We choose.
We choose how we see the world.
I’m well aware that in our early lives, we are greatly influenced by our caregivers in our vision and interpretation of the world. Often we hear the love and insights of our caregivers as a quid pro quo, you know, they will love me if I see the world as they do.
But, time and life experience offers us other perspectives. Sometimes we stick close to our ideological homes and at other times we venture out into the great unknown to hear other voices and see the world through others’ eyes. Sometimes this exploration leads to the student returning from college to express something that is uncomfortable for the parents. For me, it was when I wondered aloud if we had African-American blood in our lineage. That and a few other things over the years.
The students in the divinity school that I attended were required to take a class entitled Black Church Studies. I pushed and pulled in the class, once meeting with the professor to challenge the lack of historicity of the subject matter. I had, after all, graduated with a degree in history! He was patient and gave me my space. I am grateful for my experience and the ways that the class challenged my understandings and prejudices. I came away with many facts and challenges to my perceptions but one main learning.
When it comes to Black Church Studies, I don’t know much.
Same with black folks.
What I do know is that I choose how to see and understand the plights of other cultures and people in general.
I have been remembering these things as I have witnessed our towns and cities going up in flames. Many of the responses that I have read and heard mirror both the ones that I heard when our country burned in 1968 and the prejudice and bigotry of my childhood and youth.
People are choosing to view it as they do.
“How dare they burn down our cities? Don’t they know that they are just hurting themselves?”
“After all that we have done for them and they do this!”
“I’m not racist. I have friends who are (pick your group)”
“Why can’t they be peaceful? I could support them if they were.”
“Martin Luther King wasn’t violent and look what he accomplished.”
“That’s just how they deal with things in their ‘hoods’.”
“If they would get up and get a job, they wouldn’t have time for this.”
I have seen again many of the images that pop up in times of unrest, you know, the black guy with his pants too low who is stealing a television. A black person attacking a police officer. An officer beating a protester. Images that are caricatures, images of the worst.
We choose our perspective.
I have heard the laments, too. And they always come back to how we are being inconvenienced and/or threatened by the black community.
“They want more than we have. I don’t have as much as they want!”
This week another black man was murdered by a white police officer. What followed was a loud and vivid response. George Floyd’s death was significant in itself but has come to mean so much more. It is not just his death, but a flash-point that set off protests, some violent. These violent protests have led to great laments and emotional hand-wringing. We can choose how we see these protests and those who participate.
We can choose.
For instance, the protesters have been called many things. The one that I see the most is “thugs”. The protests have been identified as challenges to civil society. Each denigrates and I can see both of these, but I choose a different route.
I hear voices that have been silenced too long, oppressed by the status quo. These are not protests of and for the twenty-first century. We are witnessing the next part of the protests of the 1960s. They are a continuation, not some new manifestation. They exist because we did not hear the voices clearly then, but chose to placate and pacify rather than to deal honestly with the injustices that the protesters of that generation brought to us. We did not work with them to make a just society.
This isn’t just about their inappropriate behavior. It is about our lack of support for justice. It is about our refusal to deal honestly with the leaders of that time and instead, idolize people like Dr. King. Rather than internalize his teachings and allow them to change our society, we put him on a pedestal. A very safe pedestal. Other leaders we denigrated.
This is why I choose to see this differently. Not “thugs”. Not black racists. Not a threat to civil society.
Rather, a voice crying in the wilderness. “Prepare the way of the Lord.” Prepare a way of justice and peace. Voices that loudly proclaim that the stuff that is not part of their life is irrelevant in the face of great injustice. Let it burn. Hear us out. Work for justice.
I can choose to see it this way or I can choose any other way. It is a privilege that I have. You get this? My choice is the result of my being privileged.
Those who are not part of the privileged group have limited choices. Ask George Floyd, those arrested for driving while black and the many others.
But, the voices have to cry out. They cannot be silent any longer. They are afraid that if they live silent, they will die silent. They have decided that they cannot go this route. They shouldn’t go this route.
They have chosen.
There are other stories, too. A sheriff who put down his baton and when asked, joined the protesters. A group of officers who prayed with the protesters. Others in authority who are unwilling to be the enemy but to appropriately engage, listen and strive to understand. People who are willing to look beyond the caricatures and see the hearts and hopes of the oppressed. And others who are willing to see that not all authorities are bad.
To be open to hear and learn that they don’t know what it is like to not be part of privileged society. Even though they may not initially understand.
Wonderful first steps. They invite us to consider our responses. Do we have the courage to put down our batons? Can we choose to see what is happening in a way that will bring lasting change to our society and lead us into a place of justice and peace? How will we respond to the prophets’ voice?
What if we took down our barriers? What if we choose to “strive for justice and peace”? What if we begin by listening and looking each other in the eye?
What if? Maybe this is not a question but an exclamation.
What if!
We can bring about a just society.
We can.
If we choose.