Results tagged “Martin Luther King” from Marilyn Sewell

During Archbishop TuTu's recent visit to Portland, some of us were asked to participate in panel discussions on several related topics.  I was asked to be on a panel entitled "Religion as a Bridge to Reconciliation."  The following is part of what I said in my introductory remarks:

The word religion comes from the prefix re, meaning back and the Latin ligare, which means "to bind" or "to bind back" or "to reconnect."  One might say that the function of religion is to repair the illusion of our separation.  Religion should play a natural, a logical role in reconciliation--to bind us together in common values of love, compassion, justice, and forgiveness.

Unfortunately, religion--and I can speak with real authority only of the Christian religion, which is my own--religion most often seems to do the opposite: it serves to separate and to divide.  Christianity has such a bad reputation that the very use of the word in the common vernacular connotes "one who is rigid in belief," and people who are not religious are wary of those who are, for these unconverted individuals--those unwashed in the blood, so to speak--too often have been targets for conversion and have not been respected as the persons, theological and otherwise, that they are.

Of course, all religious people are not Fundamentalists by any means, but even so, when any group of people begin to say, "My way is the way, my path is the only path," the result is division and acrimony.

In fact, religion then becomes no different in this way from any other ideology, whethers an idealogy of communism or capitalism or racism or deconstructionist thinking.  One who becomes an ideologist, or a true believer, begins to exist in a closed system.  Whatever fits into this chosen system is labeled "true" and whatever does not is labeled "false."  The curiosity, spontaneity, and growth of such an individual become limited.

Because each of us is troubled by a multitude of interior forces we do not and will not ever totally understand, it is our nature to look for a system which explains our angst and which makes us feel safe within the walls of that system.  We do not see that system as arbitrary, as created by humans who are terrified of our own inevitable demise, and so we reify those structures--that is, we come to believe that there is a concrete reality there.  Therefore, we cling to these beliefs as to life itself, and whatever threatens them must be challenged--or perhaps stemped out, eliminated.

Given this very human and very pervasive problem with religion, one can see why religion often fails to be a sturdy instrument of reconciliation.  At the same time, we know that there have been instances when it has been.  I'm thinking of enlightened leaders who have internalized the radical way of being that seems to be at the heart of all major religions--the radical way of love, compassion, peace.  Violence and retribution have no part to play.  I'm thinking, for example, for Martin Luther King, Jr., who taught non-violence in the Civil Rights movement; or Gandhi, who practiced satyagraha, or passive resistance, to free his people from British rule; or a more recent example, the Amish, who forgave the man who gunned down their children in a Pennsylvania schoolhouse a few years ago, because these gentle people could do no other: forgiveness is their way of being.

So if we mean by religion, a spiritual commitment to love and compassion and non-violence--if we mean by religion, a radical change of being in which the individual or community understands that we are all one and that love and forgiveness are central to their being, then yes, religion is the essence of reconciliation and a path to that difficult state.

But if we mean by religion--which we generally do--an institutionalized set of beliefs, then, no, just the opposite.  For religion in that sense divides people into the righteous and the unrighteous, the saved and the unsaved, the good and the evil.  And of course if we have made "the other" evil, then the righteous must have control over the evil ones.  We righteous ones can then project all of our shadow side onto these evil ones, and then Christians can smile as we say things to gays and lesbians like, "I hate the sin, but love the sinner," or say to those of another faith tradition, "If you haven't accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you're going to hell."  Not to mention the generations of wars between believers of various faiths throughout the world, throughout all time.  Make the people of a different tribe or race or religion "other," and they are much easier to kill.

So is religion a path to reconciliation?  Not until its practititioners mature as religious beings.  Not until its institutions become more devoted to the heart-lessons of their prophets than to the divisive theology of their true believers.

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This morning David Kellerman, 41, Acting CFO of mortgage giant Freddie Mac, was found dead, an apparent suicide.  Freddie Mac has been harshly criticized for financing risky loans that are now defaulting.  The company was also under fire for planning to pay more than $210,000,000 in bonuses to their executives, to give them incentives to stay.  Kellerman, who had taken over when the former CEO had been relieved of his duties, was responsible for 500 employees and was working on the current financial report at the time of his death.  He leaves behind a wife and a five-year-old daughter, Grace.

Why did Kellerman kill himself?  Was it the many points of pressure?  Was in shame, for being involved in what he knew were slight-of-hand loan deals?  Was it some illegal act that is yet to be uncovered?  There will be an investigation.  There will be follow-up articles.  But we may never know the truth.  He himself may not have fully understood the demons which pushed him to take his life.

But the question before us is: what's worth dying for?  Making a mistake--even a big one--is not worth dying for.  Doing something that you are ashamed of--that's not worth dying for, either.  Trying to live up to others' expectations and failing--that's not worth dying for, either.

What is worth dying for?  To save the life of another, perhaps.  To make justice.  To go against the powers that be, when the powers are corrupt and evil.  These are things worth dying for.  We remember those who have done so: the firemen of 9/11; soldiers who lay down their lives for their comrades or for their country; Martin Luther King, Jr.; Archbishop Romero; journalists who are murdered for writing the truth about crooked political leaders.

But suicide?  No.  It is always, always, always possible to start over when you make a mistake, or when you do wrong.  Forgiveness is always an option.  If it were not, which one of us could keep going, with our more or less constantly besmirched lives?  We all "fall short of the glory of God," as my saintly grandmother used to say.  We can say, "I was wrong.  I'm sorry."  And we can start over.  Every day, in fact.

The one who commits suicide just "wants out," because the pain is so great, and that person cannot see an end to the suffering.  Many of us feel that intensity of pain at one time or another.  But depression can be cured, pain will end, and life turns round.  Dear reader, if you're ever considering suicide, remember that. 

It is sad beyond words when a little five-year-old is left without a father--and answerless questions that will last a lifetime.  Suicide colors so many lives, and for so long: a wife left alone; fellow workers asking, "Why?"; friends blaming themselves and saying, "I should have called . . . ." 

 Sometimes it takes courage just to keep going, just to get up every morning and face the day.  But there is no honorable alternative, for it's not just your own life--you belong to all of us.  We are all diminished when any one person takes his life.

We are irrevocably connected, the one with the other.  Stay with us, brother.  Hang in there, sister.  Together, we can find a way through anything. 

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A ferocious conversation about shoe-throwing is taking place all over the Middle East just now.  It appears that there are two schools of thought at the moment regarding the action of Muntader al-Zaidi, the journalist who threw two shoes at President Bush during a press conference.  Some people are saying that the act was wrong, that traditional Arab hospitality towards a guest demands respect, even if a person disapproves of the guest (as most Arabs apparently do, of this guest).  Far more people, however, seem elated by the defiant act--in fact, Muntader al-Zaidi has become something of folk hero to many.  In the Sadr City section of Baghdad, people are taking off their shoes and sandals and putting them on long poles, and waving them high in the air, demanding that Americans immediately withdraw from their country.  (See NYTimes, 12/16)

I must say that it was pretty amazing to see repeated television images of someone throwing a shoe at the President, hard and fast, and the President ducking, and then, whoops, here comes another one, again just barely missing.  Bush made light of it, saying "This is how democracy works."  Well, actually, no--being in a democracy doesn't give a person permission to fling shoes at their President.  The act, no doubt, was disrespectful.  But was it brave and appropriate--or rash and foolish?

I grew up in the South, in a society in which politeness was paramount--rules were followed.  It was "Yes, Ma'am" and "Yes, Sir."  It was speaking softly and slowly, it was moving gently in the world.  And yet often, out of the mouths of these good and gentle people, who would stretch and strain never to offend, came horrendous remarks and acts of racism.  The rules about black and white were clear: "Nigras" were fine so long as they "stayed in their place."  When they did not, when they dared to violate the rules, violence erupted.

Well, who makes the rules, and for what purpose?  And when should rules be broken? 

I am of two minds of this.  I am all for rules of decorum.  I prefer polite behavior.  Let me tell you, that a man can open the door for me any time.  And I like to visit the South, where children have been saying "Yes, Ma'm" to me since I was 35.  I believe that these rules of behavior are there for a reason, and generally that reason is so that society can remain civilized, and people will remain respectful of one another.

On the other hand, sometimes rules and traditions need to be broken, and their very breaking shines a light on something that is awry in the society.  Martin Luther King, Jr., taught his followers to practice civil disobedience, and so they sat in restaurants and at drugstore counters that were "White Only."  Rosa Parks did not follow the rules of the city bus line.  The Berrigan brothers poured blood on draft records during the Vietnam War.  Every year demonstrators go to the School of the Americas in Georgia, where the U.S. trains foreign soldiers to terrorize their own citizens, and these demonstrators break the rules--they step over the government "line" and are arrested, and many have been jailed, some for as long as six months--nuns and priests and ministers, among them.

Every person must discern for himself or herself when it's right and appropriate to break the rules.  One rule of thumb would be your motive, of course--are you breaking the rule for your own benefit, or to grandstand--or because you believe a statement must be made that cannot better be made another way. 

I myself--well, I'm a good girl and always have been.  I follow the rules.  That's why I was elected "Best Christian" in my senior year in high school.  And then I became an English teacher, and you know how they are about rules.  Now I'm a minister, and we all are aware of the rule-bound-ness of religion.  Except there's one rule in religion that's bigger than all the others--it's called the Rule of Love.  So when we face a dilemma, we can ask, "What is the most loving thing to do?"  Sometimes it's fasting.  Sometimes it's not eating British salt.  Sometimes it's speaking the truth to power, even though that's going to get you in a mess of trouble. 

Sometimes it's throwing a shoe.

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The sub-text of this fascinating Presidential campaign is race.  Does race matter?  Only Stephen Colbert, of the Colbert Report, can look viewers in the eye and say, "I don't see color."  Perhaps one day in the distant future, no one will see color at all.  But now everyone does.  The question is not, "Does race matter?" the question is, "How much does race matter, and to whom?"

I am from the South.  I know the South.  So I should not have been surprised when I talked with a Southerner last summer--a well-educated woman, a liberal, a long-time Democrat--who told me at that time, "Obama is not electable."  And when I asked why, she said, "He hasn't had enough experience."  Did her comment come from her own unconscious racism?  Or was she simply echoing the views of most of her neighbors and friends?  It now looks as though Obama is electable--but the new question becomes, "What about the Bradley effect?  Will people who say they would vote for a black person actually be reluctant to do so in the confines of the voting booth?"  I suppose we will see in three weeks.

One way to measure the division of the races in our country is the extent to which blacks and whites differ on the issue.  Whites were truly shocked when blacks cheered as O.J. Simpson was judged innocent in his first murder trial.  Didn't everyone know he was guilty as sin?  Maybe so.  But did whites understand the depth of anger that blacks carry about police corruption and police brutality?  Not a chance.  And more recently, whites were shocked to hear the remarks of Jeremiah Wright, Obama's former minister, regarding his anger toward this country.  Again, whites mostly have no idea of the amount of unspoken anger that festers in people of color when they are talked down to, ignored by taxi drivers, disregarded when decisions are made.  And most whites have never attended a black church service, which is one place where blacks speak are able to freely not only about their own sins, but about their hopes and dreams, and about the systemic sins that plague this country.

Whether you are a Democrat or a Republican, whether you support Obama or McCain, I think all Americans will judge it a positive step forward that a black man is being seriously considered by either party as a viable candidate for President of the United States.  This in itself is something of a moral miracle, considering that blacks were being still being lynched in this country in the 1940's, and Civil Rights legislation wasn't passed until the 1960's.

So are we color blind yet?  Not yet.  But though Obama is called black, we should remember that he is bi-racial, as more and more of our citizens will be, as time goes on.  We will begin to wonder, as people do of my bi-racial grandson now--what race is he, actually?  Maybe just the human race.  Whether or not he is elected President, Obama and his kind are the future, a future when truly, as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., suggested, people will be judged by the content of their character, not the color of their skin. 

Let us set our hearts and minds toward this long-awaited time of justice and reconciliation.

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