Going to the library in Akron was a statement.
In Philadelphia and in Mission Year, I am constantly
surrounded by new voices in my community, house, workplace, and church. These
voices challenge me to view the world differently, to consider different
perspectives in making decisions, to understand that I am part of a larger
whole.
Going to the library in Akron was a statement.
In Akron, I am predominately surrounded by voices of people
who look like me, have similar backgrounds to me—we tend to view the world in
similar ways. Although there are pockets of challenge spoken into my life, a
majority of my interactions in my hometown affirm the cultural position I hold
rather than speak to it in truth and love.
I want to be challenged.
So I went to the library.
There I found voices—hundreds of voices—of people of all
backgrounds and cultures who are asking questions. I found people of great
spiritual commitment who ask the question I'm asking “What does it look like to love God
and love people?”—César Chávez, Mother Teresa, Thomas Merton.
* * *
César Chávez, Latino leader and organizer, what does it look like to
live into your words regarding organizing? “[I]n a nutshell, what do we want
the Church to do? We don’t ask for more cathedrals. We don’t ask for bigger
churches or fine gifts. We ask for its presence with us, besides us, as Christ
among us. We ask the Church to sacrifice
with the people for social change, for justice, and for love of brother. We
don’t ask for words. We ask for deeds. We don’t ask for paternalism. We ask for
servant hood.” I’m intrigued.
Thomas Merton, your prophetic voice spoke into the truth of
your time. I see that you lived a life committed to your time. “To choose the
world is to choose to do the work I am capable of doing, in collaboration with
my brother and sister, to make the world better, more free, more just, more
livable, more human.” I also see that you live a life deeply committed to your
God. As one living in faith and service, your words challenge and encourage me
to keep on keepin’ on. I’m eager to continue learning from you.
Mother Teresa, the way you affirm the dignity in all is
beautiful to me. You love recklessly, and freely, all in what I perceive to be
obedience to Jesus. I don’t know quite what to make of your words, but there is
something in your speech that draws me in to asking questions—questions I can’t
quite put into words yet.
* * *
I found a book about the religious history of African
Americans—I want to learn. I found a book on African Saints (Saints, Martyrs,
and Holy People from the Continent of Africa)—educate me on the lives of the
bold and beautiful on a continent where the media presents a very broad picture
of “pity.” I found a book on Afrocentric sermons, sermons that speak to
something deeper in my soul—empowerment and beauty.
In a yearning to open myself up to different cultures and
ways of interacting with people, I picked up a book on West African folk tales. I
heard The Tortoise and the Hare growing up, what have other children heard? I
picked up a book about the Apache people in North America—a photojournalist
(respectfully and beautifully) entering into their sacred ceremony as young
Apache women enter womanhood. I’m learning a lot not only from the Apache
people, but from the photojournalist who affirms the dignity in the people and
will not exploit through photography. I picked up a book on Native American
Wisdom, and found myself confronted with critiques on “the white man.” I wept
with anger at the near genocide of many tribes of people done at the hands of
my Euro-American ancestors. How can one move forward? (And by one I mean “I”
and “we” and all in-between.)
Going to the library in Akron was a statement of my
commitment to life-long learning and growth.
I am committed to listening to and being challenged/taught
by marginalized voices.
I am committed to encouraging others on towards doing the
same.
I am committed to doing so with the knowledge that by
listening to others and considering different perspectives, it changes me (and
us).
I see listening as a means to meet people in their own cultural
contexts. When I meet someone where they’re at, I see that what I once thought
was anger is actually hurt manifested as anger, what I once thought was control
is actually fear manifested as control. Humanizing “the other” and learning
from them (whoever “the other” is), I believe is one of the greatest
tools towards conflict transformation, reconciliation, mutual respect, and
peace.
I am committed to living into the loving act of active listening among people groups for the rest of my life.
Let my life be the proof.
What are you reading? Who are you listening to? Who is
challenging you? What statement are you making?
Let’s talk about it!
