"I Didn't Preach On This Naiveté"

I’m almost embarrassed to admit this. 

I don’t know much at all about Fergusson. 

I’ve not watched any news reports.  I’ve not read newspaper articles.  I’ve not followed the evening news or the Daily Show.  I am a minister in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.); yet I’ve not preached lately “with a newspaper in one hand and a Bible in the other” about the horrific events related to our life together as human beings and citizens of the United States; and while I’ve read a number of blog posts from colleagues, a couple of sermons, prayed prayers suggested by my denomination, found both comfort and disturbed-ness in compelling words offered by our Stated Clerk, I know that I’m surely—and to the absolute horror of many—grossly uninformed. 

Former Vice Moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), and current Synod Executive for the Synod of Mid-America, Rev. Landon Whitsitt, recounted on Facebook early on with regard to Fergusson, the conversation he had with one of his sons:

“Through heavy sobs he asked me “What do we do?”  I had to admit to him that I didn’t know.
 This morning, the best answer I have is: “Don’t look away.”

I don’t feel like I have intentionally “looked away.”  But I’m not sure I’ve bothered much lately to actually “look” in the first place. 

I know a lot that’s happened in Fergusson, Missouri—or as a result of “Fergusson”—is wrong. 

I believe killing is wrong.  Even if it’s accidental?  Yes.  I don’t believe killing is ever justified.  That always gets me cross-wise with the headline news.

I have believed, and believe even more strongly, now, that it’s wrong for a police force to so overwhelmingly represent one race, while policing a people of a different race.  I believe one day, it won’t matter, White or Black, Black or Hispanic, White or Hispanic, Hispanic or Asian, European or Native American—but now, today, it does matter.  A lot!  In ways I don’t fully understand.  It still matters. 

I believe it’s wrong that some police officers are referred to as “white officers” while other police officers get referred to as “black cops” in the media.  One day it should not matter as much—we will all see it for a glowing error, a falseness, a misrepresentation—but today, it matters, a lot. 

I believe it’s wrong when people make assumptions about other people that are based only on skin color.  It’s wrong for law enforcement to treat some people different from other people.  Racial profiling is wrong.  Other assumptions are wrong.  I know this might make some things easier—like banishing racial profiling—but it might make other things harder—like not assuming those bruises are from abuse.”  Getting to the real truth is sometimes, hard, ugly business and it shouldn’t be so ugly or so hard. 

I know it’s wrong, when the voices of dissent and anger can no longer be peaceful; and when trying to maintain or restore order presents itself as violence, insult, injury, fury, and might versus right.  I know it’s wrong when we turn to violent means to pursue peaceful ends.  I know that despite what Jesus teaches us, it’s still hard for human beings to resist sin and fear in hungering and thirsting for righteousness, when the cries of “how long, O God,” cannot bear another day, another hour, another moment of this pressing and present injustice. 

I know these things are wrong.  Still…, is that enough? 

Probably not.  I’m reminded of the saying, “in the end everything will be all right; if it’s not all right, it’s not the end.”  Clearly we are not at the end times!  And what I can’t get out of my mind are Landon’s words for his son—and perhaps the rest of us, too: 

"Remember that even though we don’t know anyone from Ferguson, they are our friends. Our friends will ask us to help, in some way, soon. When they ask, we need to be prepared to do whatever we can.  And don’t ever forget what you’ve seen.  Grow up to be a person that works to make sure it never happens again.”

So on this second day of Advent, I’m thinking about the future.  Of the time-come-true that the Apostle Paul writes about when he says, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” 

And where that seems to be true—where I can “see it” in action—is in the children of the Llanerch Presbyterian Preschool.  They are not a perfect example of diversity—but our students come as children in different colors, with different backgrounds and families; but everyone comes as an “equal.”  Some of the children bring other gifts, too—disorders, Downs Syndrome, even a child whose internal organs were exterior (where there was a special plate and brace and special procedures for him).  Yet the joy of the children is that their “gifts” are simply “normal.”  They don’t know yet to look at the dis-abilities; and they get to see dramatically differently-abled classmates! 

Sometimes, I just wish we could live in that world as adults.  Where “all we ever needed to know we learned about in [pre-school]!  So when was it that the wool got pulled away from our eyes? 

But I also know, I need to be a part of building the world that we long for and desire to live in—the wonderful world of God’s kingdom that affords amazing gifts and abilities not thought of our imagined! 

So I’m praying for Advent’s light in this special, holy season that’s all about Jesus coming to us and our having to be prepared.  Jesus, who comes first as an infant.  The Jesus who first visits us as a child, and surely matriculated in someone’s preschool class!  And the Jesus who would stand up and boldly as an adult to proclaim not only “let the little children come to me,” but in fact, “for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.  Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:14-15). 

I’m trying, Jesus—I’m trying.  I don’t just want a world that looks like preschool; I want your kingdom.  And I don’t think it’s just going to come if I don’t help build it.  So help me with my naiveté. 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The Presbyterian Church of Llanerch, Havertown, Pennsylvania