New Haven Register (Sunday) (New Haven, CT)
The power is in our hands, if we will it
These days, the most common description of how people are feeling is “overwhelmed.”
There is so much uncertainty, so much fear and pain, so much anxiety and anger. The year 2020 was one of upheaval. A pandemic threatened our very lives, causing us to take shelter in our homes, to keep apart from our families and friends, and to wear masks that obscure our identities and emotions.
The economy crashed, and levels of poverty and unemployment have reached crisis proportions. And again, racism came to stare us full in the face. Our
leaders were revealed to be inept at best— cynical and uncaring at worst. Our democratic way of life is threatened, leaving us to wonder whether the principles upon which our country was founded will be trampled by avarice and leaders who seem bent on holding onto power.
Only at such a time as this, we are asked, “does faith matter?” How so, I wondered? Our community represents different theological perspectives. The image we hold of the divine is unique to our traditions. We use different language. Our rituals are not the same.
I would like to suggest that what I’ve witnessed lately, in the rallies for justice, is a journey of faith that many in our country are on. Black Lives Matter is first and foremost a cry for justice to end the discrimination and suffering that has for four centuries afflicted our Black and brown neighbors and family — but that I would suggest is more. When George Floyd called out for his life, I heard the divine challenge to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” Just as with the Cain, the Minneapolis policeman responded, “I do not know, am I my brother’s keeper?” And God answered, “What have you done? Your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!”
We hear that cry. As people of faith, we, too, cry. We cry because we are not numb on the inside. As Cornel West reminded us, “Jeremiah cried. Jesus cried
— and we cry.” Indeed, we cry for our beloved country like Alan Paton. “We cry for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear,” Paton wrote. We cry because for too long “we stood idly by the blood of our neighbor,” from generation to generation. We cry because we see that when we ignore racism and the system that perpetuates it, we are complicit.
But faith matters. Tears are not sufficient. Acknowledging “white privilege” is not enough. Staying in our homes while others have no home is not enough. Voting for leaders who will promote the general welfare and be models of decency, humanity and righteousness is insufficient. We must actively determine what progress we make or not. We must fix the world and help complete the work of creation. As people of faith, the power is in our hands if we will it. And why would we do that? Because we have faith that we can. We must. We march not to destroy but to build God’s world. This is what our faith calls us to do.
The poet Rabindranath Tagore wrote: “I slept and dreamt/ that life was joy. I awoke and saw/ that life was duty. I worked — and behold/ duty was joy.” Faith matters.