Compassion is defined as “sympathetic pity and
concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others.” But I agree with
theologian Karen Armstrong that the word “pity” has some extra baggage, and it
seems to me that extra baggage is packed with the subtext of looking down on
someone, seeing that person as somehow less than I am, and helping them because
they are less than me, or, said another way, because I am in a position of
power over. Pity just doesn’t fit with
my understanding of compassion. And
compassion seems greater than baseline concern. Concern is a somewhat amorphous
term that could mean anything from being interested in to being worried or
anxious about, to actually caring about someone. Compassion, when contrasted
with concern, is more focused than concern.
Compassion, at least to me, is about how we behave toward one another;
how we take care of one another while treating each other with respect, and
experiencing each other as having worth and dignity. Compassion springs from the abundance of love
we have in our hearts to share and from the belief that we all have an enormous
supply of lovingkindness within us to treat not only ourselves well, but also
others well. In a more compact way I
define compassion as: intentionally, equitably, and actively caring for one
another. How does this kind of
compassion look now-a-days?
For over a
week now, images of George Floyd’s murder—what is in essence, if not fact, his
lynching—has replayed countless times on countless media outlets. In my opinion, this has been in no way an
expression of compassion by the news organizations, these never-ending replays
of George Floyd’s murder. But then I
found myself asking, “have we as a Nation become so desensitized and numb, and
has our capacity for shock and righteous anger become so dulled that this, this
unending witness to yet another black man’s murder is what it takes to get us
moving together to make a change?” Has
it all become some sort of grotesque theater, and have we become the audience
who can’t look away to the point that we do not leave our seats to get outside
and do something about it?
Then the
rallies and riots started. I am
supportive of the rallies, as many of you know after seeing me and some members
of this congregation standing in protest on Highway 1 last week with our Black
Lives Matter and No White Silence signs.
But I am scared of the riots. I
know that change will not come to our white supremacist culture easily and I
realize it’s going to be messy. Riots
are part of the messiness. Despite my fear, I am willing to live with the
messiness for change to happen. I just
think that there are ways to not provoke the riots.
It seems like no matter how peaceful the protests are during
the day, when night falls and curfews begin to be enforced, riots have
happened. In some places, the police
try to control the protesters with violence, hurling smoke bombs and shooting
rubber bullets, cutting people’s tires, tazing them, punching reporters with
their shields, escalating peaceful crowds of generally peaceful people to
violence. I’m not naïve, and neither are
you. I understand that these peaceful
protests have also attracted people whose goals are in direct opposition to the
goals of the majority of protesters.
Some are outsiders to the community, others are themselves members of
the community. It’s a tinderbox out
there; one person or a small group of people lights a match—throws a flash bomb
or a rock or a Molotov Cocktail—and suddenly everything bursts into flames.
Where is
the compassion? How much training have
the police had on how to handle situations like this? Have they been trained to de-escalate, engage,
connect with the African American people out there who dying from coronavirus,
who have for decades suffered from poverty and institutional racism?
Over my
years in counseling and ministry, I have had discussions about oppression and
racism with people of color. I have
talked with people who have returned from their stays in prison unable to
restart their lives; I’ve talked with those who have been pulled over by the
police again and again for “driving while Black”; I’ve talked with parents of
black children who tell me about the conversations they have to have with their
children to keep them safe and alive in a white supremacist culture; I’ve
talked with those who are homeless--who have found it virtually impossible to
get out of the cycle of homelessness without someone giving them a hand up, not
a hand out, a hand up. I have lent my
voice to them when I could to support their needs and causes. I worked with an organization in Chicago to
develop a program to equip people of color with effective skills in the event
they’re pulled over by police. And the
police were involved in this program.
People of color and police could see each other as human beings and
share their feelings with one another not only about the legal issues involved
with a traffic stop, but the fear and anxiety involved, on both sides.
We are all
just people. We’re just people trying to
find our way through change. We have all
been enculturated into a white supremacist system and some of us are trying to
find a way to change that. I have seen
police kneeling and praying with protestors this week, not just punching and
kicking and shoving. I have seen people
of color speaking out about what they want and need as these rallies have
continued. As their discernment begins, discussions
have started around defunding the police, demilitarizing the police, getting
police trained in de-escalation, and increasing police community
involvement. I have heard organizers
talking about getting rid of the prison-industrial complex. I have heard
discussions about how we all need to stop calling the police or at least stop
calling the police as a first resort instead of the last. What’s the alternative? Communities working together to deal with
situations themselves, or perhaps training communities to learn how to deal
with conflicts when they come up, before calling the police. Some of you might
think some of these ideas are radical or unrealistic but the time has come to
begin discussions, to understand what needs to change in our culture to make it
truly equitable. White people need to
first ask those most affected by racial inequity and injustice what they need.
White people need to withhold their judgments on the ideas that people of color
have they about meaningful solutions and effective directions even if it makes
white people uncomfortable.
At the
Unitarian Universalist Association, the UUA, vigil on Wednesday night, I heard
three ways to move forward to support the change that our culture is struggling
with as we try to decenter whiteness.
The ways suggested, in broad categories, are learning, acting, and
giving.
As Unitarian Universalists, many of
us are all about learning, reading, studying, talking about issues. But the learning I am talking about is more
than that. It is not only about reading
a book, like “White Fragility”; it is more than talking about that book
theoretically; it is about engaging with the message with heart and soul. It is about looking at our own personal
prejudices, fears, and behaviors that support this white supremacist culture
that we live in. It is about deciding
how we might change ourselves to help society change.
Acting is deciding what to do and
doing it. I posted an article on my
Facebook page from the UUA website that gives some ideas about how to decide on
action. The article is called “Risk,
Courage and Discernment: Spiritual Preparation”. It asks questions to aid in preparation and
discernment before taking a social justice action. Questions like: Is this action visionary and
reducing pain for people? Does this action have moral authority? Is this action
building my own and others capacity? What role have I been asked to play? Which
[of our forebears] (spiritual, family, social justice) have played this role?
How can I lean on their wisdom? How can I do right by their legacy? It asks us
to consider our privilege and access to stability, or lack thereof, in doing
this work. Reminding us the goal is always to fight another day, for this work
is not short-term.
I thought about these questions
Wednesday as members of our congregation were holding up Black Lives Matter
signs on Highway 1. So many people giving
us a thumbs up, waving or honking in support.
And finally giving. How do we use our resources to be change
agents in the world? Personally and as a congregation? How do we support Black Lives Unitarian
Universalist or DRUUMM, Diverse and Revolutionary Unitarian Universalists
Multicultural Ministry? How do we
support Black Lives Matter? These are
organizations doing work to dismantle racism and work to support decentering
whiteness in our denomination and in our culture.
After all I
have been experiencing this week, I revisited the questions in the story of
three questions by Tolstoy: When is the right time? Who are the right people?
What is the most important thing to do? I thought now is the time, you, the
members of this congregation, are the right people, and even while in
quarantine, even though it is summer, the most important thing to do is to
offer this congregation opportunities to grapple with racism. To be in alignment with the UUA’s antiracism
work is one of the developmental goals you have defined as important to this
congregation, that you have asked me to focus on while I am with you. It is time that I offer a space for this
congregation to discern ways we, individually and collectively, can be
radically compassionate, intentionally, equitably, and actively caring for
humans around us in need, particularly people of color and other marginalized groups.
In the newsletter you may have
noticed that I am inviting you to begin engaging in learning—by studying the
book “White Fragility”. My hope is that
by engaging with this book and others, that we can begin discerning action and
giving for the good of others, particularly people of color and other
marginalized groups who are being choked by the cultural norms of our white
supremacist culture.
You might think to yourself I
already know what to do to help, but my friends, pause for a moment. First, you
might take into consideration what people of color are suggesting. Look at the Black Lives Matter Action of the
Week or consider giving to the National Bail Fund Network to help those
essentially trapped in jail because they don’t have the money to get out. These
are actions that are being led by people of color.
Remember,
my friends, change in our culture ultimately will not come from white guilt, or
fear of riots, or anger and frustration over bad individuals in the police force. Change comes when we act from compassion,
when we gain insight, when we develop beloved community and engage with one
another about the difficult issues that are on our hearts, issues that society
needs to struggle with. This is that time for all of us to engage with those
issues. On the Blog The Fallon Forum written by American activist and author Ed
Fallon, I found this. Ed was talking
about the symbolism of the police taking a knee, and how that symbolism was
immensely important, but he was clear that symbolism isn’t enough. He wrote: “We all must commit to working
toward policy changes that shift the system away from the racism that has been
accepted or perpetrated by too many - even by ourselves. Equally, we must
commit to personal efforts that shift us toward… [seeing] each other’s
different cultures as part of what makes our society rich and beautiful, to
understand our differences even when we don’t agree with them, and to hold each
other up in love.” May it be so.
