Remembering George Floyd:
An Open Letter to my White (Church)
Brethren who Reached Out
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? …Don’t be
afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Jesus. Matthew 10: 29-30)
Dear Brethren: (I use the term for brevity. I also mean sistren). The
pain-filled days since George Floyd was brutally killed by a White Police
Officer have been a roller coaster of emotions for all of us. I have felt the
solace of your comforting words as I grieved for another Black man cut down in
his prime by a system that was supposed to protect him, a man that could just
as easily have been my son; my brother; or my friend.
We have confessed to each other the anger we feel; the frustration; the
helplessness that so often threatens hope. You have summoned grace in the face
of times when the Black mother and Resister in me probably made you uncomfortable.
You understood. And you pressed in. As one of you said in an email to me: “We
could see and hear your heart breaking. And seeing you suffer broke our hearts
too. How deep and prolonged your suffering has been. We are so
sorry for that heartache and horror you and other [Black people] have had to endure.”
I have seen your tears. Heard your pleas for forgiveness for what you
described as “generational racism” within yourself and in your family lines. You
have pledged to yourselves and to God to challenge racist comments and
behaviors in your private spheres of influence; your homes; your dinner parties;
your social groups; your golf and country clubs.
You honored my request to hold 85 seconds of silence, marking in seconds the
number of minutes Derek Chauvin suffocated George Floyd. You even joined
me in my seemingly incongruous request to listen to Amazing Grace on bagpipes
afterwards.
You have endorsed my push-back against those who feel Black lives are worth less than that of a sparrow. You have watched and shared Facebook posts and YouTube videos of Barack Obama and others calling for justice in a seemingly leaderless society.
s you have wrestled with your own White Privilege you have shared words that are helping you understand, such as an excerpt from your friend’s poem that speaks to “the abuse of black people who live in fear; weaponizing white women; white supremacy exposed; racial profiling. All the big and small ways we show prejudice…”
You have endorsed my push-back against those who feel Black lives are worth less than that of a sparrow. You have watched and shared Facebook posts and YouTube videos of Barack Obama and others calling for justice in a seemingly leaderless society.
s you have wrestled with your own White Privilege you have shared words that are helping you understand, such as an excerpt from your friend’s poem that speaks to “the abuse of black people who live in fear; weaponizing white women; white supremacy exposed; racial profiling. All the big and small ways we show prejudice…”
What does Peace Look Like?
My friends, you have opened
yourselves to my fierce rejection of assumptions on what Love looks like to an oppressed people…on the rage that has boiled
over. You have eschewed making protesters’ rage a counterpoint to Love. You
have put Peace in the spotlight. “I know the Lord calls us to love our enemies
and foster peace”, one of you said. “But I am left wondering what kind of fierce
peace is needed to break the bonds of racially motivated hatred. What
kind of peace can erase a hatred that is so ugly and twisted and persistent? How
do we wage peace together?”
Amidst your own solidarity with my community, I have seen your inner
struggle with that question as you have sought to reconcile how to ‘wage peace’
while standing with Black people against our implacable enemy, White supremacy. I
have sensed your worry about people returning hate for hate.
I knew you were thinking of the street looting that accompanied some of
the protests after George Floyd was killed. I knew where you were coming from
as pacifists. So I wrote the following to some of you:
“To be honest, I’m not worried about hate. Who
would I hate? [Four] cops I have never met? The media that minimize these
incidents? Donald Trump? Nameless, faceless White Christians who support the
system and refuse to stand with us? The energy it would take to hate all those
people would kill me. My soul hurts because of a system that has persevered for
hundreds of years and shows no sign of changing. For the countless Black lives
it has devoured.”
I
appreciate you reaching out and your willingness to sit in the discomfort of,
for some of you, your newly-realized White privilege. That's because in so doing you have validated
my belief that true Christ-followers empathize with my people (look how
Supremacy ended his earthly life!).
At George Floyd’s funeral Steve Wells, a White Baptist pastor spoke
directly to Mr. Floyd’s family. He thanked them for the privilege
of speaking. He then added (I paraphrase): “You could have told me that you don’t
want to hear from White people today…that we have stayed quiet for so long, we should
stay quiet now. But you didn’t.”
Pastor Wells then addressed his fellow White Christians. He said
(paraphrased): ‘You have to take up the
work. Racism did not start in our lifetime but it can end in our lifetime...Put
a note on your mirror. Every morning ask yourself, what can I do
today to end racism? And every night ask yourself, was I true today to the calling?’
Your road, my brethren, is just beginning. But stay the course. Keep the
lights on. Stand with us.
In Solidarity.
