Ahmaud Arbery.

Breonna Taylor.

Tony McDade.

Maurice Gordon.

Rayshard Brooks.

George Floyd.

Our altar grows all-too-crowded, even if we say names from Black Lives Matter was founded. All fellow people, Americans, neighbors, friends, family, children of God. All murdered by police. And all unwillingly martyred in the struggle against one of our nation鈥檚 original sins. Centuries worth of countless candles.

George Floyd.

Before moving to Seattle, I lived three blocks from where George was killed in Minneapolis.

When I heard, I joined my community from afar in anger, laying awake at night burning with it. 2,000 miles away, they took it onto the streets, soon joined by my community in Seattle and communities around the world in a sweeping, cleansing wildfire of global grief and outrage. A few people literally burned with their own fury 鈥� saboteurs with flames, police with tear gas. But our communities swiftly drowned out these acts of violence with acts of peace 鈥� civil disobedience, public meetings, policy proposals, neighborhood clean-ups.

We White folk can count on the Black community鈥檚 righteous anger remaining, as they try to prevent another trigger-finger taking of Black life by someone hired to protect and serve them. But can we White folk count on our own anger to stay kindled? As other stories overtake the headlines again, it is all too easy for us to let the fires of indignation snuff out. How do we sustain the anger that racial justice requires?

In the words of Civil Rights leader and long-time member of Congress, Rep. John Lewis, we now have to ignite our pilot lights. He says, in his epic chronicle of the Civil Rights movement Walking with the Wind:

鈥淧eople who are like fireworks, popping off right and left with lots of sound and sizzle, can capture a crowd, capture a lot of attention for a time, but I always have to ask, where will they be at the end? Some battles are long and hard, and you have to have staying power. Firecrackers go off in a flash, then leave nothing but ashes. I prefer a pilot light 鈥� the flame is nothing flashy, but once it is lit, it doesn鈥檛 go out. It burns steadily, and it burns forever.鈥�

How do we ignite our pilot lights?

Before the fireworks subside into the smoke of forgetting, we need to remember.

We need to remember that there are many already burning brightly in our world. Organizations like r and do much more than huge protests, which are costly actions of last resort. They mostly do the daily grind-work of shifting policy and culture, advancing concrete reform in municipalities nationwide, like those outlined by and . Then there are organizations like the , which has been doing this work for over a century.

We also need to remember other pilot lights of history, luminaries who can light our way now more than ever, reminding us of the continuity in the cause of racial justice. The elders of the Civil Rights Movement in particular have been helping me transmute my anger right now, infusing it with the hope it needs to keep burning. And despite the press that male leaders like John Lewis have gotten, these luminaries, like those who鈥檝e founded the organizations mentioned above, are, of course, mostly Black women.

Septima Clark, 鈥淢other of the Movement:鈥� Co-founder of the Citizenship and Highlander Folk Schools; NAACP and SCLC builder.

Fannie Lou Hamer: Co-founder of the Freedom Democratic Party and National Women鈥檚 Political Caucus; SNCC and SCLC builder.

Labor like theirs is too often overshadowed, now as it was then. In part that鈥檚 because while men, including anti-racist White men, are busy basking in the center-stage spotlight, these women have been busy actually building the theatre, intentionally eschewing traditions of hierarchy and celebrity. In their words:

Diane Nash: Co-founder of SNCC, the Freedom Riders, and the Alabama and Selma Voting Rights Projects; SCLC and CORE builder:

鈥淢y thought about leadership is more task-oriented. Somebody needs to keep up with the money, and account for it. Somebody needs to come into the meeting with an agenda, and to call on people. I think the kind of leadership that has to do with ego and being ordained the leader and staying the leader is deficient. I think movements should be issue-led, not personality-led.鈥�

Ella Baker: Mentor of the Civil Rights Movement, God-Mother of SNCC; NAACP, SCLC, and SCEF builder.:鈥淵ou didn’t see me on television, you didn’t see news stories about me. The kind of role that I tried to play was to pick up pieces or put together pieces out of which I hoped organization might come. My theory is, strong people don’t need strong leaders.鈥�

Their ethos of building rather than 鈥渓eading鈥� lives on 鈥� the more recently-founded initiatives above like BLM explicitly carry the torch of the Mothers鈥� legacy. I find my own fire stoked by their emphasis on relationship, democracy, and sustainability, their invocation of our wise women elders. We can and must trust them with, and thank them for, our progress.

We need to remember that with their guidance, we have indeed progressed, and that we can further. But we need to remember too that we have not yet reached what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. called the 鈥減romised land of racial justice.鈥� In many ways we still struggle now for what they struggled then. They too were and on the vigil altar. Ella Baker reminds us:

鈥淯ntil the killing of black men, black mothers’ sons, becomes as important to the rest of the country as the killing of a white mother’s son, we who believe in freedom cannot rest until this happens.鈥�

鈥淩emember, we are not fighting for the freedom of the Negro alone, but for the freedom of the human spirit, a larger freedom that encompasses all mankind.鈥�

Now, there may be those of us, or others who we know, who though lauding this vision, criticize or misunderstand the means for carrying it out: direct action 鈥� protest that is peaceful and also confrontational. There are words to be remembered in this regard as well. And though we must continue to prioritize listening for the voices of Black women, I must now urge you to read the , which rings as true now as the day Dr. King first wrote it. He challenges all of us white folk, who too often oppose racism from a comfortable distance, to step into the 鈥渃onstructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth鈥� and be 鈥渆xtremists for love.鈥�

So, fellow white folk, what does this look like in practice?

On social media, you might hear about only two modes of action, both fireworks:

1. Getting out in the streets or

2. Getting into a gladiatorial debate or onto a soapbox on social media.

Maybe your flame is still crackling and these seem like the right tactics for you right now. Personally I鈥檒l encourage #1 as long as the builders do.

As far as #2, I believe we need (and want) a reality check on our social media use. What would the Mothers鈥� say about our vortex culture? I think they鈥檇 say something like: if it isn鈥檛 building, it isn鈥檛 working. We are becoming more , and more as it exacerbates this process. It siphons the time and energy 鈥� and damages the relationships 鈥� we need to work proactively for justice in the real world. If you鈥檙e seeing the ashes of relational slash and burn and scorched earth, if your echo chamber is shrinking or erupting with vitriol, that鈥檚 a sign the fireworks need a rest. Time to ignite the pilot lights, including but not limited to:

1. leading racial justice work.

2. Having actual conversations with fellow white folk offline.

Who benefits from our burning bridges? Who benefits from our virtue-signaling? Maybe our egos in the short-term. But in the long-term, we are only stymying the conversations we White folk need to be having with each other about racial justice. So instead, what if we sought exchange and quality over quantity in our conversations? What if we took them offline, calling people on the phone the old-fashioned way, reallocating the hour spent on Facebook diatribes and back-patting to an hour of nonviolent communication? As the Mothers remind us, commitment to relationship is the only proven path to transformation. That鈥檚 what moves opinions, then votes, then mountains, and ripples into tidal waves.

3. Doing our soul-work around race and racism.

And the most important relationship on this path is the one we each have with our very own souls. Many fellow white folk are speaking up about this, imploring us to own up to our privilege and silence. But any public demonstration in this regard is meaningless if we aren鈥檛 doing the private legwork that truly transformative activism requires. Yes, is another outlet for growing in awareness. But this too is meaningless if we don鈥檛 let awareness steep in our hearts.

We need to journal and pray and wander in the wilderness with the hard truths and questions. And yes, we must own our consistent failures and the consistent failures of white Western monoculture. But we must also own a vision for something better, in ourselves and in the world. Indeed, singing about salvation will draw in countless more people than just sermonizing about sin.

So let us imagine: What might that elusive 鈥減romised land of racial justice鈥� and 鈥渓arger freedom鈥� look like? What healing and wholeness do our White folk souls have to gain there? Is there anything of ourselves and our ancestral European/American cultures that can aid us on the journey? These wrestlings will help us engage most constructively in the conversations and action needed to bring more white folk into the struggle. These wrestlings will keep us burning and in reciprocal relationship with BIPOC folk.

Lastly, we need to remember to keep saying the names of our fellow children of God, and keep the candles lit.

When the Vietnam War Memorial was installed in Washington, DC, it was proposed that politicians should meet there every time a declaration of war was on the table, and be forced to read aloud the 58,000 names etched into its polished black walls. Their wailing alone would prevent them from sending another mother鈥檚 child to die.

So it goes with the names of the Mothers鈥� children at our vigil altar 鈥� the memorial dedicated to the preservation of Black life, to the struggle for racial justice. May we continue to say their names, until politicians and police and protesters alike lay weapons down and wail together. Indeed, our anger is doomed to ashes if we do not also embrace sorrow.

Ahmaud Arbery.

Breonna Taylor.

Tony McDade.

Maurice Gordon.

Rayshard Brooks.

George Floyd.

May we keep bringing our pilot lights back to their candles.

The post Igniting the Pilot Lights: How White Folks Can Respond to Racial Injustice appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

Maybe you鈥檝e just begun your time in Seattle or at the School, and are facing our Winter 鈥� and shedding your leaves of identity 鈥� for the first time here. Maybe you鈥檝e heard tell of our relentless rains, but you鈥檙e now finding the shell you own isn鈥檛 in fact as leak-proof as you thought, that you鈥檙e taking on more water and sooner than you ever imagined, frantically
battening down the hatches.

Or maybe you鈥檙e midway through your studies. You鈥檙e no longer a stranger to the inevitable darkness, but feeling it in your bones with a new heaviness, weighing down under it even as you need to run some gloomy gauntlet, unable to imagine the dawn of a spring graduation ever appearing on the horizon.

Or maybe you鈥檙e a Seattle and 天美视频 veteran. You鈥檙e hoisting your collar against the crisping wind, layering linings against the seeping damp, cocooning yourself in comfort, but still unable to escape the question that gnaws like frost: why you linger at a latitude of months-long sleet and twilight. Or maybe like most Cascadian born-and-bred, you鈥檝e actually grown fond of Winter here after all these years.

After living here for 3 years, I find my own disposition somewhere in between these two 鈥� sometimes dreading the dreariness, disruption, and doom of Winter, but more and more able to welcome it. This heartening in me is partly just the fruit of experiencing the tread of time though multiple cyclings of seasons, seeing them shift every year just as surely into Spring as they did into Winter. But it鈥檚 also a product of practices learned in an aspiration to embrace the movements of Nature, a simple strategy crafted of equal parts effort and equanimity. (And a dash of unabashed and indulgent alliteration, if you haven鈥檛 noticed already.)

Embracing the cold is a matter of mustering the gumption to venture boldly into Winter鈥檚 gusts. Of pressing on with a needed walk or run or bike ride in spite of the elements, using exercise to fuel your body鈥檚 natural furnaces, so you can lean into the chill wind and dampness. Of sailing with them come what may.

And it鈥檚 also a matter of making frequent berths at cozy ports of call, of which the 天美视频 will always be one, thanks to the unsinkable mirth and merriment of fellow students, faculty, and staff. Each thawing person is always a reminder that the cold does indeed end.

Embracing the darkness is a matter of, despite the drudgery or disdain, entertaining the truth in what may feel threadbare maxims: trust the Spirit, trust the process, trust that we will crest out of the valley of night into a breaking day, that beyond the mountains of shadow are sunlit pastures, that Winter accedes to Spring鈥檚 flowering.

And it鈥檚 also a matter of forsaking Winter鈥檚 clouded and concrete landscapes for woodlands and wilderness, forsaking gray canopies for green. Here brushes of moss-chartreuse and cedar-ochre flourish for those willing to get close enough to touch the artwork. Here fermenting memories of fallen leaves and branches nourish the roots of their origin. There are many such gardens and groves even within the four corners in the city: northerly Woodland Park with its old-growth elders, southerly Seward Park with its contemplative coastlines, the easterly Arboretum with its Pan-Pacific panoply, the westerly Me-Kwa-Mooks Park with its hillside secrets. Each green place is always a reminder that it is a veil and not a wall separating life and death 鈥� and that it is natural that we, like so many others of God鈥檚 children of the Earth, hibernate in between these two ways of being in accordance with the seasons. Each green place is always a reminder that the darkness does indeed end, or at least hibernates peacefully.

And embracing the rain is a matter of remembering that, again like all God鈥檚 creatures, we are born and made of the waters. And so we can remember how to swim 鈥� if we only let sinking ships sink, not going down with them, but letting them find rest among the reefs, and coming back in our time to dive for their treasures.

And it鈥檚 also a matter of letting the tides in their time carry us as they always do to dry land, a new continent where people have been calling our names out to the stormy sea, praying that it delivers us to this hopeful home. Here we will remember that, with each Spring, the new leaves of iterated identity emerge even healthier than the old leaves. Here we will remember that those pieces we have shed retain their own beauty, and fall to feed our new growth. Here we will remember that, again like all the Spirit鈥檚 creatures, we are born and made of fresh clay, and so, ashore, can walk again.

This birthing and making Spirit knows 鈥� is 鈥� both sea and land, both treasured ship and treasured reef, both the calling from the shore and the delivering tide, both the storm and the rainbow reminder that 鈥� always, even in Winter 鈥� the rain does indeed end. This Spirit welcomes our dread of the dreariness, disruption, and doom, even while it welcomes, and helps us welcome, Winter.

The post Welcoming Winter appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.