In a class on systematic theology last spring we were instructed to write a credo, a summation of what we personally believed in our faith. Part of the instructions for the assignment were to make evident what we held as non-negotiables, that is, things/ideas/beliefs which we refused to give up or discard because of their centrality to our faith and, perhaps even more importantly, our person. Since then, as I continue to work on other projects, I keep that lesson in the forefront of my thoughts. What things am I unwilling to surrender? What do I feel deep down in my bones must be held onto with fierce determination? It is not simply that I feel that they must be true, truth being so indeterminate at times, but rather that I must cling to them as if they are true even in face of the possibility that they might not be. What beliefs are so vital to who I am as a person that to let them go would mean a loss of who I am and who I wish myself to be?
One of my non-negotiables is the inherent worth and preciousness of life in all its various forms. Let me explain this a little further. First, by inherent worth I mean this: Life, by the very fact that it is life, has value. Life, struggling, wriggling toward the sun, scraping away at the earth to find sustenance, fighting to continue on despite the constant threat of breaking back down into the chaos from which it came, is precious. It must be cherished. More than any other god or deity, life itself is holy. It seems funny in a way that we all struggle so much to come close to that which we set aside as holy or sacred. We put the holy off into sacred spaces, into niches, into tabernacles, into chapels, into cathedrals, synagogues, and mosques. In doing so we blind ourselves to the immediate presence of what is truly holy. What is most holy is what is nearest to us.
Secondly, by life in all its various forms I mean this: There can, in the end, be no division or system of classification by which we give more or less value to living things. All living things possess equal inherent value by the fact that they are living. All life, from the microscopic up to human beings, is sacred. I will admit this is troublesome when being applied. Nonetheless, in all our actions, we must, even when it comes time to take another life for the continuation of our selves, recognize the value of the life which we are consuming or destroying. And in doing so, in giving equal weight to all life, we create an ethic which itself is worthy of the tasks in which it is to be employed. If we ignore the importance and weight of the smallest things, how will we be able to understand and appreciate those of greater things? Can there be any wonder that when we overlook, whether out of ignorance or indifference, the worth and the suffering of the least of these, that we find ourselves overlooking the worth and the suffering of our fellow humans. There is a direct connection between the indifference to nature and the indifference to other persons. (As a side note, I find it strange that some of those who are the most outspoken in the pro-life camp on the issue of abortion are the most eager to pull the switch when it comes to the execution of persons guilty of capital offenses.)
As I sat there at the traffic light, still red at this point, I watched the last and largest of the three dogs wriggle and struggle to get under the fence. At that moment the light changed to green and traffic began moving. I paused a moment, trying to decide in that split second whether to begin moving or to wait for this dog to get under the fence and follow its companions. I decided to go ahead and drive on, feeling guilty. As I moved on and made my turn at the intersection I proceeded slowly, looking out the side window and saw with relief that the last dog had finally succeeded in getting under the fence. A car in line behind me had stopped to let the dog run safely across the road to catch up with its companions.
The dogs I encountered this morning are probably of little worth to most people. Most likely they will either be hit by a car sometime or rounded up by animal control where they will be taken to the pound, caged, and in all likelihood euthanized. In that moment though, I saw in them nobility. Abandoned either at birth or born in the open, the three had somehow managed to find each other and form a pack. Their life is not easy, and certainly it is unfair, especially for animals, bred by humans to be pets, pushed to the side, yet still struggling because they are alive. I don’t have the right words to describe it all, that mix of emotion and spirit that occurred for me this morning. Spirit is fitting though, because in all of this, I can say with some certainty that is what I felt afterwards. These days it is very difficult for me to define God. But in ways I can point toward it, and say God is in this or that thing or over in that direction. And I can point to this event, this scrambling of stray dogs (and also in the driver behind me who stopped to let the last one pass safely in front of them) and say God is in that; that the spirit of Life and God was very present this morning on an intersection between a gas station and a golf course.
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In a class I am taking this semester we discussed the issue of white privilege. White privilege is, as defined by Peggy McIntosh, “an invisible package of unearned assets which I can count on cashing in on each day, but about which I was ‘meant’ to remain oblivious. White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools, and blank checks.” She further describes that “as a white person, I realized I had been taught about racism as something which puts other at a disadvantage, but had been taught not to see one of its corollary aspects, white privilege, which puts met at an advantage.” She goes on to list some examples of white privilege such as:
- “I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see
people of my race widely and positively represented.”
- “I can go into a
supermarket and find the staple foods which fit with my cultural traditions,
into a hairdresser’s shop and find someone who can cut my hair.”
- “ I can
swear, or dress in secondhand clothes, or not answer letters without having
people attribute these choices to the bad morals, the poverty, or the illiteracy
of my race.
- “I can do well in a challenging situation without being called
a credit to my race.”
- “I am never asked to speak for all the people of my
racial group.”
- “I can easily buy posters, postcards, picture books,
greeting cards, dolls, toys, and children’s magazines featuring people of my
race.”
- “I can choose blemish cover or bandages in “flesh” color and have
them more or less match my skin.”
- “I can take a job with an affirmative
action employer without having coworkers on the job suspect that I got it
because of race, or keep it because of my race.”
- “I can remain oblivious of
the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority
without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion.”
After we had our in-class discussion about white privilege, I will admit I left that evening fuming and feeling upset. I don’t like being called a racist. I didn’t feel that I should be somehow deemed guilty for the actions of bigots and those in the past who enslaved, tortured, or oppressed people of color simply because I was of the same race as them. On the other hand, some of the things in McIntosh’s list rang true. I work part time as a receptionist at a hair cutting salon and have been asked on several occasions by various persons of color or different ethnicities whether someone knows how to cut their hair. And to be honest, whenever buying band-aids, I never worry about the color of the bandage matching the color of my skin. I don’t even question that, I just assume and know that it will. Other times, I will see black or other ethnic children holding a doll that is white.
Even still recognizing all of these things, I still felt hurt in a way. And that didn’t change until recently, for the same class, we read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I think that this book helped hammer home the point about the fact of being oblivious to, so to speak, being on top of it all. It is this fact that McIntosh points out: I can “remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion.” Even more than that it is the perception of my normalcy, of my being the standard by which all others are judged. In some ways, I guess, this is normal. We judge any difference in relation to ourselves. But again, it is this idea that our way, and let me be blunt, the white way, is some sort of universal norm by which all other ways, cultures, etc. are to be judged. And, I think, this is made more potentially dangerous due to the real power, be it in world finance, military strength, media impact, or others, that we due possess. It is not just that the white way is viewed as the norm, it is that we have the capability of enforcing it as the norm and are unwilling to admit that other ways are as equally valid.
I think this has other ramifications as well besides that of race. It is directly related to our willingness or capability of seeing things differently or even admitting that it is possible to see things from a different perspective. Let me give an example. Perhaps during the summer time you have happened to be near a lake or pond. There are insects called water striders which due to their design are capable of not breaking the surface tension of water. Thus they are able to walk and skitter about on water, never sinking or falling below. In a way, I think this could be a metaphor for how we view our reality. We stride about, riding the surface tension of reality never worrying about being brought under because we don’t even accept it as a possibility. And this is the important point - we must be willing to at least be open to questioning, to engage that possibility, to ponder that things as they are presented to us are not necessarily sacrosanct.
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