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Social Action in the Congregation Address by Liz James Sunday 11 Dec 2005 |
Good
morning. I’d like to begin talking with you about social action
by telling you a story about my own start as a social activist.
It was November of the year 2000. I was twenty-two. After
an…
exciting adolescence and a… unique
first serious romance, I was living with and dating Gary, soon to become
engaged to him. I
was nearly done my degree. I
was at that point
in my
life when
I’d
finally mastered
my
immediate universe
and could turn my attentions to things greater than myself.
I was ready
to be part of saving the world.
Now, the tricky
part about helping save the world is getting started. Searching
“saving the world” and “Saskatoon” on Google produced
dubious results. The trick was getting connected to the right people,
and figuring
out where the best place to put my efforts was. I
wanted to be part of something greater than myself. By joining with
others, I reasoned, I could
be part of a force strong enough to create meaningful
change.
I took to protesting
pretty readily—it seems to mesh well with my inherent personality—and
protests
are pretty easy-to-find events.
I was aware of an upcoming protest against a group called the “promise
keepers”.
They were a men-only
religious-becoming-political group that professed itself to be crusading
for “family values”. Being a bit of a family values girl
myself, I planned to attend the protest that would be happening outside.
And I planned to bring my family.
It was a
sunny November morning at around seven
when we drove up
to SaskPlace. Promise keepers are early risers, and I had had to
entice the boys with McDonalds drive-through to get them out of bed.
When we arrived,
a very nice
lady with a megaphone explained the fundamental rules of these kinds of
protests to us—stay with the group, only engage in conversation with
a buddy pair—stuff like that. I repeated the lecture verbatim
to the boys three times to make sure they understood about the importance
of safety in the presence of the enemy. They
showed their comprehension of the situation by nodding gravely and asking
if they could have some of the timbits from the
protesters’ coffee stand.
They showed
their understanding of the issues by choosing a sign that read “I’m
queer and I’m here”.
I explained about patriarchy and human rights (and
the meaning
of the term queer)
and real family
values. They asked how
many timbits
they were allowed to have.
We took our place
in the circle of protesters
right beside a banner
for a place called the Unitarian Center. As
the crowd began to
march and chant, we leant our feet and voices to the greater force of
that rhythm.
“To the left.
To the left. Not to the right, to the Left.”
A couple of promise
keepers tried a tactic that I hear was used here, when we were once protested.
The called to my sister and I “Come, join us… join us…”
My sister pointed out that since
we were women we were banned from
their
meeting. Feminism
one, patriarchy zero. We marched on.
“To
the left. To the left. Not to the right, to the Left.”
A couple of men
yelled at us that we needed to get saved. We were not intimidated.
We were here to stand up for what was good and right. And
we were in buddy pairs.
“To
the left. To the left. Not to the right, to the Left.”
We retaliated with
humour, singing satirical songs like “promise keeper blues”
and “gary had a little wife” (The boys thought the promise keepers
must be really silly people to have Gary bossing his wife around like
that—they said it was backwards). But we marched on!
“To
the left. To the left. Not to the right, to the Left.”
Let them yell, let
them wave religious artifacts. We
yelled “shaaaaaaame” back at them, at homogeneous group of white
upper middle class men arriving swarming
in like insects to
disappear into their secret
meeting. One
of them said he “didn’t know what all them queers were doing
here”. Another
stood shaking is
fist and hollering at us about the love of Jesus.
“To the left.
To the left. Not to the right, to the Left.”
One of them…
asked me
to define
the term misogyny.
It was on my sign.
I didn’t write
my own sign—we picked them up when we arrived...
I knew misogyny
had something to
do with oppression of women… and my slogan was really catchy…
“To
the left. To the left. Not to the right, to the Left?”
My
sister leaned
over and said in my ear, over all the yelling “so
what exactly are we accomplishing here?”
And I realized
that when I set out to change what I think is wrong in
the world,
I don’t want to be the man yelling about the love of Jesus.
I want to be the
one asking for the definition of the term misogyny.
I left
the group. Don’t worry, I
took my family with
me—I would not abandon them the buddy system
I broke
off to go talk to a man who was standing alone, sipping coffee, and watching
us march in circles. When I walked up to him, he smiled and sighed
and said “I don’t really feel we’re all communicating here”.
Realizing
at this point that I really didn’t have anything intelligent left
to say, I shut my mouth and listened.
I learned from this
man that he felt lost, and looked to the promise keepers as a source of
values in a world that he felt was crumbling. He felt supported
by them in caring for his wife in a relationship that works for both of
them. He was interested in my concerns regarding the increasing
political force of the promise keepers, but didn’t see them as racist
or anti-gay. Another promise keeper, joining the discussion, brainstormed
with us ways that the leadership of the group might address the actions
of some of its more extreme members.
We all wondered
why those actions hadn’t been publicly denounced by the movement
as a whole.
At the end of the
day, I felt good about my contribution. I felt good about being
there to stand up for what I believed in, and I felt good about shifting
gears partway through.
I felt good about taking my children, even in their not-always inspired
state, because I believe that Social Action is one of the tasks of being
a family.
I explained
to my sister that we were a role model to families everywhere as we drove
away (me stuffing mcdonalds wrappers into the glove compartment as we
went).
My cell phone rang.
It was my oldest son, Nathan. He was not in the back seat.
And it turns out he had been listening to my lectures about staying together
as a group and safety in protest situations. He was able to fire
them all back at me, and I think he was more than a little snotty about
it.
“Please” I said to him, “tell me your not placing this
call from a promise keeper’s phone…”
I don’t want
to be the man yelling about Jesus *or* the man asking for the definition
of the term misogyny.
I want to be the one
simply stating the
reasons for my
actions, and
asking for the reasons of others..
At the same time, I understand that there are times when more than
dialogue is called for. That’s one of the wonderful things
about saving the world—there’s
so many ways to do it. At a protest or in a soup kitchen or at a
fundraiser or in a board meeting or when buying insulation or when talking
around the dinner table. The diversity is almost overwhelming.
Speaking of overwhelming
diversity,
a few months later I came to check out the Unitarian Center advertised
on the banner I saw that day. I was hoping that these might be
my kind of people.
I hoped to find the connection with activists that I’d been
seeking.
I was told that
there was a social action committee, but that it had recently lost its
convenor. As I watched through the next several years I repeatedly
saw the committee flounder and try to rebuild. As my
partner Gary
became more involved he told me that he felt the one thing seriously missing
from the congregation was a project that everyone could get behind—something
greater than ourselves. I’ve heard that sentiment echoed many
times. I’ve seen people try to solve this problem by taking
the initiative
to set up such projects
only to see them flounder due to a disappointing
lack of interest
from the congregation. I’ve heard us described as anywhere
from overwhelmed and lacking broader vision to self-centered and lazy.
And you can argue with the interpretation
all you like, but
the facts are that we often
fail in our efforts
at unified action on behalf of something greater than ourselves.
I would like
to argue with that
interpretation.
We keep trying to do what other churches do—pick a cause and
make a difference. Seems simple enough. The
promise keepers are great in soup kitchens—a real unified force.
But we aren’t promise keepers. We don’t start with
a single goal—to
carry out the work of Christ. We begin with a conversation—maybe
about Christ,
maybe about something else. Maybe
about whether or
not we should have a conversation about Christ…
It sounds like I’m
suggesting that
our diversity bogs us down and makes us useless. Quite to the contrary.
I think that to say our diversity makes us useless at taking
unified action is
like throwing away your microscope because you can’t use it to hammer
in nails. Diversity is a giant
pain in the neck if
we’re looking to pick something and get everyone to do it. But
it’s a
huge advantage
if we use it for the tasks its
best suited to.
I told you that
I came here to find activists and thinkers, and to find my place in
changing the world.
There
was no changing the world committee active
at the time,
but I found
what I was looking for. When I look around I see a community rich
in intriguing people pursuing
a variety of ethical passions.
I see connections to the environment, to humanitarian causes, and
to social justice issues. If I want to fight homophobia or build
a solar oven or teach piano to
inner city kids or teach values to the children of our own congregation—I
can do it through here. If
I want to find a social activist mentor or learn how to write a letter
to my MLA or find people to attend a protest, this is a great starting
point. If I want to reason through what I feel to be an ethical
stand or an ethical life as a social activist, this
is a great home for me.
When I want
to answer hard questions—will I eat meat? Do I think war is
wrong under
all circumstances? Or practical
questions—what is the most ethical brand of laundry soap? How
will I vote in the next election?
This
congregation is a place that provides me with the diversity of views I
need to take into account in making those decisions.
Maybe we aren’t
cut out to be the huge unified force, the freight train barreling down
upon the evils of the world. Maybe we’re not so much a
train as a
web of tracks.
Maybe we’re what facilitates movement, what facilitates change.
Maybe
we’re what connects the people who are changing the world. What
nourishes them and makes them stronger. Maybe we’re the safe
space to reason through what is right. A space to discuss your ethics
with the benefit of a whole spectrum of views, all under the guidance
of our principles.
Do we want to expand
on this? Maybe
devote some more Sunday Service time to hearing about the work of our
congregants? Or formalize the relationship by inviting some of those
organizations to do their own services?
Maybe
space in the challenge, or on the website? Space for
forums? Booths
at coffee hour? Would
some of these
groups we connect
to actually
be subgroups
of our own congregation, flexibly constructed to form and meet the
needs and passions of our congregants
as they become apparent?
When I envision
this, I think of the interconnected web, with strands of that web reaching
out to various organizations. I think of us being aware of them,
and them being aware of us, and people moving freely back and forth along
those strands, to contribute and connect in a web of communities. People
finding their place, recognizing that a person’s place changes with
every passing moment. I think of sharing resources—of simple
things like asking the environmental society’s advice when we buy
new windows, or inviting someone to
talk about pacifism in
religious education classes.
And when I reach
that point in my thoughts, I come up against an interesting second question,
which I’d like to bring
up with you.
Setting aside for a moment the question about whether this interconnected
web model is even what
we want or how it would look. I
have a second idea I want your insight on. I’ve been quickly
skimming through
the phrases, “diversity of views”
and “congruent with our principles”, as though those concepts
are a done deal for us. But when I try to get specific on this,
I picture Unitarian banner flying at the promise keeper rally.
I hear “to
the left, to the left. Not to the right to the left”
Some of our
congregants clearly felt that to be a rally consistent
with our principles. Was
it? Do
we all agree on
what “consistent with our principles” means?
Is that the way
to ensure justice,
equity,
and compassion
in human relations?
The promise keeper from the rally would argue that his values are
consistent with our principles. And he’d probably
argue that
the presence of our banner in a circle of people yelling shame at him
for practicing his religion is not consistent with our principles.
Gary, who
is currently fighting for privatization of some aspects of our health
care system, would argue that his doing so is in line with our principles.
Frank Coburn, were he here today, might express
a—differing
view. How
do we approach this?
Reverend Ray Drennan,
in his confluence lecture suggests that we leave taking the stands on
issues to our individual congregants. He suggests that, as Unitarians,
we focus on being a space for
careful and respectful conversation
to take place with a full spectrum of views. A free and responsible
search for truth and meaning.
Would you
come to hear a panel on racism if a Nazi were included? I met and
got to know a strong racist in my second year of University. I’d
met and spoken with racists before, but never one with
anything particularly coherent to say. This
one had a lot of arguments
I’d never heard before, the only thing I had to say was “racism
is wrong. Very wrong.
Everyone says it’s wrong.”
Up until that point,
I’d felt that some beliefs are so wrong that even to listen to them
is an immoral act. I was very ill equipped to defend my beliefs
to this man. I
had only emphatic platitudes and catchy jingles. I
would like my sons, when they encounter such ideas, to have more tools
and information
than I had. I
don’t
think evil comes from careful,
reasoned, and respectful conversations,
no matter
which views are included. I think it can come from but
from half-truths and poorly thought
out but passionate statements, even if the point is one I agree with.
I believe
that the truth has nothing to fear from honest conversation.
At the same time, I don’t want to be the one putting the Nazi poster
on the wall, and I don’t want to read “Nazi” and “Unitarian
Center” in the same ad in the Star Phoenix. I really
struggle with this.
Are there beliefs
that do not
deserve a voice in our building?
If so, how do we decide which ones? The
Nazi one might seem pretty clear—as I understand it our commitment
to dialogue and diversity probably would draw much of a Nazi following,
but what about, say, privatization of health care? Or using military
force as a tool in solving some of the world’s problems>
I have a lot of
questions,
and not so many answers. That’s what response time is for.
I’ve
given you a tricky task—two parallel questions. One is how
do we want to make change in the world—do we want to be a force in
the world, or do we want to be the connections making those forces more
effective?
And my second question is, how do we define those terms? Which
forces do we want to help, and how? Does
being the web mean we are the same web to all causes? Are
we called to pure diversity and careful dialogue, or do we want those
things within certain moral absolutes? If so, where exactly are
those boundaries?
What I do know is
only this:
We want to change
the world for the better.
We are a
diverse group, committed to careful dialogue. Unlike
many other religious communities, we struggle to speak in a united voice.
There are some
things—important
things--that diverse
voices can say that united ones cannot.
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