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Reflections on the Conversation on Race and the Church

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On September 21, Drew Hart and Ben Walter presented a conversation on race and the church at Germantown Historic Meetinghouse in Philadelphia, sponsored by the Franconia and Eastern District Conferences’ Peace & Justice Committee.  (Listen to the podcast.)  The following are reflections on this conversation from two men in very different walks of life: Mikah, a biracial young adult who is working with students in north Philadelphia, and Firman, a white pastor of over twenty-five years, ministering in a prosperous, rural setting.

“Take daring and bold steps”

mikahby Mikah Ochieng, Philadelphia Praise Center

Few people can present on the topic of race with such knowledgeable comprehension and articulation that it greatly impacts others, possibly for the first time in their lives, to open their eyes and hearts to new and positive perspectives of understanding the people with whom they come in contact everyday. PhD student at Lutheran Seminary, Drew Hart, achieved this very feat at September 21’s conversation on race at Germantown Mennonite Historic Trust.

I, for one, particularly appreciated the intentional usage of official vocabulary and language that tied thoughts, ideas, and experiences to meaningful terms that are often used in the public arena when facilitating dialogue on the topic of race. I took Hart’s usage of terminology to be a great gesture of introduction into historical and trending issues that evolved out of the topic of race. And maybe because talking about race, ethnicity, or cultural background is typically taboo in the public arena, we might need a good refresher to help us not only be conscious people of a racialized society, but active engagers of racial reconciliation.

Hart shared a glimpse into his story of growing up in a racialized society and being the target of micro aggressions, a term used to describe the subtle, non-verbalized, non-conscious marginalizing actions of others towards people of different races and cultures. Hart calls this a sort of ‘silent-killer’ in the arsenal of 21st century racism.  Like the harpoons of institutional racism, which is typically a covert form of marginalization working in the forms of our society’s institutions, micro aggressions work in such subtle ways as to not be considered existing issues in our society, but can over time, if gone unnoticed, cause great pain to its victim.

Hart tells a really great encapsulating story of when he was attending college at a well-to-do suburban Christian school and he would walk down the main path that went through the heart of the campus. Occasionally, as he would notice, when groups of white students would pass him they would walk near the opposite edge of the path, cast their eyes down or to the side and stop talking. As soon as they had crossed paths the students would go back to their conversations, laughing and joking just as casually as before.

It’s a small act that would seemingly deserve a small amount of attention, but as Hart describes, “It’s like getting a paper cut: it’s annoying at first, but when you keep receiving that type of treatment, a thousand paper cuts really adds up.”

As a biracial young person, that I was able to relate my own experience to Hart’s. I took some time to reflect and I’ve come to the undoubted conclusion that certain micro aggressions have made up the narrative of my life at a similar suburban liberal arts Christian university as well, not least of all the experience of walking along the paths of the campus and the interactions (or non-interactions) that develop between myself and white students.

Paired with micro aggressions are micro affirmations. That is, the reverse of a micro aggression, a subtle acknowledging action of another’s personal value to the other. One might make space for the other through an affirming smile or nod during a conversation that gives the other a sense of value and self-worth.

I take away from this discussion that there is hope for the Church, particularly our Anabaptist tradition, of becoming not only more racially aware, but active in reaffirmation and racial reconciliation. It is my hope, and I know from discussion with others after the event that it is the hope of many others, that the Church would take daring and bold steps to make racial reconciliation a reality in concrete steps.

Just as Hart and his conversation partner Ben Walter emphasized, reconciliation looks like being active listeners and partnering collaborators with those who share different viewpoints and experiences from our own in situations where power is concerned. A particularly pertinent issue might surround the authority of the Church and how it delegates its finances. Here, then, would be required the shared stewardship of resources across racial boundaries so that all represented peoples in the Church have a slice of dignity. It’s a hard bit to accomplish, but we at least have to try.

Firman“The radical nature of hope”

by Firman Gingerich, Blooming Glen

I am glad I attended the “Conversation on Race and the Church” held last week at the historic Germantown Meetinghouse.

Drew Hart’s comments have had me thinking a lot about my Anabaptist theological underpinnings and how they intersect with theological perspectives of people of color.

Drew reminded us that much of Black Theology comes from the perspective of people on the margins.  He correctly reminded us that much of Jesus ministry was birthed and expressed among folks who were oppressed and on the margins.  The Kingdom of God Jesus was calling people to participate in was a kingdom much at odds with the kingdom of the occupying and brutal Roman government.

Drew suggested that if we want to recover vital Anabaptist faith values, it will need to come through stories of people on the margins.  I think he is on to something that we should pay attention to.  Our Anabaptist parents were often marginalized by persecution or rejection.  Life on the margins taught us much about trusting God and the community to uphold us.  Anabaptism from the margins measured faithfulness by how we followed Jesus’ teachings.  Anabaptists were often bold in offering a prophetic witness to the culture that did not know Christ.

For many years I have felt growing tension over this in preaching.  Settled-in people don’t want faithfulness measured by how well we live the Sermon on the Mount.  We white folks often project that our faithfulness is connected to how we fulfill the American dream.  I’m reminded of what Scott Hutchinson, a pastor friend, told our staff several years ago as he was unpacking a Jesus parable to us: “There is no church in North America that would have Jesus of Nazareth as their pastor today.”    Jesus offered hope, new life, and courage to those on the margins of society and saved much of his criticism for those settled in, the religious and political leaders.

With a fresher perspective I’m wondering again how people on the margins can teach me, a white pastor, about the radical nature of hope that Jesus preached to the masses of the Galilean villages.

Several themes from Drew and Ben Walter’s conversation were helpful for again naming perspectives.  I found it valuable to ponder my white guilt, knowing that I believe deeply in the biblical themes that all of us are created in God’s image.  It was also helpful to be reminded that many people of color do not have the same privileges as I do.  I wondered about ways to model the kind of reflecting conversation between Drew and Ben in our churches.

One thing I have little to wonder about is our future.  The Germantown historic meetinghouse was filled, and mostly with folks much younger than me.  The willingness of younger leaders to have this conversation will only help us move more boldly toward the biblical themes that “we are all one In Christ Jesus.”  May we all help grow John’s dream in Revelation 7 where there is a gathered multitude worshipping at the heavenly throne made up of people from all tribes, peoples, and languages.

Taking time for justice: learning from Samantha Lioi

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Samantha Lioiby John Tyson, summer writing team

In a recent book, Mennonite Church USA executive director Ervin Stutzman noted that the peace rhetoric of the Mennonite church has shifted focus away from nonresistance and toward justice. This significant change in language suggests that urban, suburban, and rural congregations are undergoing an attitude adjustment toward the neighborhood. Unlike nonresistance, the work of justice is naturally outward-oriented, concerned with the common good and the overall health of the local community.

One reason that congregations have altered their posture toward their local contexts is the influence of missional theology. It has birthed a generation of Christians ready to join what God is already doing in neighborhood, beyond the church walls. Finding ways to merge living the Gospel (justice) and spreading the Good News (mission), though, requires more than an attitude adjustment: it requires time.

This is the humbling lesson that I learn over coffee with Samantha Lioi, minister of peace and justice for both Franconia and Eastern District conferences. Among other things, Lioi’s role includes preaching and teaching and organizing congregational peace representatives, but the essence of her time is spent broadening our common conceptions of the complicated relationship between living out Anabaptist Christianity and seeking justice.

Lioi is passionate about helping congregations see justice in less abstract terms. For Lioi, justice is less about the business of law and politics and more about creating spaces in our busyness to share our lives with unexpected people. Following in Jesus’ footsteps, justice can be as ordinary as sharing mutual food and fellowship across socially-constructed lines of race, religious, or class divisions. A member of the Allentown intentional community known as Zume House, Lioi has seen these practices slowly begin to have a transformational impact on the community. “We’re all so busy that we sometimes lack the attentiveness that is critical to entering mutual relationships with others. It’s important to be reminded that doing justice can’t only be seen as ‘doing for others’ but ‘doing with others’ too,” says Lioi.

Transitioning from ‘doing for’ to ‘doing with’ often proves to be a challenging paradigm shift for congregations in affluent contexts. One reason is due to the reality that injustice and inequality is murkier and less dramatic in suburban, affluent settings. But the bigger reason involves a paradox, one that has to do with time. Affluent congregations are often so busy working to maintain a well-oiled church that they miss opportunities to vulnerably be with their neighbors, to sit among them with Jesus. “Being with others, learning from others, openness to being changed by real human encounters,” Lioi says, “is time consuming and outside our comfort zones.”

For Lioi, Christian faith from an Anabaptist perspective is patiently cultivated in the presence of others. Only from within diverse relationships do we begin to grasp a better sense of our own shortcomings and need for spiritual transformation. Lioi is hopeful that congregations in Eastern District and Franconia Conferences continue to seek encounters which lead us to “become more honest with ourselves, cultivate courage to face our fears, and display a greater willingness to be changed by our neighbors.”

Growing in honesty, courage, and openness is a long journey. It leads toward outbreaks and glimmers of what life in God’s kingdom looks like, what justice in all its fullest is, but it takes time. As the Mennonite church continues conversion about becoming a missional community, seeking to find ways to merge mission and justice, Lioi’s work of shepherding congregations is a true gift.

Advocating on Washington's Capitol Hill

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Marty sit-in
Marty (kneeling on the right) and other faith leaders stage a sit-in at the Capitol building to protest cuts to food stamps.

by Jacob Hanger, summer writing team

While theologian Stanley Hauerwas warns the church to avoid all government involvement, his mentor John Howard Yoder* did not share his reservation. In For the Nations, Yoder encourages the church to be a witness to our government by advocating the gospel to our country’s leaders. He is quick to warn against what he calls the “Constantinian Temptation,” though, and suggests advocates speak from the outside rather than from the center. Martin Shupack, director of advocacy at Church World Service (Washington, D.C.), has built a career doing just this.

Marty, as he’s known by friends and family, works with Church World Service to eradicate hunger and poverty and to promote peace and justice around the world. His job, in his own words, is to influence public policy by translating Christ’s teachings in a way that makes sense to policy makers, identifying instances of injustice where politicians have influence and encouraging them to find just solutions. When the SNAP (food stamp) Program was going to be gutted a few weeks ago, Marty and his team lobbied politicians against the cuts. As a result, the program was left untouched. Similarly, two years ago, when even more severe cuts were being considered, he and a dozen religious leaders of all faiths staged a sit-in/prayer meeting inside the Capitol’s rotunda as an act of civil disobedience.

Much of the advocacy Marty does is for the poor. He sees injustice in the fact that Congress builds structures that favor the wealthy and further marginalize the poor (like cutting the SNAP program but giving tax breaks to corporations). He does not simply look for any solution to the problems, however, but advocates for just solutions.

Marty has worked on policies for refugee resettlement and is currently working to encourage policy makers to pass a just immigration overhaul bill. His proudest accomplishment was being part of the team that helped pass Jubilee 2000, an effort led by religious organizations for the cancellation of debts held by poor countries. Many of these debts were unjust because these countries were still paying on debts that had been incurred by dictators who had long lost power. These debts were also preventing poor countries from investing in infrastructure because of the hefty debt repayments. Following the Old Testament tradition, religious leaders advocated that “richer nations clean the slate.” After about 10 years of work, in 2000 Marty saw his work pay off and many unjust debts forgiven.

The foundation for Marty’s work is his Christian faith. When he thinks about justice he uses the Gospel definition to guide his thinking; in Greek justice means “having a right relationship.” So when Marty meets with policy makers on Capitol Hill he encourages them to seek solutions that encourage a right relationship between the individuals of this country. If they ask for a picture of what it looks like he points to Jesus’ City on the Hill metaphor and explains that the Gospels encourage us to foster community with our neighbors and to be a model for onlookers. Justice, to Marty, is God’s perfect conception of what living in our society should look like.

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Advocating justice in our education system

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by Mikah Ochieng, summer writing team

Maria BylerPhiladelphia Praise Center is located in the heart of South Philadelphia, a neighborhood that captures all four corners of the world into a 20 block radius. If you know anything about South Philly, it’s that it’s constantly prone to social change. For over a century, the community has been heavily influenced by the Italian culture but recently it has become a cultural hub for the Hispanic and Asian communities. Like the 20th century immigrants who came before them, this new generational wave of immigrants have experienced what it’s like to face the specific challenges that culture and language bring to one’s life. That is why there are people like Maria C. M. Byler.

Prior to moving to Harrisonburg, Va. this fall to pursue an M.Div. at Eastern Mennonite Seminary, Byler played a tremendous role in the life of Philadelphia Praise Center (PPC) and the lives of countless immigrants who have struggled to acclimate to a new environment.  As PPC’s on-staff social worker and in her position with Southeast Asian Mutual Assistance Associations Coalition (SEEMAAC), an education, health, and social services agency, Byler committed to making the lives of others a better reality, both spiritually and economically.

Byler’s passionate and optimistic insight has always been a reliable source of inspiration for her work with students and parents in educational services. SEEMAC exposed her to various social services relating to education and school attendance for truant and absent immigrant students. Yet what Byler later discovered as she became more familiar with the educational system within Philadelphia both shocked and frustrated her in her work with students and parents.

On top of the overbearing obstacles that the Philadelphia school district is constantly facing, there remains the issue of deep discriminatory acts of segregation along economic and social boundaries. Byler discovered early on that the traditional motto of American education being “non-discriminatory and accessible to everyone” was simply not true for the people that she was serving. Commonly, Byler would work with bilingual parents who needed language services and programs in order to sufficiently interact with the schools that their children attended. Although these programs had been properly established, it seemed obvious to Byler that the system of education favored students whose primary language was English—educational equality was not accessible to Byler’s client families.

The problems of inner city education are most evident when comparing the education systems of the metro area and the surrounding suburbs. As one would expect, there are economic differences between the two demographic areas, economic differences that seem to be an injustice perpetuated by America’s oldest original sin: institutional racism. Byler has witnessed first-hand the lack of resources and opportunities that Latino and Asian families fail to receive as compared to families who send their children to schools in more affluent, suburban areas.

But it doesn’t have to stay this way, suggests Byler. The solution for this injustice is one that would positively revise the method of state and federal funding for education. Big-time legislators and hardworking parents can work together to provide immigrant students with the hope they receive from a good education, regardless of their nationality. All children, says Byler, should be recognized as unique and worthy of opportunity, not just educational opportunity, but opportunity in all of life.

Because God’s Kingdom is a manifestation of this hope, Jesus-followers are called to tear down the walls of institutional racism that seal away our community’s most powerless—our children—from the hope of an equal education.

Blurring the line between immigration and criminal laws

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justneighborslogo-nov-05by Jacob Hanger, summer writing team

I’m currently an intern at Just Neighbors, an organization based in Northern Virginia that provides legal services to low-income immigrants and refugees. We have an extraordinary team of lawyers who are devoted to helping a marginalized subset of the American population that often finds itself voiceless when dealing with our country’s legal system. We have had clients from 116 different countries, and demand for our services is so high that we frequently have to turn away individuals simply because we do not have enough staff to take every case comes looking for help.

At work, I had the opportunity to talk to Allison Ruland-Soulen, Just Neighbor’s Director of Legal Services, and Alex Boston, Just Neighbor’s Executive Director. Our conversation revolved around specific instances of injustice they have encountered during their years practicing immigration law. The following discussion is the result of this conversation.

Immigration law can be particularly unjust when the separation between Immigration Law and Criminal Law blurs. The two systems are sophisticated on their own – unfortunately, when they begin sharing jurisdiction they can sometimes become clumsy. For instance, a few years ago a lawyer at Just Neighbors had a case where a Cuban man was in the process of applying for his green card. The man struggled with alcoholism, and had been caught twice stealing a can of beer from a convenience store. He was denied his green card because of two beers.

What happened was this: in this man’s case, the immigration side of his case was motivated by humanitarian purposes. The fact that he is Cuban makes him a political asylee in the eyes of the American government. On the criminal side, however, he had two crimes of moral turpitude (defined as conduct that is considered contrary to community standards of justice, honesty or good morals) on his record. Our criminal law states that only one offense of moral turpitude can be overlooked in the case of Cubans applying for green cards. This law is obviously meant to prevent criminals guilty of much bigger crimes, but in the case of this Cuban, he was denied residency in the U.S. due to the fact that he stole less than $3 dollars of merchandise. The humanitarian aspect of his case was left untouched, but the criminal side trumped it and he now has to live in the U.S. as an undocumented immigrant. Undoubtedly an injustice.

To explore another instance of injustice, answer this question: what do you think our government prizes more?  Domestic violence or love?  If you said domestic violence, you are right. If a United States citizen marries an undocumented immigrant who crossed the border without going through customs, there is no way for the U.S. citizen to petition for his or her spouse to be granted citizenship. The only way an undocumented immigrant who is married to a U.S. citizen can get status is if he or she has been the victim of domestic violence and reports it to the police. In other words, if a U.S. Citizen marries an undocumented immigrant who crossed the border without going through customs, the immigrant cannot become a U.S. citizen but if the U.S. Citizen abuses the immigrant, the immigrant can get citizenship relatively quickly.  It certainly is an injustice that domestic violence trumps marriage in our system of immigration.

There are more situations where this blurring causes injustice. The takeaway here is that we need to be vigilant about the unintended consequences our laws might have. Ultimately, the people who can change these laws are responsible to U.S. citizens, so if you ever notice a particular injustice at the hand of the law, write your congressman or congresswoman and let them know!

Justice includes compassion and mercy

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Bobby Wibowoby Mikah Ochieng, summer writing team

Compassion rarely surfaces as a topic voiced in the same breath with justice. Justice, after all, is commonly acquainted with the tenets of fairness, that is, what is deserved according to a set of commonly held laws and beliefs. Displaying a form of affectionate compassion, it would seem in most cases, would fly in the face of the outcomes of fairness. Think about helping people that you know, by all accounts, shouldn’t deserve help–isn’t this a breach in the case of enacting justice?

I had this discussion recently with Bobby Wibowo, a 23-year-old man born in Indonesia, who is now living in Philadelphia where we are part of the same church, Philadelphia Praise Center.  Bobby is a paralegal working mostly with immigration law.  He tells me that despite the machine-like tenacity of our legal system, he believes that compassion is an integral component in treating people justly. Bobby believes that people of privilege and power in law-making decisions often need a change in perspective. He asserts that mercy should be a lens by which law-makers interpret the law and arbitrate on people’s immigration cases.

I ask why.

“People in power have their own agendas,” Bobby says, implying a critical disconnect between the worldview and power of the socially influential from the experiences of the socially marginalized or powerless. Bobby’s insight evokes the adage: one cannot possibly hope to understand the “other” without first walking a mile in his or her shoes.

But what would mercy and compassion actually look like in the process of immigration justice and reform? In the case of immigration, Bobby suggests, people who have an order posted against them for deportation should, in certain cases, be excused. Bobby lists some cases where the justice system should reconsider the sentence of those awaiting deportation on the basis of extraordinary circumstances: if a dependent family member is suffering from poor health; if the deportee is strongly involved in the community, is seeking asylum, or if children with U.S. citizenship would be involved in the deportation process. These are all factors that need to be considered in cases that include deportation as an option, Bobby asserts.

Bobby retains a lot of faith in the justice system but he isn’t blind to unjust rulings in cases that pass through his hands at the law office. While translating and organizing documents and files that have gone to trial, he sometimes comes across a case in which he thinks the ruling should have been more lenient. Maybe if the justice system would be more willing to extend a hand of grace, he reflects, and recognize that the human dignity of offending immigrants is equal to that of U.S. citizens, we might reach a justice that more reflects what Christ demonstrated with us.

“Dominance is a blinder:” Introducing Drew Hart

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Drew Hartby John Tyson, summer writing team

Drew Hart’s journey has pulled him into uncharted territory. His theological work is an encounter at the borderlines between black liberation theology and Anabaptism.

Rarely linked in academic circles, Hart argues that the shared pursuit of justice equips these two traditions to be complimentary conversation partners. Although, Hart emphatically adds, “Anabaptism needs black theology more than black theology needs Anabaptism.”

The origins of black theology can be traced back to the publication of James Cone’s Black Theology & Black Power in 1969. Black theology is a multidimensional approach to theological reflection. Born out of the ongoing experience of oppression endured by the African-American community in the United States, black theology draws from Christianity, the Civil Rights movement, and Black Power. Like feminist, womanist, or Latin American liberation theology, black theology communicates that God is partial to the struggle of those who are the most invisible and least powerful in our culture and society.

The tone of black theology is overwhelmingly constructive. The hope of black theology is not only the radical liberation of the African-American community from racial prejudice, but the emergence of a renewed society, one that provides equal power to all.

Hart’s own engagement with black theology began during his undergraduate studies in Biblical Studies at Messiah College. His discovery of Anabaptism came at the tail-end of his Masters of Divinity work at Biblical Theological Seminary, Hatfield, Pa. Now, as a doctoral candidate at Lutheran Theology Seminary in Philadelphia, Hart is focused on creating scholarship that furthers the conversation between the two traditions that have shaped his faith story.

Hart’s desire to draw resonances between black theology and Anabaptism is as promising as it is timely. In the aftermath of the Trayvon Martin verdict, many Christians concerned about racial justice sought to lament the ruling. Hart has used his vibrant theology blog as a medium to analyze the verdict’s social and political implications in light of Christ’s resurrection and subsequent defeat of the powers of violence. On his blog, Hart writes, “God invites us to be part of his Resurrection world that overcomes the violence and oppression of this current world and to participate in the world to come, where the vulnerability of young men like Trayvon (and our loved ones) will no longer happen.”

As an associate pastor at Lansdale’s Montco Bible Fellowship and a developing teacher, Hart is passionate about helping Christians of all colors follow in the footsteps of Jesus. Indeed, the sub-title of Hart’s blog, “Taking Jesus Seriously,” always means paying attention to – and having the eyes to see – how social power is unjustly determined by race and class dynamics in our present context.

This challenge is especially hard for white Christians, who often take for granted being in positions of social dominance.

“Dominance is a blinder,” says Hart, and the possibility of overcoming racial injustice involves allowing those in positions of social prestige to be haunted by an uncomfortable challenge: “Can we, despite all of our instincts, truly and fully trust the experience of the other?” This question is, for Hart, a question that Anabaptists are uniquely suited to ask as underdogs in the history of the church. Intentionally working to process our social locations through stories and experiences told by the “least of these,” according to Hart, is something Anabaptists have always attempted to do, albeit imperfectly.

As a leader in both the church and academy, Hart is driven by a vision of justice. It is a vision, though, that is energized by a prayerful patience that God’s solidarity with the oppressed and the biblical promise of a reconciled world will overcome injustice. For Hart, the church is “called out” to be an agent of God’s healing so that the watching world might “catch a glimpse of Jesus’ life.” The church’s public witness is most powerful when it engages in, Hart says, “concrete acts of wrestling with a society in relationship to what it might become” rather than accepting what it may be in the present.

In order for the church to bear witness to God’s dream of a just world, the continual work of overcoming internal divisions and tensions is critical. The church worships each and every Sunday under the gaze of a watching world, a world that is increasingly longing for an encounter with the reconciled people of God. With a pastoral spirit and a vibrant theological vision, Drew Hart is a leader who will continue to help us discern how to embody justice in our communities.

Justice in the Streets

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by Mikah Ochieng, John Tyson, & Jacob Hanger, summer writing team

Mikah
Mikah

What is justice?

In a famous essay, Christian ethicist Stanley Hauerwas considers the possibility that pursuing justice is a bad idea for Christians. Hauerwas is not against justice per se, but against theories of justice born in traditions outside of the church, and thus susceptible to social strategies that might contradict the Christian confession that Jesus is Lord. Hauerwas instead encourages Christians to turn to practices of justice inspired by their own scripture and tradition.

John
John

With the emergence of each new era, however, those practices take new shapes and forms. Finding an answer to our opening question can only begin by turning to our sisters and brothers who are presently engaged in the struggle to embody the prophetic spirit of Micah 6:8 – to do justice, to love kindness, to walk humbly with God in the streets.

This blog is the first in a fall series on justice. The purpose of this project is to explore the stories of various Anabaptist-influenced sisters and brothers engaged in responding to injustice in their personal contexts. Each of our writers resides in a different location: Washington, DC, Philadelphia, and the suburbs by way of Princeton, New Jersey. Through our conversations, we intend to create a learning space to incite further dialogue on this matter. Each story will be different because every context brings its own struggles and solutions.

Jacob
Jacob

This project has three primary objectives:

  • To highlight the evolving narrative of justice emerging in our communities.
  • To distill common themes present in the public imaginations of individuals who believe justice is relevant to following Jesus in this world, and
  • to inspire more to seek justice.

Our own reflections will be steeped in our respective contexts. We understand that they provide only a fragmented picture of our communities, yet it is our hope that these conversations produce new learning that can be applied and practiced in a multitude of different contexts.