written by Darren Faber
A Prayer Attributed to St. Francis
Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? 47 And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” - Matthew 5:43-48
I am Racist (And you may be too)
No matter where you stand in relation to the political or economic divide, one thing should be clear- inequality is a pervasive problem, both in Greensboro, and throughout the United States. We hear the tag lines, usually coming from the left, about issues of mass incarceration, income inequality, and educational inequality, and we usually have some sort of visceral reaction to these words. Our opinions on the issues come ready formed, finding their source in our ingrained ideological orientation, connected to our emotional state at the time of hearing. This happens regardless of whether we respond favorably or unfavorably to such conversations. But given the current context (Greensboro, NC) that we fellows are in, and the current month (Black History month), I think it is important that we reflect on some possible sources of racial inequality, as it manifests itself first in our community, and what said inequality reveals about the unequal structures in the country at large. Even though we cannot disassociate ourselves from our history of conditioned response, I hope that we might become instruments of God’s peace in the current context- That we might seek to understand the perspective and pain of the poor and marginalized. I hope that we might give them our ears, pardon them their difference, and die to our prerogative to be in the position of ideological control. I pray we might learn, first from an investigation of our own experiences, the roots of racism within our very selves. May this understanding open us up to possible partial solutions to the problems raised in the digging.
Possible Roots of My Racism: Loneliness and Insecurity
I am lonely. I want to escape this loneliness. I am fixated on my own experience of loneliness, and think that by finding people who have much in common with me, and building strong relationships with them - sharing experiences together, and encountering one another in a variety of ways- I will find a cure to my loneliness. I derive a sense of identity from my relationship with those who I find to keep my insecurity at bay. We build a cultural Identity out of our common likes and dislikes, and our differences and similarities push and pull on one another, strengthening the bonds between us.
When I feel alone amidst a sea of strangers, I often start by looking for people who I assume will already accept me. If I cannot find a friend, I look for an acquaintance. If I cannot find an acquaintance, I look for those who have some visible marker that makes me assume that they are safe to approach. This could be a conversation I overhear that is on a topic with which I am familiar . . . However, this often is more conditioned by assumptions I make about their appearance, posture, or the sound of their voice. To use the words of Christ, I rarely do more than seek the love of those who I believe will love me in return.
However, this impulse to seek sameness is narcissism under the guise of community, for it produces passive exclusivism. Everyone becomes focused on themselves, finding ways of satisfying their own need for connection and acceptance.
Enter Church of the Redeemer
I then enter church of the redeemer - a place with a consistently present refugee community. They offer what most churches in the area do not- cultural diversity. Yet, who do I first look for when I arrive? Where do my eyes fall? They rest on the people I already know- the fellows. They are my shelter from the storm of loneliness in the world. I run to them because I know them and they know me. Only rarely do my eyes ever rest upon a refugee. On the times when they do, I feel a sense of guilt at my relational inability to overcome the discomfort of difference long enough to make a new friend.
And this very act of resting my eyes on some people and not others is a root of racism in me. My prerogative to seek similarity in an effort to shore up my sense of self importance makes evident the narcissism that hides behind many of my acts of self-giving.
All the while, those refugees who experience a linguistic/cultural barrier feel loneliness amidst a sea of strangers who, because of their own insecurities, cannot show hospitality to those who feel they do not belong. And unlike me, those on the margins do not feel the cultural power to approach me. If I am to meet them- to make them feel the welcome that I also long for, I must be the one to go through the discomfort of taking the first step.
However, as I have said, I am too focused on assuaging my own sense of loneliness to even think of possibly approaching them. I am self-oriented, even in my most sociable moments. I am focused on meeting my own needs.
This phenomena at play within me also helps explain why particular members of the refugee community stop attending Redeemer on a weekly basis. Refugees, who are passed by every Sunday, eventually stop going to church. They stop going, in part, for this very reason- they feel more alone in the midst of a sea of people that do not see them than they do at home, where they cannot be seen. They would rather not spend time in a place that reveals to them their status as outsiders. How do we begin the practice of hospitality toward those we assume will not assuage our loneliness? How do we become attuned to the emotional state of those who are left out? How do we begin the process of loving those who, for whatever reason, find it difficult to love us in return?
I don’t have a succinct or satisfying answer to this question. No matter how many friends I make from various backgrounds, I cannot envision a future for myself that does not seek a space of acceptance from those I assume will accept me. However, I think a partial answer lay in the words attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi.
“Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”
If the problem of my racism is rooted in my own insecurity, then maybe the solution lay in finding my security in something other than the community that makes me feel at home. How do I turn my loneliness from something that produces anxiety into something that produces strength? How do I develop a space within myself in which others feel welcome? How do I become one who receives in the giving, is consoled in the act of consoling, and finds security in the process of securing a space for the left out within my world?
The sunday school answer, of course, is Jesus. He is the one who often stands alone without being lonely, and creates an oasis of hospitality within himself in which all are welcome. He did not experience loneliness as insecurity, but as a time in which to commune with his father. When I am secured through spending time with God in solitude, it is easier to approach those I perceive as different. When my Identity is secure in him, acceptance follows. But the Identity cultivated in solitude with God is never a comfortable one. He is always calling us to greater acceptance and expression of love. He is always pushing the boundaries of our world, and this is uncomfortable.
However, this discomfort is a mirror. As long as we only spend time with those who are just like us, although it may assuage our loneliness in the short term, we never really come to know ourselves and our vulnerability. In our weakness, in the misunderstandings that arise from rubbing shoulders with those that are not us and are not like us, we come to truly know ourselves. That discomfort is what helps us to grow. It is the soil that spurs us to life. Coming to know oneself in God is something that requires intention, attention, and time staring our sense of fragility in the face. It requires struggle against our feelings of insecurity, and forces us to embrace others.
“Natural” Segregation
If you resonate with my partial account of racism within myself, then the steps that follow make sense. Most churches and communities are cultural clubs, in which we practice love toward those who we know will reciprocate. A facet of Cultural/linguistic/Economic segregation could follow from this basic insecurity/fear. We fool ourselves into thinking that we are not racists because we have a friend that is an ethnic minority, or because we hold no active negative feelings toward others. However, where we go to for support reveals much about our true orientation toward diversity. Beyond this, It explains why our churches are divided along cultural lines. It helps to explain why Businesses’ reflex is to hire those who are a good “cultural” fit for the company. If we find ourselves within the groups with the most cultural power, we no longer even see those who are on the margins, because our time is always spent in the company of those who inform and affirm our identity. We move from one social group to another, passing by the people that do not hold our attention all along the way. One such group that many rarely listen to, and almost never see, and yet have been present in American life from the very beginning, is that of the African American community. Their history runs parallel to our own. Yet, by in large, their perspective on our history is unimportant and unseen by the rest of America. Are we willing to cultivate enough security in God that we begin to build relationships with those who have always been present, but perennially passed over? How do we begin the process of listening to their voices? How do we address their questions and concerns? How would this change our political Identity? How would this change our economic position? How would becoming vulnerable to the concerns of the marginalized in our backyard change our priorities?
What does it look like to love the neighbor that one never sees?
