Whitewashing History
February 20, 2023 By 22 Comments

Whitewashing History

After weeks of writing, reading, research, and procrastination, I have told myself today is the day. The day this column will be finished and published, and I can move on to other projects. Why has this one been so difficult to pull together? I had to work through a lot of emotions: anger, frustration, depression, and perplexity to name the most common. But today I’ve decided to stop reading more articles, stop allowing myself to be mired in feelings that pull me down and knock me out. Instead, I’ll write (which is often how I pray and how I work through difficult times) and tell you what I’m feeling. What I’m thinking. What I hope.

Feelings

I’m anxious about the possibility of state-controlled education that will exacerbate divisiveness, hatred, and “othering” in this country and curtail free speech and democracy.

I am deeply concerned. A citizen and former teacher, I shudder reading about the numerous bills (some already laws) introduced in state legislatures and school boards across the country that restrict or outlaw the discussion of issues of diversity, inclusion, and equality. These include topics of sexuality, gender, and systemic racism. While all such attempts to discriminate against people on the margins are terrible and threaten the well-being of students and teachers and the very survival of democracy in this country, this Black History month I’m particularly mindful of those that impact Black Americans and their place in U.S. history.

I’m overwhelmed by the hypocrisy of legislators, governors, mayors, and school board members scurrying to push through laws and resolutions that ARE the very systemic racism that they deny exists now and in our history.

I’m overwhelmed by the fear that motivates such actions and by the hate, discrimination, arrogance, and self-righteousness that it engenders.

I’m overwhelmed by the willingness of people in power to rewrite history to their own advantage and by the effects their efforts (if successful) will have on upcoming generations and the possibility of peace and reconciliation.

I am troubled. A Christian, I feel that many involved in rewriting our history and perpetuating a climate of racism and fear are doing so in the name of Jesus and under the banner of Christianity.

I feel betrayed that more religious leaders, local and national, are not publicly and strongly speaking out against this appropriation of the faith that is fundamentally about trying to live as Jesus lived. Surely, Jesus weeps. He hung out with the marginalized. He chastised those who put down others. His life is a witness to inclusion, of welcoming all into his family.

I flirt with despair that this nation cannot be healed.

Thoughts

I think re-writing history to favor those is power is something authoritarian governments and dictatorships do. Denying that racism is embedded in U.S. history and laws is one way to do this. Another is to threaten teachers who discuss such topics and present truth, uncomfortable as it might be, to their students. It is whitewashing this country’s past.

The term “whitewashing” at one time primarily meant using whitewash to cover a surface. Since the late 1990s in the U.S., it’s also been used in the entertainment field to refer to the use of white actors to portray people of color or to replace people of color with white characters. In 2019, Merriam Webster added this definition of “whitewashing” to its list of meanings: to portray (the past) in a way that increases the prominence, relevance, or impact of white people and minimizes or misrepresents that of nonwhite people. The Cambridge Dictionary defines it as: an attempt to stop people finding out the true facts about a situation.

It takes courage to acknowledge the past, own it, and move forward together to heal the wounds caused by immoral actions, policies, and institutions. Efforts to deny the uglier parts of this country’s past treatment of Black Americans —slavery and systemic racism embedded in laws and institutions for example— make healing the racial divide impossible. Like a bodily wound that festers and becomes infected, the wounds of the past must be exposed, cleaned, and tended to heal. Otherwise, the infection grows and poisons the whole body.

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”

– Desmond Tutu

Nelson Mandela and Rev. Desmond Tutu knew this. Mandela created the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and appointed Tutu as its chairman. It gave voice to the victims of apartheid and allowed perpetrators of violence to admit their guilt, seek forgiveness, and receive amnesty. It was about healing not vengeance and helped South Africa move to a democracy. It wasn’t perfect. Nothing is. But it showed the world a way to respond when past crimes are poisoning the present.

The way forward isn’t denial. It is encounter. With the past. With the present. With those wronged and those who perpetrated the wrongs.  There is no other way to wholeness.

Jesus knew that.

His life is a witness to honestly facing the hypocrisy of institutions (including religious ones). He didn’t shy away from reminding the Jews of their history—including worship of idols, the murder of prophets for speaking the truth—because facing the past might make them feel uncomfortable or guilty. He didn’t hesitate to call out merchants who were making the temple a “den of thieves.” He named the Pharisees “whitened sepulchers”—pretty to look at but filled with corruption. Jesus didn’t mince words to spare feelings.

His life showed that only in facing personal and institutional sin and history could people and intuitions be healed, made whole, and become a blessing to the world and help build God’s kingdom. His teaching, his life came down to one thing: Love. Love of God and and neighbor, who is everyone. God’s kingdom is a “kindom.” It is filled with people of all ethnicities, skin colors, genders, and sexualities.

Jesus called us to love one another. I admit, I’m not great at that. I struggle to love those I perceive as perpetuating racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, and other “isms” that divide the world into “them – bad” and “us – good.” Deep listening is as difficult as taking action when I’m not sure what I can do to make a difference. Praying is hard when my mind is filled with upsetting news articles about one more shooting of an unarmed Black man or one more legislator jumping on the politically expedient bandwagon of whitewashing agendas.

It’s difficult to “see the log in my own eye” when I’m focused on removing the splinter from someone else’s. It’s easier to see the racism and fear of the “other” embedded in laws and institutions than to recognize it in my own heart.

I think courageous Love is the only way.

But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. 

– Martin Luther King, Jr.

Hope

I struggle with hope because I struggle with trust, not only in human beings but in God-with-us. How can I trust in Divine Presence drawing all things into union with itself when the world is in such a mess? When so many in positions of leadership are motivated by greed and the desire to hold on to power rather than to serve the greater good, where is hope?

Yet God calls us to hope. To find light in darkness. To BE light in darkness. To be healers.

To be part of that, I realize the importance of encountering God within me and growing to trust that God resides and moves in all creation, however hidden or unrecognized. I can look for light rather than being overwhelmed by darkness. I can grow in experiencing that all things are connected and that humble as well as spectacular acts of love and healing work together to move humanity toward wholeness.

Will it get there? I don’t know. But I don’t need to know before I open up to receive and to share Love in the places where I am. I don’t need to know, but to trust.

The new dawn blooms as we free it. / For there is always light, / if only we’re brave enough to see it, / if only we’re brave enough to be it.  

– Amanda Gorman from her poem “The Hill We Climb”

Read: Langston Hughes’s poem:

“Let American Be America Again”

photo Archbishop Desmond Tutu
Archbishop Desmond Tutu
Photo: Benny Good Public Domain
via Wikimedia Commons
Amanda Gorman
Photo: Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff from Washington D.C., United States,
via Wikimedia Commons

Photo Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Photo: Nobel Foundation, Public domain,
via Wikimedia Commons
Langston Hughes
Photo: Carl Van Vechten; cropped by Beyond My Ken (talk) 07:07, 5 August 2010
Public Domain,
via Wikimedia Commons

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
The Challenge of this Special Time
September 24, 2020 By 10 Comments

The Challenge of this Special Time

Musée d’Orsay, Paris
Photo: Mary van Balen

In a recent letter, a Trappist monk who has been my friend for decades, wrote this to me: “It is a special time to be living and praying…” This simple phrase immediately went to my heart. It seemed true, with a depth of meaning I would lean into in the days ahead.

My friend is right. These are difficult times with crises on multiple fronts: coronavirus, political upheaval, racism laid bare, climate change, anger, fear, distrust, hatred.

He could have written that these are terrible times to be living through, dangerous and scary—also true. But he didn’t. He said they were special times to be living and praying. The power of that phrase lies in its implication of responsibility. We are living now, in the midst of national and global turmoil and a once in a century pandemic. And because we are here, we are the ones who must do something about it. Living and praying deeply.

The author of Ecclesiastes writes that all is vanity. That there is nothing new under the sun. That what is now has been before and will be again. It’s the long view of human history, and in many ways, it is true. Strife and struggle have always been part of life. Our time on the earth is short. When death comes, the world continues to turn, as impossible as that seems in the midst of fresh, anguished grief.

Yet, here we are. Living. With choices to make, in this particular time in history. Choices, big and small, that will, for good or ill, make a difference. The fate of humanity, of this earth, is not written in the stars, something pre-determined that we watch come around and go away and come around again. The incarnational aspect of our faith says differently. We are not bystanders; we are partners in bringing the kingdom. 

Every person makes a difference. Each one has the call, the gift, to transform the world in some way by being faithful to and sharing the bit of Divinity that lives within. Every act or omission matters.

Ecclesiastes also says there is a time for every thing under the heavens: to be born, to die; to plant, to harvest; to weep, to laugh. The list is long.

What is it time for, now? What do these days demand? What cries out from that biblical list? A time to heal, a time to build, a time to gather stones together. It is a time to discern what to keep and what to cast away – there is much that needs to be cast away. It is not a time to be silent. It is a time to speak. And surely it is time to love in the midst of hate.         

And how will we help these things happen?

My friend’s deceptively simple words suggest living and praying. Not in a superficial way. Living actively in the moment. Praying with our actions. But also finding strength in prayer that connects us to the Presence of Love within that sustains and does the heavy lifting.

To authentically live and to pray in these times is challenging. Again, some biblical wisdom:

Paul writes to the community of Corinth about eating meat that had been sacrificed to idols. In the U.S., not something we deal with every day. (Though what modern “idols” do we worship that demand the sacrifice of lives and health of “essential workers” who harvest our food and process our meat?)

Paul says, “I will never eat meat again, so that I may not cause my brother to sin.” It’s not his response to a dilemma of his age that speaks to me; it’s his reason – a profound love and concern for the other and the willingness to sacrifice some part of his own comfort for them.

Again, this time to the Philippians, Paul writes of putting others first: “Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not only for their own interest, but also for those of others.”

And, of course, the life of Jesus, who gave everything he had, even his life, showing us what Love looks like.

My friend’s words have become questions: How will I live? How will I pray, in this special time?

© 2020 Mary van Balen

Pray as though everything depended on God. Work as though everything depended on you.

St. Augustine
Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,
Rev. Graetz: Standing Together for Justice
September 9, 2018 By Leave a Comment

Rev. Graetz: Standing Together for Justice

Rev. Robert and Jeannie Graetz Photo: Mary van Balen

I browse New York Times (NYT) headlines in the mornings even though the news is often depressing and stirs anger and frustration rather than wonder at new-day possibilities. But one morning in August, I was surprised by a headline and photo of an old friend, Rev. Robert Graetz. “Bombed by the K.K.K. A Friend of Rosa Parks. At 90, This White Pastor Is Still Fighting,” it read. The article, by Alan Blinder, included an interview with Robert and his wife, Jeannie.

After being ordained a Lutheran minister in Columbus Ohio, he was assigned to his first pastorate in 1955—Trinity Lutheran, a predominantly Black congregation in Montgomery, Alabama. There he was practically the only white minister who publicly supported the bus boycott and as the NYT headlines reveal, he and his family paid a price. According to Jeannie, threats began “As soon as the Klan and the Klan-type people knew that we were involved.”

Back in Ohio

The Graetzes moved back to Ohio a few years later. They lived in a simple house nestled in the woods of southern Ohio. Robert wrote a monthly column, part of the “Point of View” series that ran during the 70s and 80s in the Catholic Times, the diocesan newspaper of Columbus, Ohio.

I knew Robert from reading his columns (and his first book, “Montgomery: A White Preacher’s Memoir”), but in October 1992, we met at an alternative observance of Columbus Day. The 4-day event was led by Indigenous Peoples. Covering it for the Catholic Times, I saw Robert, and we shared lunch and good conversation.

Rev. Graetz spoke at some Martin Luther King Jr. Day services I attended over the years. So, in the early 2000s, when I was an adult educator for a family literacy program severing poor, mostly single, young parents, Robert was my first choice to be an MLK Day speaker for our students.

Rev. Robert and Jeannie Graetz addressing a group of students

Photo: Mary van Balen

He and Jeannie came and shared stories, not only of their time and roles in Montgomery and the bus boycott, but also of their continued work for causes of justice and equality. It included the fight against racism and embraced other forms of injustice: sexism, income disparity, oppression of minorities based on ethnicity, sexual orientation, or anything that separates persons as “other.” Their message was written large on a tablet displayed beside them as they spoke: R.A.C.E.– Respect All Cultures Equally.

It wasn’t only the “big” message that touched my students. It was the little things. “Did you see how Jeannie slid that cough drop across the table to him when he started to cough?” they asked. Her simple act deeply moved those young parents who had been abused for most of their lives. They insisted that we drive up to Columbus to hear him preach at St. Philips Lutheran Church.

I enjoyed reading the NYT article that morning and learned that the Graetzes now live in Montgomery. It was good to remember people who inspired. Who walked the walk. People who did their best to love as Jesus loved and to take a stand against oppression and injustice when they saw it, despite danger to themselves and their family.

Divisiveness, violence, and hate that swirl around us today are disturbing. When asked for his thoughts about what was happening in Alabama and across our country, Robert said it’s “…one of the most dangerous periods of time I’ve ever been through in this world.” Sobering from one who has lived through tumultuous years of the Civil Rights Movement.

Hope

Photo of the bus Rosa Parks was riding when she refused to give up her seat.

The bus Rosa Parks was riding when she refused to give up her seat. Now at the Henry Ford Museum, Dearborn, MI.

Yet there is hope. During a 2011 PBS interview, Robert observed that many people thank Jeannie and him for what they did. He’s quick to point out that it wasn’t only what “they” did. He gives credit to the Women’s Political Council made up of Black American women who started the bus boycott and all those who were involved. “It was 50,000 Black people who stood together, who walked together, who worked together, who stood up against oppression,” he said. “If it had not been for this whole body of people working together, this would not have happened.”

At the end of the NYT article, he said that seeing two people getting together and smiling was a source of optimism for him.

I take these two thoughts to heart. Today we need to “be peace” where we are, in the little moments, showing love and support. Like Jeannie and the cough drop, you never know when small kindnesses will touch someone’s heart.

But we also need to work together as we speak out and stand up for justice today.

© 2018 Mary van Balen

Similar column published in the Catholic Times, Columbus, Ohio. 9.9.2018

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
September 25, 2015 By Leave a Comment

Pope Francis and the Common Good

Close up of Pope Francis addressing US Congress 9 24 2015

 

 

 

 

 

This past Sunday, while spending an evening with the Nuns on the Bus, I heard one man say that the words “the common good” had all but disappeared from public discourse. Today, Pope Francis put it back—front and center. He stood before Congress and in the first minutes of his speech, reminded those legislators: “You are called to defend and preserve the dignity of your fellow citizens in the tireless and demanding pursuit of the common good, for this is the chief aim of all politics.”

I hope they were listening.

The organization of the Pope’s speech was masterful. He reminded us of values and struggles for liberty, freedom for all, social justice, and openness to dialogue and prayer by holding up four Americans: Abraham Lincoln, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Dorothy Day, and Thomas Merton. Many of his listeners may not have heard of Dorothy Day or Thomas Merton. Their lives and writings were integral to the development of my own values and spirituality in my late teens and early twenties. Thomas Merton’s books have a place in my study, and his quote from his theophany at Walnut and 42nd in Louisville, Kentucky hangs on my wall.

Pope Francis highlighted the need to address poverty and climate change. To welcome refugees and those seeking a better life. He warned against reducing complex issues of violence done in the name of religion to labels of “righteous” and “sinners.”  When speaking of the need to  respect life in all its stages, he called for an international ban on the death penalty. Throughout the fifty-some minutes that he spoke, he emphasized the imperative of working not for wealth or personal power, but for the good of all.

And, in a place where it has been tragically lacking, he called for cooperation:  “We must move forward

together, as one, in a renewed spirit of fraternity and solidarity, cooperating generously for the common good. The challenges facing us today call for a renewal of that spirit of cooperation, which has accomplished so much good throughout the history of the United States.”

Pope Francis in front of assembled US Congress.

Pope Francis addressing US Congress 9 24 2015

Life the man himself, Pope Francis’s speech was also full of hope and optimisim. Of joy and love.

And then, when he finished, he left the halls of Congress and the assembly of rich and powerful to share lunch with homeless of Washington.

 

 

Filed Under: The Scallop, Uncategorized, Widening Our Circles Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,