Category Archives: Antiracism

All created in God’s image

There is no crying in baseball. Everyone who has viewed A League of Their Own knows that.

There should also be no racism in baseball. Or at least as little racism as possible. And there certainly should not be racism in teams names, mascot, and imagery.

For that reason I, who have owned a home in Cleveland Heights since 1985, believe it is time for the Cleveland baseball team to change its name and mascot.

I was delighted to see, and honored to sign, a petition to Major League Baseball Commissioner Rob Manfred and the Paul Nolan, the CEO of the Cleveland team.

The petition, started by Toni Buffalo, a Lakota person of faith and a member of the United Church of Christ and posted under the name of the the Justice & Witness Ministries of the United Church of Christ states:

Our faith tradition teaches us that we are all created in God’s image. Holding on to racist images and inappropriate names only serves to injure our common humanity and to disfigure God’s image in all of us.

I urge you use your power to change the name of the Cleveland baseball team and to eliminate the use of its current mascot, Chief Wahoo.

Amen.

I signed. I hope you will too.

It is time for this change.

It is past time.

See you along the Trail.

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Celebrating Contributions and Enduring Racism: Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Heritage Month

Grace Ji-Sun Kim reflects on Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month.

gracejisunkim's avatarGrace Ji-Sun Kim

AAPIMay is Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Heritage Month.

I hope that many people will recognize AAPI contributions and also our struggles.  This is my latest Huffington Post, “Celebrating Contributions and Enduring Racism“.

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Presbyterians celebrating Asian Pacific American Heritage Month

May is Asian Pacific Heritage Month.

My friend the Rev. Laura Mariko Cheifetz is celebrating the month with a series on her blog with guest writers “from many generations, different ethnic groups, and represent the diversity of what it means to be Asian Pacific American and Presbyterian.”

Check it out!

See you along the Trail.

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17 March – each year, every year

I speak for no others,
only for myself.
For me, this day has
nothing to do with
green beer or
green rivers or
green clothing,
this day has nothing to do with
pinching me or kissing me;
my bad jokes aside,
this day has nothing to do even with Jameson.
Today is a day
to remember oppression
to honor resistance
to recognize that, despite the efforts of
systems of race and racialization
to separate us,
struggles for dignity and justice,
freedom and equality,
human rights and humanity
are inseparably linked:
none of us are free until all of us are free.
for that reason, in that spirit, and in my own fashion,
I mark this day, and each 17th of March.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Fitzgerald, from County Cork, on my mother’s side.

See you along the Trail!

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Glory, Selma, tears

On Sunday, at the First Presbyterian Church of Far Rockaway, I quoted the song “Glory” by John Legend and Common from the movie Selma.

The young people of the congregation helped lead the service. Not too long after the sermon, the dance troupe provided a liturgical dance.

As the notes to their opening song sounded over the PA system, Darnell turned to me and said, “It’s your song. It’s ‘Glory’.”

The moment led me to the conclusion I had to see Selma. When my friend Hazel proposed tea; I counter proposed we go to the movie. She agreed. We did.

I do not offer a review here, simply three observations.

  • Selma is a powerful, profound movie about the struggle to end racism in the United States. Many of the issues addressed in the movie remain with us. Some have morphed. Some stay the same. We have work to do.
  • I have been to the Edmund Pettus Bridge. I was in Greensboro, Alabama to help rebuild the Rising Star Baptist Church. It had been burned in an arson fire. The rains came. Work stopped. We went to Selma to visit the National Voting Rights Museum and Institute. After viewing the exhibits, the group went to the bridge. Some walked quickly and easily on to the bridge. I paused for prayer and reflection before I joined them on that holy ground.
  • I wept as I viewed Selma. Several times. Interestingly enough, my tears did not come during the scenes of brutality and hate, racism and violence. Those moments made me wince and broke my heart. Painful as they were, they did not elicit tears. Tears came as I watched moments of unspeakable courage, unbreakable love, and astounding grace.

I give thanks for those who lived the story told in Selma. I give thanks for those who retold the story of Selma. I give thanks for those who give of themselves today to finish the work begun so long ago.

To those who worshiped at the First Presbyterian Church of Far Rockaway, I gave homework. Listen to “Glory.”

To anyone who has read this far, I give homework. If you have not done so, listen to “Glory” and go view Selma.

See you along the Trail.

 

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Live toward the dream

On December 24, 1967, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. entered the pulpit of Ebenezer Baptist Church. Though no one realized it at the time, it would be the last Christmas Eve sermon he would preach. Just over three months later, he would be dead—another prophet murdered by those who believed that killing the dreamer would kill the dream.

His sermon that night echoed the famous words he spoke during the March on Washington. “I still have a dream.” Dr. King identified the “giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism” as the interlocking realities that violate God’s intention and deny the image of God within the human family. His dream pointed to the day when the triplets are overcome and transformed. It contained a vision of racial justice and equality, expressed a vision of poverty overcome and people working and fed, and looked toward the day when peace would reign around the world.

The dream had been tempered since 1963. Indeed, the Rev. King had seen it turn into a nightmare on various occasions and various ways. The bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham claimed the lives of four little girls and scared souls and psyches across the country. The poverty of the African-American community in the midst of America’s prosperity haunted Dr. King. The inability of the country to address effectively that poverty further tested the dream, as did the riots to which people resorted in response to the poverty. The escalating war in Vietnam—a war that consumed lives and resources and placed America on the “wrong side of a world revolution”—was yet another nightmare that challenged the Rev. King.

But after all of that, in spite of all of that, Dr. King affirmed again and again, “I still have a dream.” These are not the words of the false prophets who proclaim peace when it is clear peace is lacking. They are the words of a man who has faced hate and horror, violence and injustice and who refuses to allow them to have the final word. They are the words of a man who sees beyond what is to another reality. He knows the worst, and still he says, “I have a dream.”

How can he say that? He can because in the end, it is not his dream. It is not the Rev. King’s dream. The dream belongs to God. Dr. King is the prophet who has been grasped by God’s vision and who can do no other than to articulate that vision and live that vision.

Listen to how he expresses the dream:

“I still have a dream today that one day war will come to an end, that men will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, that nations will no longer rise up against nations, neither will they study war any more. I still have a dream today that one day the lamb and the lion will lie down together and [all] will sit under [their] own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid. I still have a dream today that one day every valley shall be exalted and every mountain and hill will be made low, the rough places will be made smooth and the crooked places straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”

Grasped by God’s vision, the Rev. King persevered. He stands in that long line of God’s servants who faced the worst life could bring with a full awareness of how bad that worst could be and who continued to follow Jesus Christ, proclaim good news, live for peace, and work for justice.

We can join that number. We too live in troubled, troubling times. We have come a significant way on the journey to racial justice. A long way remains ahead of us.

The deaths of black and brown people at the hands of the police and the failure of the justice system to indict officers lead many to affirm that #BlackLivesMatter. Racism remains embedded in the structures and systems of our society as revealed in much of the rhetoric, and in some cases the behavior, related to the debate over immigration policy. The U.S. imprisons people of color, particularly men, at an alarming rate leading Michelle Alexander to describe this mass incarceration as The New Jim Crow.

Economic disparities persist. The gap between rich and poor is growing. The economic divide between whites and people of color, particularly when measured in terms of wealth, remains wide.

Some thirty armed conflicts are taking place around the world. The United States has troops involved in a number of the conflicts.Groups and individuals turn to terror and violence to enforce their view and to seize resources.  Resources that could provide health care, support schools, rebuild infrastructure, and more are spent on war and making weapons for war.

And still with Martin, we can dream. For the dream was not Martin’s. It is not ours. The dream is God’s. And God’s dream is more real than all the reality we daily experience. God’s dream sustains us. God’s dream challenges us. God’s dream invites us out of ourselves, out of cynicism, out of pain, out of systemic injustice. God’s dream asks us to believe, to follow, and to live toward that “day when there will be peace on earth and good will toward [all]. It will be a glorious day, the morning stars will sing together, and the [children] of God will shout for joy.”

Dream on! And live toward the dream.

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On this night we gather

On this night, as we gather,

bellies spasm with hunger
winter seeps into the bones of people with no homes
thoughts turn to Syria, South Sudan and places between and beyond
people plot violence
children watch parents die of AIDS, wondering when their turn will come
relationships fray and come apart
children and women and men endure abuse
economic uncertainty undoes nations and households
walls divide people from their homes
handguns bark and blood flows
racism, sexism, heterosexism, ageism, and more
privilege some and crush life from others
drugs surge through veins to allow escape from reality’s pain
death comes calling — sometimes welcome, sometimes not
sorrow and suffering spread around the world
trouble and turmoil touch us all
evil stalks the earth

Yet
in the midst of all that
in the face of all that
in spire of all that
because of all that
on this night,

we gather

to sing and pray;
read ancient words and light candles
as we celebrate again
the birth of a child —
— nothing more and nothing less
than the every day miracle —
except that this child — this Jesus —
tells us
teaches us
shows us
life does not have to be the way it is
but that it can be filled
with
hope and
faith and
grace and
sharing and
commitment and
community and
justice and
righteousness and
well-being and
wholeness and
peace . . .
. . . on earth . . .
. . . for all!

May it be so.

(originally written for Christmas Eve 2003; adapted annually since)

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Always broken

The system is broken.

I have heard that often following the decisions of grand juries not to indict in the cases of the killing of Michael Brown and the killing of Eric Garner.

The system is broken.

Unless the speaker means she/he is just realizing that for people of color, women, immigrants, members of the LGBTQIA community, and many others, the system has always been broken, I strongly disagree with that statement.

The system was built on the institution of chattel slavery. And when that institution ended, it was replaced by Jim Crow laws that legalized segregation. And when those laws were overturned, institutionalized racism remained, expressing itself today in the New Jim Crow that results in “millions of African Americans locked behind bars and then denied rights, rights won in the struggle, and relegated to a permanent second-class status.

The system was built on indentured servitude.

The system was built on the genocide of the indigenous peoples and the theft of their resources.

The system was built on the theft of the land of Latinos/Latinas.

The system was built by controlling who could enter the country. And then providing a welcome that grudginly accepted labor but only slowly and incompletely accepted humanity.

The system was built on the view that women and children were property of men to care for, perhaps, but also to dominate and abuse and violate.

The system was built on driving people who did not fit the cisgender, heterosexual norm into closets.

The system was built to privilege a few at the expense of the many.

The system is broken. The system has always been broken.

The vision of a system that provides justice and equality for all has long been with us, perhaps always been with us. It judges and challenges the status quo. Since the beginning, there have been people who have been caught by the vision and have challenged the system, who have worked to remake it. Through their efforts, progress has occurred. I give thanks for them. I give thanks for where we have come. But significant work remains to create a system that provides justice and equality for all.

The system is broken. It has always been broken.

God grant me grace and courage to support and join those who seek to remake it.

See you along the Trail.

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Remember those who sought peace and justice

Eggs in cannonToday marks the 150th anniversary of the Sand Creek Massacre. A National Park Service press release describes the event in these words (italics added):

The Sand Creek Massacre, tragic and unnecessary, impacted Federal-Indian relations and created the circumstances for years of warfare. With the events of November 29, 1864 fixed in their minds, Plains Indian nations faced an uncertain future between warring against and accommodating the federal government.

Cheyenne and Arapaho peace chiefs [Black Kettle among them], influenced by assurances of peace at the Camp Weld Conference, reported to Fort Lyon throughout October of 1864. The fort’s commander told Black Kettle and other leaders to await a peace delegation at their camp on Sand Creek and to fly the U.S. flag to indicate their peaceful intent. Throughout November, these elders waited.

On November 29, U.S. Army (Volunteer) soldiers
[under the command of Colonel John Chivington, a Methodist minister],
 attacked the village. Disregarding the greetings and calls to stop, these “beings in the form of men” fired indiscriminately at the Cheyenne and Arapaho. Of approximately seven hundred people in the village, about two hundred died that day. Two-thirds of the dead and mutilated bodies left on the ground were women and children.

Boasting of his victory and downplaying Army casualties, Colonel John Chivington paraded the body parts of dead Cheyenne and Arapaho through the streets of Denver, reveling in the acclaim he long sought. However, not all of Chivington’s officers and men agreed with his actions, and soon the
consequences of these actions would sweep up and down the Plains, back to Washington, D.C., and into the lives of thousands of people. [Captain Silas Soule refused to order his company to fire during the massacre; he and Major Ned Wynkoop played key roles in the investigation of the massacre.]

Learn more about the Sand Creek Massacre:

Remember.

Remember those killed and wound and violated.

Remember the horror, the atrocity.

But remember also Black Kettle, who sought a just, honorable peace for his people; and remember Silas Soule, and Ned Wynkoop and the others who, in their way and fashion sought peace and justice for those touched by this day of horror.

May the day soon come when, by God’s grace, we transform weapns into implements of production and healing.

See you along the Trail.

 

 

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Advent starts at 12:01 AM (EST in the U.S.A.)

Lion and lambAdvent begins on Sunday, a time of preparation and waiting. In conversations with my son about a discipline we plan to practice together, we decided to make 12:01 AM (EST in the U.S.A.) our starting moment. That may not be liturgically sound. But it is what we choose.

What is sound, and more than sound, as a way to enter the Advent season is to read Advent/Darkness, a post by Christina Cleveland. Here are a couple of excerpts to encourage you to read her whole post:

… Advent isn’t about our best world, it’s about our worst world. …

… But we do the Light a disservice when we underestimate the darkness. Jesus entered a world plagued not only by the darkness of individual pain and sin, but also by the darkness of systemic oppression. Jesus’ people, the Hebrews, were a subjugated people living as exiles in their own land; among other things, they were silenced, targets of police brutality, and exploitatively taxed. …

… Advent is an invitation to plunge into the deep, dark waters of our worst world, knowing that when we re-surface for air we will encounter the hopeful, hovering Spirit of God …

Read Advent/Darkness, re-read, ponder, and pray.

I wish you a holy Advent and a blessed Christmas.

See you along the Trail.

 

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