Responding to violence and despondancy

A week ago this past Wednesday, 16 people - pastoral leaders, Leadership Team members, and retired teaching elders - gathered for lunch at Pebble Hill Presbyterian Church to talk about
ways to address the horrific acts of violence that took place in Baton Rouge, St. Paul, and Dallas. We all continue to reel at the seemingly relentless onslaught of these kinds of stories happening in our nation, let alone around the world. It seemed imperative that our Presbytery offer a venue to at least begin some discussions and reflections on possible ways to respond as a people of faith.

What occurred during this two-hour conversation was prayer, reflection, and sharing. We
talked about our hopes and dreams. We acknowledged our own complicity in instances of
racism. Many of the pastors present shared ways in which last Sunday's lectionary texts
fit so incredibly well - providentially even, one might say - in helping them address the
current situation. The passage from Amos 7 (including reference to God's plumb line in the
midst of the people), coupled with the Gospel passage from Luke 10 (about the Good
Samaritan...that "social outcast" who fulfilled God's law of compassion for beyond the
indifference of the religious leaders of the community) provided rich opportunities for
reflection.

To me, an interesting way in which the lunch conversation developed was that it quickly
went beyond possible responses to specific acts of violence and racism, to a discussion
about the whole tenor of our society, of social dialogue, of dividing walls in our nation that
seem to be increasingly unbreachable, of the climate of fear that so pervades almost
everything today...including fear in the Church (we're losing members, we don't have
money, we can't afford a full-time pastoral leader, where are all the youth, etc., etc.).
Out of the conversations together on Wednesday, a few things became clear to all of us
who were present.

First, one of the preeminent theological themes in our Reformed tradition is that of grace.
God's grace is extended to us. That's symbolized most powerfully when we baptize
infants; God's grace comes to us even before we are able to understand or respond or
even accept it. And if God's grace is extended to us, it is extended to everyone,
everywhere.

Second, we acknowledged that some fear is good, even essential. Fear is a basic human
response to danger, and its purpose is to keep us safe. Fear of the Lord is essential in
helping us remember that we are accountable to God for the decisions we make, the words
we use, the actions we perform (or fail to perform). At the same time, the phrase "do not be
afraid" occurs again and again throughout Scripture. We must never let fear control us,
rule us, shape how we live our lives. One of the other great Reformed themes is an
emphasis on the providence of God. Through the worst of times and events, we can trust
that God's love and compassion and justice will prevail. Always! That doesn't excuse any
inaction on our part. In fact, that should spur us on to faithful participation in the work of
God in our world and in our lives. However, trusting in the Lord allows us not to be
paralyzed or overcome by events.

Finally, as we went around the room with different ones telling some of our own stories and
experiences, we realized that telling our stories is incredibly powerful. Telling our stories
opens us to the need for confession and repentance. Telling our stories helps others
understand a bit more about us, and listening to others' stories helps us understand them.
It is in the telling of stories that we see each other as fellow human travelers in this world,
we see each other as children of God, we see each other as individuals, not as a
representative token of any one group (racial minority, privileged individual, police, rich,
poor, immigrant, educated, uneducated, etc.).

It's easy to become overwhelmed by the magnitude of the tragedies that we hear about
again and again, all too frequently. And it can feel disempowering when we think the whole
society's problems are ours to fix and make right. What we can do, perhaps what we must
do, is simply begin by telling our stories, and by listening to others' stories. It is the silence
that kills and condemns us. It is speaking and acting together, with those right around us,
that can begin to shine light in a world of frightening shadows. And perhaps one of the
things our worshiping communities can offer is to provide a safe place for such
conversations to take place.

Let's begin. Together.