In these spaces of fear, we鈥檙e often less able to access our active practices of filtering our biases and choosing to act differently鈥攍eading to harm, most often of our Black and Brown community members. In the last few weeks in June, we鈥檝e seen anti-Asian assaults in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle and white supremacist propaganda posted in Seattle鈥檚 Chinatown and International District. We鈥檝e watched in horror the high profile lynchings in the form of police and vigilante killings of Black folks in Minnesota, Georgia, Florida, Washington, and undoubtedly more places before this piece is published. We鈥檝e seen the less publicized police killing of Black first responder Breonna Taylor when police broke into her home in Louisville, KY. And we鈥檝e heard reports of the devastatingly disproportionate toll of Covid19 among the Navajo Nation. And undoubtedly, between when this is written and published, there will be more names of people harmed鈥攕ome we will learn and more will never be published because the events aren鈥檛 filmed.

While we鈥檙e stuck at home glued to our digital windows to the world, many of us may become more acutely aware of acts of violence that have been happening all along. Under our current load of fear and stress, these traumas each have their own particular impact, but they also have a cumulative impact on each of us鈥攁nd most of all on those who see your own faces reflected in these particular victims and who live under this every day.

And I am a white man working at 天美视频, where our mission is: 鈥渢o train people to be competent in the study of text, soul, and culture in order to serve God and neighbor through transforming relationships.鈥� In the past months, I鈥檝e sat in Zoom meetings with students, alumni, staff, and faculty of this majority-white聽institution, and I have heard story after story from people of color about the impact of this season of isolation and visible violence, as well as specific experiences of discrimination, violence, silence, and pain.

Racism is a primordial wound on the heart of our culture and it touches us all. It is a sin that cuts in so many directions鈥攙ictims, perpetrators, bystanders, and descendants. And as I seek to understand my role in all this, and my turn of repentance, to love God and my neighbors, I am drawn back into wisdom from the Biblical texts.

In the story of Israel, God set in place cities of refuge鈥攑laces where people could flee from reckless vengeance killings. These towns were also set aside as the homes of the Levites, the priestly clan. The Jewish Talmud offers deeper understanding about the teachings on these places of refuge. Requirements are outlined: these cannot be large cities or small towns, and they must have a water source. If there is no water source, a well or a canal must be dug. The roadways into these cities must be twice the standard width of the highways going in and out of the largest cities. And every intersection leading toward these cities must be clearly marked.

In short, it was never sufficient to name a place as a city of refuge. The lasting work had to be put in, in order for it to be a legitimate place of hospitality for those in danger of violence. As much as I long to call myself a person who is anti-racist, is so much more than that. This language from the Talmud changes the way that I hear the gospel message preached by John: 鈥淧repare the way of the Lord and make straight paths for him.鈥�

And it changes the way that I read Isaiah 40:3-5:

A voice of one calling:
鈥淚n the wilderness prepare
the way for the Lord;
make straight in the desert
a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be raised up,
every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level,
the rugged places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord will be revealed,
and all people will see it together.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.鈥�

Last week, our community prayed this passage alongside . He gives voice to the ache and longing for justice present in this passage and in the Black community. As I listen to his voice I am reminded that there is no good news to the gospel of Jesus if it does not bring loving justice to our world.

In my own life as a white man, and in my work in 天美视频 community, it is not enough to be aware of violence. And it is not enough to name myself an ally. In order to credibly love my neighbors, I must join in the lament of my siblings in pain, and even more, we must together continue to do the mundane and invisible work of creating and maintaining access ways, and sources of life for Black, Brown and Native people in our communities. And as a white man, I must enter my own lament. My own source of life is cut off by racism when I do not engage in this justice work, where I myself am often the worker who joins late in the day.

In my particular work at 天美视频 this looks like grieving and strategizing with students; implementing and revisiting equity strategies as we distribute Covid19 benevolence funds; from the beginning, addressing racial and socioeconomic disparities as we lead workshops on self-care for ongoing trauma; and daily making space in our community rhythms of prayer to hold grief and explore our own work in justice building. It also means showing up in my own community鈥攄emanding justice and accountability for Stonechild Chiefstick, a Native man killed by police who have gone uncharged in my county last year, and for Bennie Branch and Manuel Ellis, both Black men killed by police in nearby Tacoma. And it means listening when my Black neighbor speaks about her fear for her teenager鈥檚 life, and doing work with our local police to ensure that this child is safe in our shared community.

None of these things give me or 天美视频 the right to label ourselves a place of refuge. Instead, they are some of the daily practices we engage relationally and, in so doing, are ourselves being transformed. We have the blessing of not being a monolith. And while we are a majority white learning community, we are also a multi-ethnic, multi-racial, and multicultural community that continues to be shaped and led by one another. To be a place of refuge, dialogue, and repair in our society, we must be engaged in this work as a daily spiritual practice, inviting our souls, our economics, our politics, and our relationships to be contoured to the Spirit of God at work in the world.

This past Sunday, Christians celebrated the feast of Pentecost. Humanity has always been in need of God鈥檚 flames uniting us with all people in love and justice. The fires across USAmerica are calling out for love and justice for Black bodies in our nation. I believe that the Spirit needs us to be people whose lives are marked by doing the work that creates justice and peace.

As a school, we can never really be a permanent city of refuge, but we can be a place along the way where people join with God and learn from one another about how to build such places together in our homes and congregations; nonprofits and friend groups; therapy offices and neighborhoods. As a white person, a huge part of my learning is listening and bearing wit(h)ness, and another huge part is consistently acting, speaking, and sharing in this blessed work, especially when society privileges me in such a way that I could choose to simply check out and reap the benefits handed to me because of my white skin.

This is important, holy work. And it is important work to talk about together. As wrong as it is to put up signposts pointing to places that are not actual refuge, it is also crucial to illuminate the pathways where work really is being done. This both opens us up for accountability and brings us into dialogue with those who have much to teach us. There is not a 鈥渞ight鈥� way for white folks to do this work and come out looking good. We must move into it making mistakes and repenting all along the way. Some may experience this as a deterrent, but for those who receive it as the blessing it is, it is a way forward into sharing the weighty blessing of Pentecost.

One of the gifts of working in a place where psychology and theology intersect, is that while therapeutic changes often happen confidentially behind closed doors, the world of communities of faith are rich with public symbols and places to both contain and display communal grief and repair. Here, in the work of racial justice, we need both of these together. We need deep, internal, and interpersonal work. And we need communal and symbolic actions that disrupt oppression and create structure for cultural change.

May we join with the Spirit to create spaces of refuge and repair in our neighborhoods and in our world.

The post Stewarding My Own Whiteness in the Work for Justice appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

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.

While our bodies and souls ache with the recent abuses of power, we also recognize them as the most recent manifestation of a system that is older than our country. Our collective healing is tied to repentance and to the dismantling of systemic injustice and fear that continues to horrifically terrorize and target Black and Brown bodies. The work before us is immense, urgent, and important.

Faith communities have a vital role in cultural transformation. Churches are a source for many of us to discern God鈥檚 hopes for humanity, to align our desire with God鈥檚, and to reorient ourselves towards the pursuit of that vision.

We are aware that, although we long for more diversity, 天美视频 community is predominantly white. With that in mind, we compiled resources for churches that are predominantly white to engage race, no matter where they are in the conversation. In this era, perhaps churches can join not only the lament of the oppressed, and also make active progress towards the invitation to justice and peace.

Starting Places for Small Group Discussion

Articles

鈥�,鈥� from Women of the ELCA, is an 11-page guide for a process and tools for race conversations.

For a leadership team, 鈥�,鈥� adapted by Scott Winn. This document names components of dominant culture that are often invisible to those who live in it; it points out the air we breathe. Where do these components feel true of your congregation鈥檚 culture? What other options might you cultivate? Follow-up with 鈥�,鈥� adapted by Partners for Collaborative Change.

Books

has anti-racism reading lists for , , , and .

, by Resmaa Menakem. He addresses three audiences concurrently: white people, black/brown people, and law enforcement officers. For each, he not only teaches theory but also guides through practices for healing our bodies in order to heal relationships and communities.

by Adrian Pei illustrates examples of white supremacy and racism through leadership in a ministry setting. Recommended for use with a leadership team.

by Jemar Tisby addresses the American Church鈥檚 complicity in racism by examining the history of Christianity in the United States.

Videos & Movies

BlacKkKlansman is not only entertaining, its characters provide multiple entry points into conversations on race, culture, and law enforcement.

In addition to the book, The Color of Compromise by Jemar Tisby is also a.

Trainings and Experiences

, from The United Church of Christ, is a free, downloadable curriculum for white faith communities wishing to “engage in safe, meaningful, substantive, and bold conversations on race.鈥�

provides culturally relevant professional development, keynotes, consulting, coaching and one-on-one diversity leadership support to organizations committed to improving their ability to work effectively across cultures.

exists to establish healthy multiethnic, economically diverse, socially just churches.

facilitates conversations and trainings for congregations to address race issues within the community.

When travel re-opens, consider a group pilgrimage to the in Montgomery, Alabama. Dr. J. Derek McNeil writes about his experience here.

Resources for Children & Youth Engagement

has resources to inform children about race, including , , , , and .

Theologies and Frameworks for Pastors

Videos

Dr. Soong-Chan Rah on , and the following .

Dr. Angela Parker (former professor at 天美视频) on , and calling us to resist being a chaplain of the empire.

In their final year of school, students in our Master of Arts in Theology & Culture and Master of Divinity programs create an integrative project 鈥� our version of a master鈥檚 thesis. Some of this year鈥檚 projects are on:

• (links go to 10-minute video presentations of their work)

Relevant projects from previous years include:

Alumni gather annually in Symposia to share what they鈥檝e learned while 鈥渟erving God and neighbor through transforming relationships鈥� in 20-minute presentations. Relevant topics:

• Redeeming Identity in a Rapidly Changing Context

Books, Articles, and Lists

We curated this list of theologians and women of color who are at the forefront of conversations about womanist theology, gender, feminism, and race in the church.

by James Cone marries practical theology and social justice work.

by Linda Royster, identifying Christ as the 鈥渟uffocating Son of Man,鈥� present with those whose breath is cut off at the hands of government systems.

Because law enforcement disproportionately kills African-Americans, and addressing that discrepancy is an urgent need, these resources are largely about the Black experience. We recognize that healing must also be done with Native, Latin American, and Asian American bodies, history, and culture, perhaps especially here in the Pacific Northwest. Because we know our community is primarily white, and because it is white people鈥檚 fear that puts black and brown bodies in danger, these resources also discuss white identity and show white bodies doing the work of engaging race.

We recognize that this is not a comprehensive list of resources. Send an email to submissions@theseattleschool.edu to let us know what you would add.聽

The post Anti-Racism Resources for White-Majority Churches appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

This, of course, is not the first time I have been overwhelmed with grief as I mourn the senseless deaths of black men and women. One moment comes to my mind quite poignantly, as it links the past and the present. In 2015, I traveled with my wife to Montgomery, Alabama to be in conversations with a mixed-race group about racial trauma and incarceration. One afternoon we were asked to travel to the site of a lynching in Elmore County in the town of Wetumpka that occurred on June 17th, 1898. I found myself overcome with grief, on my knees in the dirt filling two-gallon jars with the brown and grey clay of Alabama soil. We filled four jars, each stenciled with a name, a city, and a date. The names belonged to the four black men lynched together that day.聽

A hundred and seventeen years later, we had traveled to Wetumpka, Alabama to remember and honor these men whose lives were taken for unknown reasons. The remembering of these men was both an act of defiance and reverence, linking them to us, as we sang, prayed, and cried for Ham Thompson, Reese Thompson, Louis Spier, and Solomon Jackson.聽

Those four names are joined by more each day, and were preceded by millions before them. The names stretch out and feel endless as we attempt to remember them, know their lives, and honor their stories…Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, and George Floyd.

As someone who studies change, I know that some change can only come from disruption and disorder. While I do not condone or support violent expressions, I understand the need to re-affirm that the killings must stop. I was struck by the words of Max Bailey, a protester in Denver: 鈥淚f you can tell me something better for me to do鈥攊f you can tell me a way that we could change the world without trying to make noise like that, then I鈥檒l get out of the streets鈥� (CNN, Madeline Holcomb, 2020).

The tragedy is that we have yet to find the ways to make for justice and peace. None of us鈥攃onservative, progressive, or anywhere in between鈥攃an fully answer the question of how to find justice and peace for a nation toiling with its original sin of slavery.聽

To call for peace without justice mutes the message of Jesus, decontextualizing the violence his body suffered and abstracting the tree he hung on, cheapens grace. Our hope is not in that Jesus escaped the humiliation, torture, and death, but that his death wasn鈥檛 the end of the story. Death will not be the end of our story.

Now, we have hard work in front of us. As a nation, we are at a crossroads. The status of our mistrust and divisions will tear us apart and we will not recover. This society will not hold together through coercion nor anarchy, but only through the rebuilding of trust. This means enemies must begin to hear truths from each other, and consistent action must be taken to lower the threat of harm to each other. There must be those who hold the center ground, those who can mediate a different relationship, those who can help us see past the splitting, those who offer a different love. We must be those who hear the gospel of Jesus as both a message of justice and grace.

We know that justice is not ultimately found in the streets. This is about being heard and being tired in the worst expressions of our trauma and rage.

The system will only change with the engagement of former combatants, those who believe that their very existence is linked together.聽

When I came to this little school, my hope was that we would come to see our mission as more than training people to be therapists, pastors, social entrepreneurs, and artists. My hope was that we might learn to equip people to become agents of change鈥攍eaders in a movement through transforming relationships and mending society. My hope is that we might train people to serve others in healing their trauma鈥攏ot just from their own life and story, but the generational trauma carried in and between their bodies. I believe in this mission and have hope for the mending and re-weaving of the fabric of society.聽

This is an extension of our mission into the world: serving God and neighbor through transforming relationships.聽

May we be people of faith who do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. May our prayers not only be words鈥攎ay our prayers move into our hands and feet in service to our neighbor. May our cries for justice extend into our relationships and the fabric of our communities.聽

The post The Work Ahead of Us: Addressing Racial Trauma and Systemic Injustices appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.