do it” and get a laugh instead of being interrogated about what “it” was. I can walk in and out of banks and jewelry stores without drawing even a second glance from security guards. Even if I have done something wrong, odds are that I’m more likely to get a warning or a fine they are options, less likely to go to jail if I do get arrested and if it happens in a place with capital punishment I’m less likely to be sentenced to death than a person of colour convicted of the same offence. And the scenario where I would be shot by police is so far fetched that it’s not even worth writing. The system is set up to protect me at the expense of those who aren’t like me.

God hates injustice

Perhaps by now you’re wondering – why does all this bother me? Afterall, the whole thing is set up to benefit me. Well first of all it bothers me because I’m no more human than the so-called others who pay the price for my privilege. Our hearts beat the same rhythms, our lungs breathe the same air, our mouths eat the same bread. That’s all the reason I need to feel sick when another human being is subjected to injustice. But if I needed another I could turn to my faith in a God who hates injustice. Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin and hundreds of other young men of colour whose names I don’t know were created in the same image of God as me. The books of the prophets are filled with themes of justice, either calling an unjust nation to repent or promising an oppressed nation deliverance. The words of Jesus are filled with justice. Even Paul wrote that there was no division in Christ.

The injustice of our systems may benefit people like me in the short-term, but in the end I believe that God will bring justice to the world and those who are shedding the blood young black men will have to account for it before a perfectly just judge. What makes me so uncomfortable is how easy it would be to count me among those subject to that judgement. Now of course I believe in forgiveness and redemption. I am not saying that these people are lost, but that there is something for which they as individuals and we as a community need to repent.

I do have faith that the injustice of Ferguson and those like it can be redeemed, but for that to happen the community of people who look like me need to repent our sins.

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. – Jesus

Moving

My wife and I are moving at the end of this week. Will be back to normal posting next week. Thanks for your patience.

The Church Of My Dreams Part 2

Last week I wrote a piece beginning to talk about the church I see in my dreams. I shared the notion that I believe that mutual love and a commitment to coming together in the service of others formed a better foundation for church community than agreement on theological principles. While stating that I do recognize that theology does play a role in anything like a church that we will have, so this week I’d like to share how I envision a church doing theology.

Participation not Preaching

I’m going to start with the part of this that is possibly hardest on me. You see, I like preaching. I like listening to a good preacher, I like the process of writing a sermon and I like standing up in front of a group of people and delivering that sermon. What’s more I’ve been told far too many times for my own good that I have a gift for it. Even people who don’t like what I have to say have given me compliments on how I said it. So it truly pains my ego to say this, since I have a gift for it and enjoy doing it; but preaching needs to go. This old notion of one man standing at the front behind a pulpit expounding with all the trappings of authority on what is correct needs to be quickly consigned to the history books. While it’s true that this form of communication can build a form of community I don’t think it’s a healthy one and I don’t think it’s either what existed or what was envisioned by Jesus and his apostles.

Instead, I see the communion table being more than just an object hauled out on a periodic basis for a ceremony a significant number of churchgoers are, according to the statistics, likely to avoid if they know it’s coming. I see the communion table being the centre of the church. I am far more comfortable with the idea of every person sitting around as equals, and having a dialogue with one another. Now I know my theory on this is “unique” but I don’t see communion as something rare and shrouded in mystery. On the contrary; there are plenty of elements from the passover feast that Jesus and the disciples were celebrating when he established communion that would have been uncommon. There are elements of the Seder that are eaten only with that meal, and I believe that if Jesus had wanted to establish a ritualised practice that used special elements he would have done that. Instead he took the only two elements of the meal that were common to every meal (and in most cultures of the time) and attached meaning to them. I think that Jesus was saying to those disciples, whenever you eat or drink, remember me. Therefore I think it is perfectly appropriate to share a meal every time we gather. Meals are where life is shared, and I believe that is what Jesus wanted to establish.

Who Can Sit at the Table

This is actually one of the most crucial questions facing church today, and it’s one to which I offer a simple (but not easy) answer. Anyone who comes. That’s right, I believe in a fully open practice of community and a discussion that involves anyone who wants to participate. If a person is willing to be part of a community that loves one another and serves their neighbours then they meet the religious requirements of my faith. How they come to the place of love and service and the way they view God aren’t reasons for division in my view. In fact, much the opposite, I hope and pray for diversity at the table. Adventist and Baptist, Protestant and Catholic, Christian and Muslim, Monotheist and Polytheist and even Atheist – I want all at the table. White and Black, rich and poor, liberal and conservative, straight and gay, male and female – I want all at the table and in an equal seat.

I desire this diverse table because I believe at a fundamental level that we are all one. My blood is no redder than another’s, my experience is no more valid than another’s, my faith is no more sacred than another’s. Now I know this position makes a lot of people uncomfortable. Going outside our boundaries always does. But I think that it’s only through genuine community and shared experience that we truly grow and it’s the only way for us to understand God. You see I value my faith, I never want to lose my faith, I believe that my faith has an incredible picture of God; but I do not believe for an instant that the succession of traditions that has led to my faith is the only path through history that God has revealed himself.

I’ll go into this in more detail in a future post, but in short I find that it paints a very petty picture of a God we call love to believe that there is only one line of chosen people throughout human history and all others are outside his grace. Yes I believe that God has revealed himself to my forefathers and foremothers, but I also believe that he has revealed himself to my Muslim friends’ forefathers and foremothers, to my Buddhist friends’ forefathers and foremothers and to my Pagan friends’ forefathers and foremothers. And I am secure enough in my own faith and identity to allow those friends to share their perspectives. I won’t become a Muslim, a Buddhist or a Pagan; but there is much I can learn from them. In the same way I have no expectation that these friends will convert to my religion; but I hope to be able to share the blessings I’ve received with them.

At the end of days I don’t believe that God is going to be checking membership cards, but judging hearts. And in my faith, the one after whom we are named said that it comes down to a question of love. So since all these people are capable of love all have a right to sit at the table, all have a right to contribute to the dialogue and I hope that all will give me the right to call myself their brother.

I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. – Jesus