A Pastoral Letter

My sisters and brothers,

Today we will again renew our baptismal vows.  In doing so we will reply, “I will, with God’s help” to the fifth and final question of our Baptismal Covenant: Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

It is a promise, that in my own privilege, I know I far too often fail to keep.

And so does the Church.

And so does our nation.

While most of us are pleased to pledge our support to the idea of peace, many of us, myself included, shy away from the complex and costly work of justice.

Our unwillingness to strive for justice among all people has placed the heavy burden of oppression on the Black community.  Our black sisters and brothers have, for far too long, carried the weight of a history of dehumanization and inhumane treatment – slavery, lynching trees, segregation, and now a growing list of names that have become hashtags, victims of a violent and racist system that values some lives far more than others.  It is a stark reminder that justice is still a fleeting dream, a sad reminder that the dream of God has not yet been realized.

We are being invited to share the seasoned generational grief of our nation’s black community.  For far too long we have disregarded black voices, marginalized pleas for justice, failed to respect the dignity of our African-American siblings.  Because we don’t want to admit our own privilege, or because we are insecure or unwilling to face our own complicity.  Because we are uncomfortable sitting quietly with the emotions expressed by those who are pained by racist institutions and killed by unjust systems: heart-break and hopelessness, frustration and anger.

I try imagine what it must be like to never again hug your son because he went jogging with dark skin – how I would never stop crying tears of pain and sadness and rage.  But that is not something I have to worry about because my sons have white skin. 

My sister, she does worry about that.  Her husband, my brother-in-law, is black.  And so are her two sons, my nephews.  Those two precious brown boys live in a world my sons will never know.  They are in elementary school.  But one day they will be black teens and then black men.  And people will call them thugs, will hate them, no matter how smart and successful they are because of the color of their skin. 

My sister has to teach them survival skills: like be careful jogging in white neighborhoods, do not argue if you get pulled over for speeding, don’t wear your hood up.  She has seen the videos and so she will know worries that I will never know.  She knows what white people think about the black men in her family.  They tell her.  They say terrible, racist things to her, sometimes in reference to her own husband and children – because she is white and so they assume she feels the same, harbors the same hatred. 

The pain is deep.  Because the trauma never seems to let up.  There are no easy solutions.  There is no quick fix.  And I feel sad and frustrated and helpless.  I feel ashamed at my own racism.  I want to be a part of a better future.  I want to keep my promise to strive for justice and peace.  But I’m not sure what to do.  Perhaps you feel the same.

And so for now, I am going to listen to black voices – without defending myself, without trying to justify my thoughts and actions.

Yesterday on social media, former First Lady, Michelle Obama wrote, “Like so many of you, I’m pained by these recent tragedies. And I’m exhausted by a heartbreak that never seems to stop. Right now it’s George, Breonna, and Ahmaud. Before that it was Eric, Sandra, and Michael. It just goes on, and on, and on.

Race and racism is a reality that so many of us grow up learning to just deal with. But if we ever hope to move past it, it can’t just be on people of color to deal with it. It’s up to all of us—Black, white, everyone—no matter how well-meaning we think we might be, to do the honest, uncomfortable work of rooting it out.

It starts with self-examination and listening to those whose lives are different from our own. It ends with justice, compassion, and empathy that manifests in our lives and on our streets. I pray we all have the strength for that journey, just as I pray for the souls and the families of those who were taken from us.”

I am listening to that.

Presiding Bishop Curry wrote today, “Our nation’s heart breaks right now because we have strayed far from the path of love. Because love does not look like one man’s knee on another man’s neck, crushing the God-given life out of him. This is callous disregard for the life of another human being, shown in the willingness to snuff it out brutally as the unarmed victim pleads for mercy…. Violence against any person is violence against a child of God, created in God’s image. And that ultimately is violence against God, which is blasphemy — the denial of the God whose love is the root of genuine justice and true human dignity and equality…. Love does not look like the silence and complicity of too many of us, who wish more for tranquility than justice…. Love looks like all of us — people of every race and religion and national origin and political affiliation — standing up and saying “Enough! We can do better than this. We can be better than this.”

I’m listening to that.

White people, we need to listen.  We need to sit with the discomfort.  To hear the pain and anger and sadness that our black sisters and brothers have been long trying to convince us to hear.  To confess that we have too often failed to keep that fifth and final baptismal promise.  To admit that we have to do better, be better.  We have to love better.

Yesterday, during Morning Prayer we prayed this prayer from our prayer book, a prayer for the oppressed.  I invite you to pray with me now.

Look with pity, O heavenly Father, upon the people in this land who live with injustice, terror, disease, and death as their constant companions. Have mercy upon us. Help us to eliminate our cruelty to these our neighbors. Strengthen those who spend their lives establishing equal protection of the law and equal opportunities for all. And grant that every one of us may enjoy a fair portion of the riches of this land; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.