Disrupted by Love

PICO California clergy leaders protest outside Otay Mesa Detention Center

On Saturday, June 23, I participated with nearly 1,000 faith leaders from across California in a march and protest at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego, a concentration camp for refugees run by a private company called CoreCivic.  Otay Mesa is a separation center, where parents are left grieving while their children are caged elsewhere. 

I was not planning to go to San Diego.  In fact, I was outside Healdsburg, CA with our parish youth group for our annual service learning trip when I received the call to go there.  I was just returning to San Francisco on Friday afternoon, and would need to fly down to San Diego and back on Saturday so that I could be at my parish on Sunday.   It felt like a huge interruption, but when I called my husband and asked, “Do you think I should go?” he responded, “You have to be there.”  He was right.

On Saturday, as we marched up to the concentration camp, the imprisoned refugees could hear our chants and prayers.  Then, we stopped and observed a moment of silence.  Suddenly, we could hear the voices of the parents inside the camp crying out, “Where are our children?  Can you tell us where they are?”  It is one thing to read about the “immigration issue.”  It is quite another thing to hear the pain in the voices of our sisters and brothers lamenting the loss of their children.  What began as an interruption in my schedule turned out to be a major disruption of my world.  I was undone by their love for their children, and by my love for them.  All I could do was stand there and weep. 

I do not know what the parents inside were experiencing.  I hope they could feel our love and solidarity with them.  I do know that some of them they were doused with pepper spray by the guards when they tried to call clergy they knew, who were participating in the protest outside.  I guess the guards didn’t appreciate the interruption. Even so, I hope the disruption was healing for the terrified parents, reassuring them that they are not alone. 

I do know that the disruption was an awakening for me.  I have heard the voices of our sisters and brothers, refugees crying out for their children.  I can no longer ignore their voices.  I can no longer be tempted by the lies that seek to brandish them as criminals.  I can no longer accept what is being done in my name.

Some need to be healed.  Some need to wake up.  What is the meaning of the disruption for you?

Pondering this question reminds me of a story in Mark’s Gospel.  Jesus is on his way to heal the daughter of Jairus, when along comes this unnamed woman, hemorrhaging blood, who interrupts his journey to call attention to her own need.  She engages Jesus in a stealth healing.  She doesn’t ask for what she needs, she just slips in and touches the hem of his garment, trusting that Jesus can provide the power she needs – and he does!  For her, this disruption is healing. 

Meanwhile, Jairus’ daughter appears to have died.  It probably doesn’t feel like a healing disruption to Jairus.  Turns out she isn’t dead after all: just sleeping.  Waiting to be awakened.   Jesus, seemingly unperturbed, moves on from the healing to the awakening.  

Healing disruptions can be a personal experience, but there is also a social and political dimension to such disruptions, and this too is a part of the Gospel story.  It is not insignificant that Jairus’ daughter is twelve years old, and that the anonymous woman with the flow of blood has been ill for twelve years.  The number twelve signals the twelve tribes of Israel.  The healing and awakening that these two women experience represents Israel’s healing and awakening. What is at stake here is the need for the whole people of God to experience a healing disruption.

Jairus is a leader of the synagogue, a person of social standing and influence. He is operating from a position of privilege, able to access the resources he needs for the sake of his daughter.  He has power to speak directly to Jesus and bring him to his home.  The unnamed, hemorrhaging woman in the crowd has no social standing or influence.  She is an outcast, rendered unclean by this continual flow of blood. She is operating out of desperation – and unshakable faith.  In her poverty, she has no home and so she takes to the streets to find Jesus.

Her interruption of Jesus and Jairus is a parable about the need for social disruptions – challenges to the way things are – so that the whole people of God can experience healing and reconciliation.  The unnamed woman is forced to take to the street to access power, and Jesus shares his power with her freely.  He declares her interruption justified and commends her initiative as the source of her healing.  She isn’t taking anything that isn’t already hers.  By simply acting on the reality of her human dignity, she claims a healing that would never have been necessary if the people of God had not treated her with such contempt and indifference in the first place.

For people like Jairus, such disruptions are a scandal and a threat to their privilege.  What Jesus tries to convey is that such disruptions are necessary for healing those who are most in need.  Otherwise, they will just continue to be exploited and ignored.  Jairus thinks this disruption can only mean loss for him – the loss of his daughter.   But she is not dead, merely sleeping.  This healing disruption is an opportunity for her – and all who fear the loss of privilege – to wake-up and acknowledge the genuine need of the poor. 

This is a parable about how disruptions of the status quo are necessary for the healing and awakening that reconciles and makes whole the entire people of God.  It profoundly challenges us to wake-up and acknowledge that our wholeness is inextricably bound up with the health and well-being of others. Until power is shared, the people of God cannot be whole.

When people take to the streets to assert their dignity and claim their power, such actions can feel like threatening disruptions, but they offer the gift of awakening to those who are willing to receive it.  The refugees at are border and in our community are disrupting the status quo because of their need for healing.  Those of us marching at Otay Mesa were disrupted by our encounter with the brutality of the status quo and are experiencing an awakening. 

Some need to be healed.  Some need to wake up.  What is the meaning of the disruption for you?

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The Courage to Love

 

The #NoJusticeNoDeal Campaign calls for police reform in San Francisco

For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.   – 2 Timothy 1:7

Last January, the annual meeting of our congregation voted unanimously to become a member congregation of Faith in Action Bay Area (FIA).  FIA is a network of more than 100 congregations and community based organizations working together to promote justice and human dignity in communities across San Francisco and San Mateo Counties.   This decision followed the recommendation of a team of St. James members who have been exploring a partnership with FIA since 2014.

Often, when we talk about faith based community organizing, we talk about what we do (work on particular issues or campaigns) and how we do it (educational forums, voter engagement, meeting with public officials, press conferences, protests), but we rarely talk about why we do it.  We fail to address the heart of the matter.  Different people may explain why they do this work in various ways, but for me it boils down to this:  I want to love more courageously. 

The summer of 2013 was a turning point for me.  In July, a Florida jury found George Zimmerman not guilty of the murder of Trayvon Martin.  I had paid attention to the case, because it touched on my own fears for the safety of my son, then 15 years-old, who could easily have been Trayvon: a black kid living in a neighborhood where many people might have thought he didn’t belong. 

I was appalled that an unarmed 17 year-old could be stalked and shot dead with impunity.  When the NAACP in San Francisco called for a rally outside of City Hall to protest the verdict, my husband and I attended.  It was a pitiful rally in terms of turnout; less than 100 people.  Few of the participants where white, and I was the only white clergy person I could see.  I knew black folks who had showed up for immigrant rights.  I knew black folks who had showed up for marriage equality.  Who was showing up for them?  That was when I knew that I had to start showing up.

I showed up because I love my son.  All organizing work for justice is rooted in love.  Who or what do you love enough to fight for?  I realized I had to have the courage to stand up against racism if my love for my son was to have any meaning.  I needed folks who could help me to find that courage and express it in ways consistent with the energy of love.  That is how I found my way to Faith in Action Bay Area, organizing for justice and human dignity.  Justice is what love looks like in public.

After Ferguson, Missouri was disrupted by the murder of Michael Brown, I traveled there with other clergy from FIA and heard the stories of people in that community.  I began to make connections.  What began as an impulse of love launched me into a web of relationships I could not have otherwise anticipated or imagined.  Coming home, I began to hear stories of people in San Francisco directly affected by the racism of the criminal justice system. 

As I listen to the stories of people living in contexts different from my own, I begin to see them.  Their stories changed my perception of the world.  The first revolution is internal; a softening of the heart that allows us to absorb more of reality. I was disrupted by their pain and struggle, and by the acknowledgement of my own privilege; together, we began to imagine the possibility of a world without racism. 

This is what faith-based organizing work is fundamentally about: building relationships, building the beloved community across the usual divides of religion, race, class and gender.  My internal conversation about who I love developed into conversations with other concerned parents of children of color; which grew into a team of people building trust to fight against racism in the criminal justice system; which expanded into a base of people, a movement working to change laws and implement police reforms.  Finally, it had to include elected officials who have the power to make change.  We had to talk with them to learn how to leverage our collective power to make the changes we needed to protect our kids. 

This is basically what Jesus did his entire ministry.  He got clear about God’s will for him and the work he was called to do in the world.  He traveled all around the Galilee listening to people’s stories, coming close to the pain in their communities.  He gathered a team to make change, to teach, and to heal; to turn despair, isolation, and fear into a powerful community.  He engaged the religious and political leaders of his day in often difficult and even confrontational conversations.  In solidarity with those he loved, he was executed by the state for resisting evil.  And from his sacrifice, he gave life to a movement that is still setting the world on fire with God’s love.

Faith based community organizing is about finding the courage to love.  It isn’t about this or that issue.  It isn’t even about winning.  It is about building relationships so that we can claim our power as the people of God, who has not given us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power, and of love, and of self-discipline.  We can become the people we need to be, so that we can realize God’s dream for the world; if we have the courage to love.

Subverting the Apocalyptic Imagination: Three Imperatives for Living in History

Our Scripture readings today match the mood of much of the country: apocalyptic!  While the election results are not exactly the end of the world, they do mark the end of an era.  We’ve never seen a nationalist populism of this kind dominate a once mainstream political party and achieve electoral college success.  This election season was marked by an unprecedented level of vulgarity, vitriol, deceit and pure hatred.  There is nearly universal uncertainty about the future and more than a little fear. 

Apocalyptic reflects this moment, not simply because of its association with convulsive transitions, but also because of the worldview with which it is associated.  At the heart of the apocalyptic imagination is a perception of reality marked by a series of binary oppositions:  a cosmic dualism between heaven and earth, a temporal dualism between this age and the age to come, which will begin with the destruction of this age, and a social dualism between good people and evil people.[i]  Apocalyptic is about polarization and its tension, a tension that can be overcome only by the utter annihilation of one of the poles:  heaven will displace earth when this evil age and its people are destroyed.

This is clearly expressed in the text from the prophet Malachi this morning:

See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of hosts . . .[ii]

Please note that this kind of thinking is not limited to images of that mean “Old Testament” god.  We find it also in the New Testament’s second letter to the Thessalonians:

For it is indeed just of God to repay with affliction those who afflict you, and to give relief to the afflicted as well as to us, when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus.[iii]

The apocalyptic imagination is one thread within the biblical traditions, but it is not the only or ultimate perspective.  Jesus offers a very different take on apocalyptic. While it is true that Jesus takes over the language of apocalyptic, he turns it to a very different purpose, subverting its meaning from within.   “Apocalyptic” literally means “revelation” or “unveiling.”  In his teaching and practice, Jesus collapses the polarities of the apocalyptic imagination to reveal what is really going on. 

This is most evident in Jesus’ practice of inclusive table fellowship, his healing of outcasts, and his parabolic reversals of insiders and outsiders.  The polarity between good and evil people is undone by the forgiving love of a God who makes the rain to fall on the righteous and on the unrighteous.  There is judgment and condemnation of evil, but in the service of a larger wholeness.

Similarly, the polarity between heaven and earth is undone by the prayer that God’s will be done on earth as in heaven.  Heaven and earth are correlated dimensions of reality, overlapping if you will.  The kingdom of heaven is “at hand,” it is within and among you.  It is not the destruction of earth and flight to heaven for which we hope, but rather a new heaven and earth emerging from the transfiguration of present reality. 

Finally, the polarity between the present age and the age to come is elided by a sense of continuity between past, present, and future held in an eternal now.  The emphasis is less on a rupture between the present age and the age to come, than it is on the age to come invading the present age, so to speak, and subverting it from within: like leaven in the dough.  Justice rises to fill the whole, but only after it does can we eat the bread of reconciliation.  There is no reconciliation without justice.  There is no cheap grace in Jesus’ teaching or practice – it comes at the cost of any claim to privilege or self-sufficiency -  but that grace is available here and now as well as then and there.[iv] 

So when Jesus speaks of wars and uprisings and natural disasters, he is not evoking a cataclysmic end time, but rather the difficult reality of history and its very gradual, sometimes barely perceptible, leavening by God’s gracious work in and through us.  He is clear that the “end” will not follow immediately.  In fact, he warns us against those who claim the end is near.  He goes on to note that nation will be raised upon nation and kingdom upon kingdom (not nation against nation):  that is to say, nations will rise and fall, but that isn’t the end of the world.[v]  Empires, political parties, leaders come and go – don’t freak out about it.  Don’t be fascinated by those who manipulate the fear and uncertainty inherent in such moments of upheaval. 

Notice something else that is unusual about Jesus’ evocation of apocalyptic imagery:  the violence, which is real, is purely a human phenomenon.  It has nothing to do with divine vengeance.  Jesus assumes – even warns – his disciples that, rather than being triumphant beneficiaries of such violence, they will be its victims.  They will arrest you and persecute you.  You will be imprisoned and brought before kings and governors because of your loyalty to the way of Jesus.  You will be hated, betrayed by members of your own family. 

It is here that the apocalyptic imagination is turned on its head.  Jesus adopts the perspective of victims, from the underside of history.  What is unveiled or revealed is the innocence of history’s victims and the mendacity of our violent culture constructed of mutually exclusive binary opposites.  God is not the source of this violence, but rather the gracious energy of love that witnesses for justice no matter what the cost, for the sake of a reconciliation that lies ahead of us.  The arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice. 

When Jesus counsels us to love our enemies and to pray for them, he also instructs us to find creative, nonviolent ways to shift the balance of power in society in ways that protect the vulnerable.[vi]  Jesus is not naïve.  He knows there are enemies of the Gospel.   He knows history is a long slog.  But he also reveals a resource against the violent rulers of this and every age:  the power of God that flows through those willing to receive it and bear witness to it. 

This election is not the end of the world.  It is one more moment in the long evolution of human consciousness into the fullness of Christ consciousness.  In becoming human in Christ Jesus, God revealed the true meaning of history: the unfathomable love of God for all that She has created and redeemed.  Nothing can ultimately stand against the power of this love.  In bearing witness to this truth, Jesus outlines three imperatives for living in history.[vii]

“Watch, that you may not be lead astray.”  This is the contemplative imperative:  cultivate the capacity to pay attention.  Listen to the still small voice within.  Listen to the wisdom of the body and of the earth.  Embrace the discerning wisdom that comes from the practice of listening, allowing us to touch into the reality of God’s presence so as to shape our perception of reality.  Silent prayer is the taproot of wisdom to read the signs of the times.  Plenty of fools throughout history have claimed “I am he, only I can save you.”  Don’t believe it for a minute.

“Put it into your hearts not to prepare a defense ahead of time.”  This is the trust imperative. We will be called before the court of history to defend its victims.  Our first responsibility is to protect the vulnerable.  This inevitably gets us into trouble with those in power who exploit the vulnerable.  The question is not if we will need to testify, but how we will do it.  Jesus says, “Don’t worry about it.”  Don’t prepare ahead of time, anxious about getting it right.  It isn’t about being persuasive, or manipulating others, or even “winning” in the conventional sense.  It is about solidarity and truth-telling.

Finally, “In your patience, possess your souls.”  This is a more accurate rendering of the somewhat misleading translation, “By your endurance you will gain your souls.”[viii] It isn’t a quid pro quo:  if you endure, you will be saved.  It is an instruction about how to conduct ourselves as witnesses for God in history:  with dignity, not frenzy; guarding your soul’s integrity, not selling it to the highest bidder.  It can be tempting, in the real struggle for justice in history, to sell our soul to the devil, to become the evil we resist.  Don’t lose your soul, not even to gain the world.  The world already belongs to God.  You don’t need to mirror evil.  This is the integrity imperative.

Pay attention.  Trust God.  Guard your soul.

In the days ahead, we must resist the cynical manipulation of the masses by the demagogue de jour.  That much is obvious.  We must also resist the temptation to retreat to tend our little garden, refusing the risks of engagement with public life.  We will be called to bear witness, says Jesus.  If not now, then when? 

There is also another temptation we must resist – the call to a premature “unity” that seeks a rush to reconciliation without justice in the name of a sincere, but misguided idea of love of our enemies.  Writing in Germany in the early 1940’s, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a leader of the Confessing Church who cooperated with the German resistance to the Nazi regime, describes such misguided love in this way:

“It rests on evaluating human beings according to their dormant values – the health, reasonableness, and goodness deep beneath the surface . . . With forced tolerance, evil is reinterpreted as good, meanness is overlooked, and the reprehensible is excused.  For various reasons one shies away from a clear No, and finally agrees to everything.  One loves a self-made picture of human beings that has little similarity to reality, and one ends up despising the real human being whom God has loved and whose being God has taken on.”[ix]

We are entering into a dark period of our history.  The shadow side of the American psyche is in the ascendant, unleashing the racism and misogyny, the fear of the other, that always has been a part of our national life.  Those who have long been its victims are not surprised by the outcome of this election.  I wish it were otherwise. I wish I could paint a rosier picture, but only an honest appraisal of the situation can offer us a way forward.  Pay attention.  Trust God.  Guard your soul.  Let our “No” be loud and clear.  Anything less betrays contempt for the very people and earth that we claim to love in the name of Jesus.    

Our victory comes from God, and the Spirit is the source of the wisdom and power we need to respond to the vicissitudes of history.  We must follow Jesus in the subversion of the apocalyptic imagination.  This is our opportunity to testify.

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[i] James Alison, Raising Abel: The Recovery of the Eschatological Imagination (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1996), p. 124.

[ii] Malachi 4:1.

[iii] II Thessalonians 1:6-7.

[iv] Alison, p. 125-130.

[v] Mark Davis, “How Not to Prepare for Catastrophe” at http://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com/2013/11/how-not-to-prepare-for-catastrophe.html.

[vi] Luke 6:27-36.

[vii] Luke 21: 7-19.

[viii] Davis, op cit. 

[ix] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2005), p. 87.

There are no disposable people

 Remarks at the Faith in Action Affordable Housing Action

May 11, 2016

by the Rev. John Kirkley

As we gather to reflect on the housing crisis in our city, I want to place our policy discussion within the context of our common life.  Housing policy should not be developed in a vacuum.  It should be driven by grassroots, citizen engagement in the larger questions of who we are and what we value.  What kind of community do we want to be?  How do we preserve the things that we value, those things that make San Francisco worth living in, even as we welcome new people to our city?  What is the moral vision that informs – and when necessary, constrains –  our political judgments and policy choices?

I’ve been part of a multicultural, interfaith group of San Francisco clergy leaders who have been reflecting on these questions.  I want to share with you the values that shape our moral vision, uniting us across a wide spectrum of identity and belief.  I invite you to consider these values as a set of criteria by which we might evaluate the various proposals we will hear tonight. 

To begin, we affirm that all human beings are created by God, equally deserving of respect, dignity and opportunity. In light of this, housing is a basic human need and a fundamental human right. It is not a privilege. This means a minimum baseline of safe, affordable housing should be available to everyone.  There are no exceptions.  There are no disposable people.

We also value being part of a community that is inclusive and diverse.   We are rightly proud of San Francisco’s rich history of being a place of refuge for immigrants, refugees, queers, artists, cultural creatives - and, yes, entrepreneurs.  We fear that San Francisco is becoming a tale of two cities – one for the extremely wealthy, and one for everyone else.  Do we want San Francisco to be an exclusive enclave of the rich, or an inclusive community that celebrates human diversity?

The median home price in San Francisco is around $1.1 million. One bedroom apartments rent for $3.4K/month and two bedrooms for $4.65K/month. Meanwhile, the average household income of San Franciscans is $83,000.

Think about that. To afford to buy a home here, you need an average household income of about $254K/year and a down payment of $240K. Only 11% of San Franciscans can afford to buy a home at these prices.  Renting isn't any easier, given that a household of average means would spend 67% of its pre-tax income on rent for a two-bedroom unit.  Part of the problem is that in the past five years, the City has not built nearly enough new housing to meet the demands of job and population growth. More building and greater density is part of the solution.

However, the housing that is being built is overwhelmingly luxury housing for the 11% who can afford it, because that is where the money is to be made. Some of that housing lies empty, because it is purchased by investors simply as a place to park money rather than house people.  What about the other 89% of us who can’t afford this housing?

Poor and middle-class households are being displaced at an alarming rate, especially in communities of color. This means that teachers, nurses, social workers, clergy, artists, police officers, and paramedics cannot afford to live here. Even tech workers are beginning to be priced out, especially once they have kids. Forget about it if you work in service industries.

Homelessness is an extreme form of displacement.  People living in homeless encampments are among the most vulnerable in our community.  They, too, need to be integrated into the fabric of our city in ways that respect their dignity as human beings.  People need to have basic shelter and safety needs met before other needs such as health care, education and employment can be addressed adequately.

We value human dignity and community diversity.  We also value sustainable communities:  communities that are capable of caring for people and the places they live over the long haul.  Such care requires two things:  time and love.  People who love their community are motivated to care for it, to preserve its vitality and integrity, and not simply exploit it for short term personal gain. 

Long term residents with deep roots and strong social ties are an irreplaceable form of social capital.  We squander such capital at our peril.  Tech cycles go boom and tech cycles go bust.  People who love this city, and the rich fabric of families, neighborhoods, schools, congregations, small businesses, arts and activist groups that they sustain, are the common wealth that enriches us all. 

It is time for people of faith and all people of good will to speak up for the values of community, compassion, and sustainability.  It is time for our housing policies – and our public policies generally – to reflect a moral vision.  That can only happen if you and I are actively engaged in the development of those policies, and hold our city officials accountable for ensuring that they reflect our values. Thank you for being here tonight.  May we challenge each other to continue the difficult but meaningful work of creating a San Francisco for all people.

Justice Summit: Race and Reform

 Some take aways from today's Justice Summit on Race and Reform of the Criminal Justice System in San Francisco:

1. Implicit bias is a huge issue at all points in the legal system - from stops, to arrests, to bail setting, to conviction and sentencing. African-Americans are 6% of the population of San Francisco, but constitute 47% of arrests and 56% of the jail population. Black youth are 50 times more likely to be arrested than white youth in SF. Similar disparities in bail setting and sentencing for the same crime exist as well. It is isn't just a problem with police officers, but with prosecutors and judges too. The problem is SYSTEMIC.

2. Police abuse of power and corruption is ubiquitous. It is a function of the monopoly on the justified use of force that comes with the office. Some of the problem is racism, some of it the problem is sheer psychopathology - some cops are just equally opportunity bullies. Those folks just need to be weeded out. Period. The problem is that the system as it is now structured is reactive rather than proactive about this necessary weeding.

3. Racism is structural - it is not about personal prejudices per se, but about how we are all socialized to associate certain negative and positive qualities with particular racial groups regardless of individual differences, and the way in which those associations work to privilege some groups and not others. Here is the news: black cops share much of the same racial bias against black folks as white cops; same for lawyers and judges. Hiring more black police officers is a necessary but not sufficient part of the solution: we all need to be trained to recognize and account for our implicit biases.

Solutions . . .

1. Implicit bias training on an ongoing basis should be required of all law enforcement professionals - from beat cops to Federal judges.

2. Stats must be kept on the racial demographics of people stopped, arrested, and killed by police; as well as the racial demographics of bail hearings, convictions, and sentencing. This is the only objective tool at our disposal to look at patterns of bias. Such stats should be required by law.

3. Transparency - complaints against police officers and the outcome of investigations by independent community review boards should be a matter of public record. Yes, that means sunshine laws should apply to police just like any other public official or professional. Such complaints and outcomes are a matter of public record for professionals like stock brokers and certified financial advisors. Such accountability should come with the enormous responsibility and public trust that comes with being given a monopoly on violence in our society. If you don't want to be accountable - don't become a cop.

4. Police officers should be required - and provided the wherewithal - to live in the communities they serve. Personally, I think this is even more important than requiring police to use video cameras. It is about building relationships and a sense of connection to a place. Video cameras do provide an important level of accountability, but they don't foster relationship or break down the us vs. them dynamic of too much police work. I know as a parish priest what a difference living in the community I serve has made to my work.

5. Everybody in San Francisco - D.A., Sheriff, Public Defender, Police Command staff - all think requiring video cameras as part of the police uniform, recording all interactions with the public, is a good idea. It protects police as well as the public. The D.A. wants to require videotapes of arrests to accompany each police report. I'm a little more nervous about the growth of the surveillance society - even if Big Brother is watching Big Brother. I'm waiting to see if it actually leads to different outcomes.

A big shout out to San Francisco Public Defender Jeff Adachi and his office for hosting this important public conversation.

Reason for Hope

There are seven reasons why I’m hopeful despite the heart-breaking travesties of justice we have witnessed in Missouri, New York, Ohio, California and countless other places around the country, as police officers continue to kill black boys and men with impunity.   Those reasons are:

·      Ashley Yates, Millennial Activists United

·      Rasheen Aldridge, Young Activists St. Louis

·      Brittany Packnett, St. Louis educator and activist

·      T-Dubb-O, St. Louis hip-hop artist

·      James Hayes, Ohio Students Association

·      Phillip Agnew, Dream Defenders

·      Jose Lopez, Make the Road New York      

These seven brilliant young leaders met with President Obama on December 1, 2014 to push for positive steps to address the criminal abuse of power on the part of police in our country.  The offered a series of common sense proposals that should be enacted immediately:

·      The federal government using its power to prosecute police officers that kill or abuse people.

·      Removing local district attorneys from the job of holding police accountable, and instead having independent prosecutors at the local level charged with prosecuting officers.

·      The establishment of community review boards that can make recommendations for police misconduct, instead of allowing police departments to police themselves.

·      Defunding local police departments that use excessive force or racially profile. Instead of having the Department of Justice (DOJ) wholesale giving more than $250 million to local police departments annually, DOJ should only fund departments that agree to adopt DOJ best practices for training and meaningful community input.

·      The demilitarization of local police departments.

·      Investing in programs that provide alternatives to incarceration, such as community-led restorative justice programs and community groups that educate people about their rights.

President Obama met with these young people because he could no longer ignore the movement for justice they are igniting around the country.  They recognize that the problem is not a few “bad” cops.  The problem is a broken criminal justice system that is designed to protect its own and is structured in such a way as to reinforce white privilege.  The issue isn’t personal prejudice but systemic racism.  We have to change the system.

One of the consequences of the age of social media, smart phones, and instant communications is that police jurisdictions can no longer sustain the lie that police misconduct is a function of the occasional rogue cop.  What might have been passed off as a local anomaly in the past is now revealed to be part of a persistent and invidious pattern of unequal justice, excessive use of force, and corrupt cronyism among police and prosecutors.  We are discovering that what is happening in my city is not unique.  Ferguson is everywhere.

African Americans have, of course, always known this.  What is different now is that white people must grapple with this truth.  It is creating enormous cognitive dissonance as white people struggle to square their belief in the legitimacy of the criminal justice system with the evidence of their own eyes and ears.  We are in a moment of tremendous disorientation in white America, not unlike the response to television images of Birmingham police attacking peaceful protestors with dogs and fire hoses during the 1963 Southern Christian Leadership Conferences’ civil rights campaign there. 

That campaign exposed injustice for the entire world to see, and galvanized passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, The Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the Fair Housing Act of 1968.  The new civil rights movement being energized by the young leaders who met with President Obama has the same potential today. 

This movement is providing a great service to white America.  It is providing us with the opportunity to wake-up: to cleanse the lens of perception and see more clearly the reality of racism.  It is also issuing a call to repentance: to change our minds and bring our actions into conformity with the demands of justice.  The new civil rights movement is offering us the gift of wholeness.

In this season of Advent, these young leaders are our collective “John the Baptist” crying out in the wilderness.  Mike Huckabee referred to them as thugs.  I call them prophets. I’m hopeful that white America will listen to them, and not to the Herods and Huckabees.