Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,
I spent time this morning with a knot of mourners, reporters, onlookers, and protesters in front of the Governor’s mansion for a press conference following the tragic and incomprehensible shooting of Philando Castile. I went because I didn’t think sitting in solitary prayer was enough. I went because I needed to move my feet and my body into proximity with the grief of my community – I needed to hear the lament, to absorb the anger, to let my breaking heart be with others whose hearts were smashed to smithereens. I went because I was disturbed and angry and sick to my stomach. I went, because going somewhere, doing something, doing anything at all, helped to lessen the growing knot of despair. There have been too many similar such press conferences and protests. There have been too many people of color whose lives were cut short without due process. One is too many. We are well beyond one.
And, yet, we in the white community have sat comfortably by, letting the victims be tried in the court of public opinion. We have waited to see if this one or that one really “deserved” their death sentence, deserved to be shot in cold blood in front of their loved ones, their bodies left on display like animals in the street. We have taken the luxury, the privilege, of equivocating on the behalf of the dead – well, if they had only obeyed the law, or complied with the officer’s commands, or…or what? If they had not been driving while black…?!? We have allowed ourselves to be lulled into complacency. Like so many issues that vex our world, the issues of police brutality, systemic racism, and injustice are complex and do not always yield to simple explanation – and we are tempted again and again to retreat into inaction. But, we cannot and we must not succumb to despair, complacency, and the sin of inaction. We must move our bodies, like living prayers, into action. Like Jesus, we must move into the neighborhood of suffering, we must place our own bodies into closer proximity with those who daily suffer injustice.
Not long ago I was at a community meeting aimed at addressing the so-called achievement gap in St. Paul. I was struck by the absence of white folks in the room. The impression was given that the achievement gap was a problem that only affected or impacted the black community. Sadly, that is often the impression one hears in the wake of yet another African American shot by police – that its a problem that happens in the “black community”. At the press conference today, in an attempt to express his solidarity and grief with the Castile family, our governor, Mark Dayton argued that this shooting does not reflect who we are in Minnesota. He was quickly shouted down by many in the crowd who aptly pointed out, that for them, the experience of police brutality and harassment ARE the experience of living in Minnesota. Sadly, this is, in part, who we are. We must come to grips with that. We must face the ugliness of racism and injustice that are a part of our way of life.
Perhaps more than anything, that’s what the shooting of Philando Castile brings home for me. Philando graduated high school from Central. He worked here in the public school system. He was known and loved by the children of our community. He was a colleague. He was a neighbor. He was a friend to folks that you know and I know. For once, the fatal shooting of someone whose only crime appears to have been driving while black, happened not in some other place, in the “black community”, far removed from our leafy suburbs and quiet neighborhoods – this happened in OUR community. The death of Philando Castile brings into focus the thing that should be painfully evident in every instance of police brutality and racial injustice – these things are always happening in the midst of our communities and our cities, to our neighbors, and our fellow citizens. White privilege may allow us to keep the suffering at a distance. That privilege may allow us to ignore or explain away or deny. But, when we move out from behind our privilege, when we actively confess it as sin, and seek to dismantle its effects, then we might see that those who are suffering are our neighbors and friends and colleagues – they are our brothers and sisters.
So, I’m going to daily try to confess my privilege, and work to dismantle it as best I can, and I will do my best to move into the neighborhood of suffering. It isn’t the courageous thing to do – its the honest thing. For me, that will mean speaking up, demanding justice from my elected leaders. For me that will mean having honest conversations and confronting the lies of racism whenever they cross my path. For me, that will mean committing to join my brothers and sisters of color in working for justice however I can. I hope you will join me.
Faithfully,
Jered+
