Earth Day

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, "Deeper than our trauma," October 13, 2019


Revelation 4 BFC 2019
Revelation 13
October 13, 2019


          The African American author and activist, James Baldwin said in “A Talk to Teachers” way back in 1963, “Let’s begin by saying that we are living through a very dangerous time.  Everyone in this room is in one way or another aware of that.”[1]  In the early 60s, Baldwin recognized that our country’s grotesque and disfigured beast of racism would do all that it could in its determined barbarity and cruelty  to avoid being transformed.  That beast was either going to fuel and stoke our country’s history of imperial violence or a revolution of values might replace the Domination System for something more whole and good and right. 
In answering what he might do to teach an African American child, Baldwin said, “I would try to make [them] know that just as American history is longer, larger, more various, more beautiful and more terrible than anything anyone has ever said about it, so is the world larger, more daring, more beautiful and more terrible, but principally larger – and that it belongs to them.”[2]  The good earth not only belongs to you.  It is you.  We share in it.  And it shares in us. 
          Those monsters may come as a warning.   But now the devil has been called out into the street and revealed for just how hateful and cruel it is.  We must vow that we will work hard to stop it.  On this Indigenous Peoples’ Sunday, we can no longer say we didn’t know of our country’s legacy of colonization, violence, and racism.  We can’t say we don’t know, pretend that the time and pain and hurt of this monster or dragon is over, and something lodged in the past.  The time is now.  And the time to engage the principalities and the powers was yesterday. 
          How do we do that?  How do we engage the principalities and the powers?
          You may have heard the story of Chanel Miller, the young Chinese-American woman who became defined by the words “unconscious,” “stupid,” “dumpster,” “half-naked,” “nameless,” and “nobody,”  because she was raped by a white Stanford swimmer behind a dumpster.  Chanel Miller moved out of the shadows when her victim impact statement was picked up by national media and shared with the world.  In four days, 11 million people read her victim impact statement—a statement that had her step out into the world declaring her worth over and against domination and violence.  In speaking, she recognized that the Domination System and story, the violence done to her, did not have to be her story.  She could continue to craft herself and be confident in who she was. 
          But Chanel recognized that her soul was able to step forward because of the community that held her, saw her, checked on her, grieved with her, provided a presence for her, held her rapist accountable, believed her, and became a movement surrounding her.  To me, that sounds like the role of the church with the work of historical trauma.    
She remembered when she told the story of the violence done to her to her mom.  Chanel watched her mom’s face just break open.  When you see yourself through the eyes of your loved ones, you recognize that the historical violence, institutional violence, the personal violence done to you isn’t something you deserved.  And that what happened is really painful and that’s ok.  Chanel’s mom just held her so she could break open.  And as Chanel said, “[S]ometimes, even if you don’t have words, you need that holding. You need someone to be showing you that they see you and that they’re here for you.”[3]
          It was the two Swedish graduate students who checked on her, chased her perpetrator and pinned him to the ground, saying, “Do you think this is ok?  What the f--- were you doing?  Say sorry to her.”  And then the two Swedish graduate students held him there so that there might be first-compassion, second-a demand for repentance, and finally-accountability.  In all of it, they stayed with Chanel and offered their presence to her. 
Chanel was later told by the police that when one of the Swedish students gave his testimony to the police, he openly wept for her.  And in his grieving, deputies attending to Chanel openly wept, their hearts softened by his compassion.  The Swedish graduate students took time out of their lives, interrupted their lives, to repeatedly testify to the violence at trial, to reveal the monstrous behavior.  When Chanel later thanked them, they would not let the focus be on them.  They both thanked her for what she had done for the world by stepping forward in courage.  As Chanel boldly stated, these two Swedish graduate students created a standard by which we can hold other men to. 
          Then it was the jury members, who one by one, repeated “yes” to all of the counts against her rapist, each one, individually, saying these “yeses” to validate her story, to tell her she was something more than nothing.  Chanel had known he should be held accountable.  But the beast roared and the historical violence pounded and made her unsure until the jury would not unbelieve what had happened.  When each juror was finished saying “yes” again and again, she was reminded that she was of worth.
          And finally, it was the whole movement of women, the #MeToo movement and a professor who led a movement to recall the judge for imposing such a ridiculously lenient sentence.  The judge believed the pain of the white young man committing the rape did not define him and worried that his accountability might mitigate his future.  The movement helped Chanel Miller know she would not be defined by his violence or the judge’s sentence.  The movement helped Chanel Miller to know she would not be limited to the absolute worst thing that had happened to her in her life--that the parameters set by the violence and the surrounding Domination System would not define her, her trauma would not hold her.  This whole community movement, like what church is supposed to be, reminded her that Chanel Miller had a larger and more transcendent story than her trauma. 
          John of Patmos said to Christians in the First Century that there was something more transcendent than the violent monsters, a story more boundless than the beast.  At the same time, John invited early Christians, tried to help them see, that this story was already here, nearer, being revealed as a community that holds one another in love, sees one another, checks in, grieves the historical and present violence done, provides a presence,  believes those who recount the violence, and holds those responsible for the violence accountable.  When I see people in the Native community step forward, as they do today and every day, I know the sacred, deeper story is being told again—people like Phillene, Kassie and Walter, Nell, Angie and Marci, Josiah, Alicia, Cora, Jean, Dyani, Barbara, Kinsley, and Leonard—the story is being told again and the day of the monster is coming to a close. 
          This is the stuff of their souls. It is not defined by moments of mercy or opportunity; it is not good things happening to them. Rather, it is the good thing that is in them, regardless of what happens. They carry this down through generations, same as the epigenetic trauma of a violent Domination System. We say on this Indigenous Peoples’ Sunday that the holding, seeing, grieving, providing a space and presence, and believing them is what Creator now calls forward in a movement. It is what made the ancestors hold on so that all of us could be part of that old, old story—more transcendent, boundless, bigger than the story of any monster or beast.[4] 
Like the early 60s, we live in a very dangerous time.  But the movement is beginning and already here.  It is near.  Do you feel it?  That movement is beginning and already here.  Amen.  



[1] James Baldwin, “A Talk to Teachers:  The Negro Child-His Self-Image,” October 16, 1963; originally published in The Saturday Review, December 21, 1963, reprinted in The Price of the Ticket, Collected Non-Fiction 1948-1985, Saint Martins 1985.    https://richgibson.com/talktoteachers.htm
[2] Ibid.
[3]“Interview with Chanel Miller: The Stanford Sexual Assault Case Made Her “Emily Doe.” In New Memoir, Chanel Miller Tells Her Story,.” Democracy Now!  October 11, 2019.  https://www.democracynow.org/2019/10/11/chanel_miller_know_my_name_interview
[4] “Interview with Amani Perry:  More Beautiful,” OnBeing, September 26, 2019.  https://onbeing.org/programs/imani-perry-more-beautiful/. 

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