Clergy and Cops – Reflections on Power and Identity

I can’t imagine how hard it must be right now to be a police officer.  I really can’t.  Even though I know police officers, have worked with police officers, and have needed police officers, I can’t imagine what it must be like right now to be the focus of such relentless criticism and challenge.  The protests that have sprung up all around the nation in response to the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson MO are really directed at the police.  That’s what makes these protests different from all others I have been part of.  Generally the focus of protests I’ve participated in have been directed to some third party – a corporation, a politician, an organization – and the police have been present to keep order.  Now, however, they are actually the focus of the protests.  They stand in lines night after night facing protesters chanting at them, raining down anger and mistrust on them, committing acts of civil disobedience directed at them.  The goal of the protests is to change police decision-making, police culture, and police action, and to increase police accountability.

What this does is put the police in a dual role.  They are both playing their standard role of maintaining order when protests happen, and receiving and responding to actions that are directed at them.  I can’t imagine how hard that must be.

What I can relate to is being criticized as a leader.  I am a minister, and just like the cops, I experience all kinds of criticism coming towards me. It is part of the job.  And that’s o.k.  That’s what happens to leaders.  We put ourselves out there and that makes us vulnerable all the time.  Leaders become the focus of a lot of projection.  People see things in us that we have no control over and that we did not create.  Police and clergy are professions that have a lot of history and tradition layered onto them.  That history and tradition will impact how others respond to us.  There’s a reason I am often reluctant to tell people in my personal life what I do for a living.  90% of the time it changes how they look at me and how they act around me.  Their projections eliminate the possibility of true friendship.  I increasingly keep my profession to myself so that I can have friends, otherwise the projection is too strong and everything gets weird.  Although I do realize that by hiding such a huge part of who I am, they aren’t fully seeing me either, and the friendship is still skewed.

I bet this happens to cops all the time too.

One of our major coping mechanisms it to learn how not to buy into the projections.  They can be alluring and deadly.  If we buy into these projections, they will define us and they will destroy us.   Self-differentiation is absolutely essential for personal survival.  This means that sometimes you just have to be alright with people not liking you.  You have to be alright with disappointing people.  You have to be alright with toppling from the pedestal they put you on.  You have to do what you really believe is right, even if it means losing everything.  Cops and clergy face these situations all the time.

What I also have found over the years is that I more naturally gravitate to clergy as my first choice for friends.  They get me, they get what it’s like to have this job, they get the glory and the pain of it all, they get how driven we are and the pressures we live with.  There are things I don’t have to explain.   I don’t feel the pressure to hide who I am.  But it also means that my world gets smaller. I am less connected to the non-church world.  It becomes at times a self-referential circle.

I bet this happens to cops too, just like it happens to veterans and other vocations where the uniqueness of the experience draws you to those who share it.  You’re all shaped by the same war wounds.

Having said that, there is really no room for a victim complex in our work.  The reason so much is projected at us, and the reason that we are so often the focus of criticism, is because we do have power.  How we use that power can dramatically influence the lives of those we serve and lead.  It is our responsibility to always be vigilant in the use of the power that we have.  In my profession, most of the criticism in the last few decades has been directed at clergy sexual abuse.  Many clergy, including Unitarian Universalist clergy, did and do abuse their power in ways that have damaged countless adults and children.  Many churches are still recovering from these abuses.

What did this ask of clergy?  It asked us to open the wagon circle and let the world in, to open ourselves up to greater levels of accountability.  It wasn’t easy.  The first ministers to suggest a professional code for Unitarian Universalist ministers, and they were mostly women ministers, were called prudes and morality police by their male colleagues.   It wasn’t until enough men believed them and were willing to stand with them that real change happened.  It’s taken almost 30 years of cultural change for my professional association, the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association, to explicitly state in our code of professional conduct that it is unethical to have sexual relations with anyone we serve in a ministerial capacity.

Law enforcement is facing a similar challenge.  There is a deep and valid concern that police officers operate in a culture that encourages and legitimizes the use of force beyond what is necessary in a given situation.  There is also growing evidence that law enforcement is part of a system that is deeply racist.  Racial profiling is real and devastating.   Too many people are losing their lives.   Too many people are feeling preyed upon by those who should be protecting and serving them.  The damage is so deep and so sustained that it has fueled protests that haven’t stopped since August 9th and show no signs of abating.  The shooting of Michael Brown uncorked a well of pain and anger that has very legitimate roots.

I keep looking for some indication that the police are understanding this, that some of them are able to self-differentiate and really listen to the message that is being sent their way.  I keep looking for some indication that some cops understand that the protest they face, at its roots, is not about being anti-police.  None of the actions and the criticism, even the angriest of words, are about being anti-police.  It is actually being very much FOR the police.  What it is against is the abuse of power and authority.  When we call the police to a higher standard, when we ask for their policies and procedures to change, when we ask them to reconsider the way they make choices, when we ask them to welcome accountability, we are wanting them to become the fullest manifestation of what they are supposed to be, servants of the community.

I have heard stories of protesters standing face to face with police, right here in St. Louis, and police officers softly saying, “Keep doing what you’re doing.”  This gives me hope.  This week the Ethical Society of Police Officers, which represents the African American police officers in St. Louis, released a statement supporting the Rams players who held up their hands in the “Hands Up Don’t Shoot” position as they came onto the field.

This gives me hope.  I’m glad to hear these stories because it’s become very very easy to be judgmental of the police.  I need to know there are human beings behind the visors, the billy clubs, the bullet proof vests, the tear gas, and the rubber bullets who are capable of change.  It’s been really hard to see that.

I cannot overstate how much courage and humility it is going to take for those in law enforcement to be able to recognize what is happening and to be able to be part of what needs to change.  I don’t know if they can do it.  I suppose that like all human beings, some will and some won’t.  I have to hope that enough police officers can do this work, but I have no illusions about how hard it will be and what it will ask them to give up.  I can see them circling the wagons and I recognize it for what it is, because we clergy circle the wagons too.  It’s a form of self-preservation that is fueled by fear.

Sometimes the answer is not to circle the wagons.  The answer is to open up and to become vulnerable, to welcome accountability.  It means giving up some power.  It means giving up the projections.  It means giving up some of what it means to be a police officer.  It means allowing a certain form of police identity to die.

That’s really scary.

But this is what I hope enough police officers will be able to see.  When they give up the power they think they have now, they can claim a very different kind of power –   the power of relationship, the power of partnership, the power of mutuality, the power of community, the power that comes through building respect and trust.  This is actually a much stronger form of power.  If the police can see the incredible opportunity in this moment, we have the chance of saving the hearts of our police officers, the bodies of black and brown people, and the soul of our nation.

Please tell me this isn’t a pipe dream.

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What History Books Should Say About Ferguson

Originally posted on TIME:

When the grand jury decision not to indict officer Darren Wilson in the shooting of Mike Brown was announced late Monday evening in Ferguson, Mo., the world was watching. After hours of delay, misleading “Breaking News” banners, and a preemptive build-up of riot management forces on Ferguson streets, we were more than ready to hear the verdict. But the lengthy remarks delivered by St. Louis County prosecuting attorney Robert McCulloch were far less welcome.

McCulloch padded his announcement with nearly 30 minutes of narrative, detailing his own particular version of events in Ferguson since August 9, 2014, when Brown, an unarmed black teenager was fatally shot in the street. He complimented local authorities, conveniently choosing not to mention their internationally panned militarized assault on citizens in the days following Brown’s death. He praised his own management of the process, conveniently ignoring the fact that Attorney General Eric Holder had to…

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“Know it. See it. And Love it.” Reflections after the Grand Jury Reveal

Last night I had the privilege of sitting with a room full of millenials at the Jail Support Hotline Office, a service provided to the St. Louis activists who are protesting nightly for the complete reform of the legal system so that it is equally protective of people of color as it is of white people. The Jail Support Hotline tracks arrests, arranges for legal representation and bail support, contacts the family and friends of those who are arrested, contacts the police stations regularly for updates about those arrested, and arranges for transportation for those released. To be sitting with this group of dedicated volunteers, who staff the hotline 24/7, was such a powerful experience. Everyone was tweeting and facebooking. Laptops carried the local media coverage, the 24/7 cable news channels, and livestreamers who were embedded with the protesters to ensure that there is accurate footage of what is happening on the ground. We also watched Prosecuting Attorney Bob McCullough’s press release together last night. It was good to be together and it was extremely hard to be together.

I have no doubt that Bob McCullough believes in what he is doing. I have no doubt that law enforcement believes in what it is doing. I have no doubt that first responders believe in what they are doing. I have no doubt that the politicians believe what they are doing. I have no doubt that the Grand Jury believes in what it has done. I have no doubt many Americans believe that the democratic process came to bear on this situation. I have no doubt that Governor Jay Nixon believed that it was the right thing to call a State of Emergency. I have no doubt that those who cancelled school and cancelled concerts and cancelled social gatherings believed in what they were doing.   Many many people believe in the legitimacy of response to what is happening in our city.

But what the protesters have said repeatedly is that the problem is not with individuals, it is with the system. The system is corrupt. Our law enforcement is charged to uphold a system that is corrupt. The Grand Jury was asked to make a determination within a corrupt system.   We ask law enforcement and our politicians and our governor to be able to determine what is a true threat, what is true danger, when we know that black anger is frequently interpreted differently from white anger and that those different interpretations often have the force of the law behind them. The system as it exists, the way the investigation regarding Michael Brown was carried out, the process by which Bob McCullough convened the Grand Jury, the way the evidence has been interpreted, and the way the city has responded to largely peaceful protesters shows us that the system is broken. It shows us that some lives matter more than others.

After the decision was revealed, there was peaceful protest and there was violent protest. Not surprisingly, given our society’s addiction to violence and sensationalism, the mainstream media has focused on the violent protest and largely continued to define an entire movement by that violence. This is another example of tokenism. The actions of a small minority are used to define an entire group, sometimes even an entire race.

I cannot condone violence, but there is a difference between condoning violence and trying to understand it. The media owes it to the public, to us, to help us understand the longstanding history and experience behind the violence that we saw on our TV screens last night, both from some protesters and some law enforcement. The mainstream media has failed in its responsibility to hold up this experience and to help the public understand its many layers. Instead they have by and large drawn on the cultural stereotype of black rage as violence.

The mainstream media has failed to help the American people understand the racist systems that enact daily violence on people of color. Centuries of bearing that violence have built up layers and layers of rage and pain. Here are some of last night’s tweets from Deray McKesson, one of the leaders of the protest movement in our city:

If you think people “enjoyed” last night, then you don’t understand the performance of masking deep, deep, pain.

 See, some people want our love to look like silence. They want us to honor our dead children in tears only.

 Know it. Love is what keeps us here 109 days later. Love sometimes sits with rage. And anger. And pain. And grief. But it is love.

 Love is in the heart of every protester who is fighting so her son, neighbor, daughter can live another day.

 I would cry if I had the energy. Protesters are in pain. If you can’t understand this pain, then you don’t understand blackness.

As Deray so eloquently put it, we have to have the courage to understand the violence and the pain behind it. And, in a national culture that gives such primary to the power of the individual and the value of the individual, we have to find a way to wrap our heads around the truth that there are deep systems of racism in this country that are incredibly violent and that we are all a part of this violence. When white people deny the reality of this systemic violence, we strengthen it.

It is putting our heads in the sand to think that our society can enact the daily violence of structural racism on the bodies and minds of people of color and expect no violence from those who are oppressed. Who among us could withstand such pressure, and for how long?

When the Grand Jury chose not to indict Darren Wilson, this became a sign to many people of color that once again, the white guy got away with it. The system consciously and unconsciously protected the privileged place of whites in our society. Black lives really don’t matter, not when it comes down to the wire.

So what do we do now? The protest organizers were pretty sure this non-indictment was coming.   They know this is just the beginning and have been planning for this for a long time.

So I’m going to head back to the Jail Support Hotline because the protesters aren’t going home, not for a long time.   Some of you have been participating in weekly vigils, some at Eliot Unitarian Chapel’s Tuesday night vigil, others at Emerson Unitarian Universalist’s Saturday morning vigil. These will continue. We will keep educating ourselves and talking about what we have learned. We will keep pressuring law enforcement and the legal system and the legislative system to make systematic changes. We’ll be there for our friends and family who are in positions of power and privilege as they struggle with what is being asked of them. Some of us will take this into our schools and our churches and our neighborhoods and our families. We will take risks with our relationships to speak truth to power. We will donate to the Jail Support Bail Fund. We’ll donate to the St. Louis Area Foodbank. We’ll go down into the communities most affected and help clean up. We’ll make sure we go beyond the mainstream media to get our information. We’ll talk to our children. We will pray and meditate. We will cry and we will ponder. We will sing. We’ll go to church. And we’ll know when to ask for help because it’s just getting too hard to hold it all.

But mostly, we’ll keep loving. Because that’s what this is about. This is about love, the power of love, and the enduring abiding truth that love always has the last word.

Yours, always, in faith,

Rev. Krista Taves

Emerson Unitarian Universalist Chapel, Chesterfield MO


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White Aggression in West St. Louis County

In October, Love First, Emerson Unitarian Universalist Chapel’s Social Justice Team, made the decision to host a weekly vigil for racial justice in Chesterfield MO, a western suburb, at one of the busiest intersections of town, Boone’s Crossing and Chesterfield Airport Road. There were many reasons involved in this decision. Love First wanted our congregation to have a physical presence in relation to the events that have deeply affected our city since Michael Brown, a black teenager, was shot by Officer Darren Wilson in early August. The shooting has brought to light many of the tensions faced by people of color in our city, including distrustful relationships with law enforcement. There have been non-stop protests since the day of the shooting. We wanted to bring this issue to West County. For many of our members, this is our home and we know that things are not right here. We know that West County was created by white flight out of the city. Many of the assumptions made about the protesters in Ferguson are part of long standing racial prejudices in this city that created the shape of where we live and how we live. This is not just about Ferguson. This is about our city and our nation. This is about the unfinished work of the American Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s.

Our vigils take place every Saturday from 11:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m. We hold signs that say “Black Lives Matter” or “Ferguson Lives Here” or “E-racism.” We stand for one hour facing the busy traffic of people coming and going from the Chesterfield Commons.

The first Saturday, 17 people joined together. We were joined by two members of the First Unitarian Church of St. Louis and two people unconnected to a UU congregation but who heard about our vigil. The response from the traffic was enlightening. Almost every vehicle with black occupants greeted us with gratitude and excitement. We received thumbs up, the enclosed fist symbolizing black power, honks, lots of pictures and videos, and verbal thanks. The response from whites was primarily silence although we were definitely noticed. A few gave us thumbs down, the finger, or shouted profanities out the window, but that was few and far between.

Last Saturday, 11 of us stood out there in the cold windy morning.   We were joined by one member of Eliot Chapel and the same two people who joined us the week prior. The mood was very different today than the first week. There was a higher level of verbal aggression from whites. More shooting the finger and thumbs down. One young man screamed “I hate black people.” A young girl, around 12-13 yrs old, clearly supported by her mother, screamed, “Go home! Go home!” Another older woman shouted, “Support the cops b****es” and yet another screamed, “All lives matter sweetheart!” which is similar to a slogan used at a white protest elsewhere in the city today. A white driver almost seemed to propel himself out the window of his semi truck truck in rage that we were there. There were some whites expressing their support through thumbs up, honking and waving, including the driver of a semi truck who kept honking as he drove by.

We did get a lot of honks from black drivers and occupants, but whereas almost every single car with black occupants expressed their support last Saturday, today more remained silent.

I am wondering if the escalating tension in the city is part of the increased silence from blacks and higher aggression by whites. We all knew the Grand Jury Reveal was unlikely to come before the mid-term elections. The election is finished now, and the grand jury reveal is closer to being a reality.

It was unnerving to be the focus of that kind of hatred. Those of us who stood there have experienced first hand the many ways that whites police each other to preserve the privilege of whiteness. Whites who stand for racial equality often meet incredible anger form other whites and pressure to be silent. Those slurs were about shaming us and intimidating us back into an acceptable whiteness that remains silent in the face of racism. When we gathered for coffee after the vigil, the unanimous feeling around the table is that the resistance we experienced proved why we need to be doing what we’re doing.  For many of us, especially those of us who are white, this was a shocking eye opener to a side of our community many of us have never seen this clearly.  We knew things were not right in St. Louis, but the increasing boldness of whites to express outright racist ideas and beliefs, with no fear of impunity, has been sobering.  The Ferguson situation has exposed a level of racism that has always been there, but more latent and under the surface.   This is what our black and brown sisters and brothers have been living with all these years.  It saddens and angers me.

This experience has confirmed for me what our primary job is as white allies standing in solidarity with people of color. Our job is to change the hearts and minds of white people because that’s where the institutional power is.

Rev. Barbara Gadon, Senior Minister of Eliot Unitarian Chapel, preached about our vigil to her congregation on Sunday. Eliot Chapel knows about vigils. They have held vigil for racial justice every Tuesday since Michael Brown’s shooting. When they heard about our experience, many became committed to supporting us. A carload of Eliot members will be joining us this Saturday. I hope you will too.  We will gather every Saturday from 11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., plus Black Friday, until Christmas.

Many of you have concerns about your children’s safety were they to participate in our vigils. To date, we have received no physical threats. The only aggression we have experienced is from whites. You will need to decide how comfortable you are with your child or youth experiencing verbal aggression, often using foul language, from strangers in moving vehicles.

Thank you to everyone who came on Saturday. I was so proud to stand with you, witnessing in such a real and immediate way to our values of respect and diversity and truth-telling. It was a blessing to stand with you all.

Yours in faith, Rev. Krista.

20141108_134723Saturday, November 8, 2014.

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Why We Don’t Have Children’s Church Anymore

Why We Don’t Have Children’s Church Anymore.

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Getting on Noah’s Ark: Diversity as Salvation

“Unitarian Universalism has a long history of finding ways for the differences between us to find their place among us. We keep trying to make the ark bigger. This is a result of our history. Both Unitarianism and Universalism were created when our founders were kicked out of their churches by more conservative Christians who labeled them heretics. That experience was so painful that both Unitarians and Universalists vowed to create religious traditions that could expand with differences of opinion. It wasn’t always easy. They were tested many times, and many times tempted to small up the ark, but time and time again, they managed to make the ark bigger.”

This sermon was delivered to the good people of Emerson Unitarian Universalist Chapel ( on Sunday, October 19, 2014.


I am not the kind of person who often has random conversations with strangers. I’m pretty shy and generally keep to myself. But recently I’ve thought it might be nice to change that. I have many extroverted friends and they seem to meet so many neat people. I’d like to have more of those kinds of experiences.

This week, I had my chance.   I had to go to the dentist, and one of the things I like about my dentist is that he stocks magazines that I’ll never buy, like Good Housekeeping and Southern Living. I found this great recipe for turkey leftovers. As I was taking a photo of it to bring home, I noticed the other woman in the waiting room looking at me strangely. “Recipe…” I mumbled, and she asked what the recipe was. Here was my chance to be more outgoing! “Turkey leftovers. Do you have turkey leftovers?” She laughed. “I have three sons. That’ll never happen!” That’s how we started to talk. I learned all about her three sons, but it didn’t take long for her to settle on the son that she is most worried about, her middle son who has a little boy from an unplanned pregnancy.   And it’s gone all wrong.

The girlfriend has disappeared, and this woman’s 25 year-old son is now the primary caregiver of this little boy and he’s moved back in because he can’t afford an apartment and full-time childcare. This woman is so worried about her grandson. “Should we ever tell him what his mother was like?” she said. And I said, “Yes, I think so.” “But won’t that hurt him?” she said. And I said, “It might. But secrets hurt more. People need to know their history.”

Then the conversation turned to her awesome Bible study group. She told me how comforting it is to know that everyone has a burden. Just last week they studied the story of Noah’s Ark and the flood. In the story, God decides that humanity is so lost that it’s time to start again. He tells Noah to build an ark and fill it with his family and two of every animal. When the rains begin God closes the door of the ark and as the boat rises in the water, evil is left behind. In that dentist’s waiting room, the woman told me that she has hope and does not despair, because when Jesus comes again, she will be on that ark, and as God closes the door, Jesus will separate the good from the evil, and there will be brand a new start.

Even though I bristle at the idea that any God could simply define people as good or evil and destroy most of them, I had a feeling that I was in the presence of something special. This woman had opened her heart to me. I don’t think she realized who she was opening her heart to, but I could hear her, not in the sense of believing in the rapture or the story of Noah. Like many Unitarian Universalists, I see the bible as a collection of sacred stories written by human beings seeking to understand the deepest yearnings of the human heart. I heard her because I knew the burden she was carrying. Just like her, I have my own burdens. Just like her, we all have our burdens. And like her, we are always trying to manage those burdens and manage the anxiety they bring us so that we can have hope.   Who of us has not wanted to obliterate our burdens?

All of humanity is united by the fact that life is filled with struggle. So, even though I could choose to be offended by the comfort she gets thinking of her enemies being destroyed, it makes sense. She is understandably angry that her grandson has been abandoned by his mother. She finds comfort in a God who would eliminate her grandson’s pain when he is old enough to ask where his mother is. Who would not want to protect their child from that pain?

But, I think it is important to recognize that as Unitarian Universalists we do have different answers for suffering. Our response to suffering is not to wait for the end times, trusting that God will slay our enemies.   In fact, the whole idea that humanity can be divided into good and evil is dangerous. It gives human beings the moral authority to write each other off. It gives us permission to believe that we are better or worse than other people. It creates arrogance and it creates shame.

Our Unitarian Universalist theology has two answers for suffering: everyone is saved, and we embrace diversity. Everyone is saved, and we embrace diversity.

Let’s start with the first one because I know that references to “being saved” and “salvation” make a lot of Unitarian Universalists squirm a bit in our seats. But believe it or not, Unitarian Universalism has a strong theology of salvation. It’s not much like the salvation many of us learned about, but it’s there and it’s very alive.

Unitarian Universalism has its roots in Liberal Protestant Christianity. The Universalist side of our heritage started in the late 1700s in Britain as a rebellion against using the threat of hell to get people to behave. Universalists rebelled against the idea that the only reason people do good is because they are afraid of punishment. They believed this didn’t give humanity enough credit. We don’t need fear to do the right thing because we are created by God, and God is good, therefore our natural inclination is goodness.

They also said that if God really is good, then God could not possibly damn any of his creation to hell. God has the power to reconcile all evil to him or herself. We had to trust in the mysteries of God, the spirit, and the human heart. This trust allows us to stop judging others, stop shaming others, stop fooling ourselves with arrogance, and instead focus on our own lives. Universalists loved the Bible verse, “Why worry about the speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in our own?”

Today, many of us are no longer just Christian, we are also atheist and agnostic, theist, Buddhist, pagan, or just plain Unitarian Universalist, but this doesn’t change the teaching. We still try to trust in the mysteries of the universe and the human heart. In fact, our lives depend on that trust, because to live in distrust and fear creates hell on earth.

One of the ways we try to live in that place of trust is by our deep affirmation and embrace of diversity. We are not as concerned about what is locked out of the ark when the rains come, but rather what is inside it. We don’t seek salvation by exclusion, but rather by a radical inclusion. For UUs salvation is not something you have to wait for until you die. Salvation can happen here and now when we live in trust.

So for instance, when you encounter something in another human being that makes you step back a bit, they make a decision you don’t like, or they believe something you don’t, or they do something you don’t understand, or they look different from you or act differently or love differently, you are called to resist that urge to make snap judgments. Instead, you try to honor the spark of the divine in each of us and pause for moment. You ask if there is something that you need to learn from the difference that you are experiencing. Is there some way you are being asked to grow, expand how you see things, to choose a different action?

Let’s take an example that’s very close to home right now that faces us every time we turn on the TV or the radio or go online.

Our city is experiencing a dramatic increase in racial tension. Many African Americans in our city widely believe that Michael Brown’s shooting was murder. They want Darren Wilson charged. They want Bob McCullough to step aside. They believe that the shooting of Michael Brown is one more example of how African Americans are oppressed every single day. Many African Americans are unlikely to trust anything said by the police and assume the legal system is not going to support them. They are assuming that Darren Wilson will not be indicted.

Most whites in our city don’t understand what the big deal is and want it to go away. Many don’t understand the history by which their parents, grandparents, great grandparents kept making new towns to keep out black residents. Most have never experienced law enforcement as anything but supportive and protective. So, when they hear the term, “racial profiling” many don’t believe it. And, they don’t understand the anger. There is widespread criticism of the protests, the assumption that they’re all violent, and that the protesters are dangerous.   Some whites have expressed that if Darren Wilson is indicted, it will only be because of political pressure. And if Darren Wilson is not indicted, many will believe that there was no basis for any of the complaints raised by the protesters.

This is a pretty hard place to be in and I don’t know what the path is out of it. I wish I did.   Then I think about Noah’s Ark. I wonder how we all get on that ark and what needs to be washed away. Our Universalist heritage tells me that we don’t all need to believe the same thing to get on that ark. And when the rains come, what’s left outside is not people, it’s ideas and beliefs, it’s old loyalties, it’s economic and political systems that kill our spirits, and kill our bodies. Those rains are no longer a punishment, but a cleansing. How many of us look at the divisions of our city and hunger for a cleansing?

Unitarian Universalism has a long history of finding ways for the differences between us to find their place among us. We keep trying to make the ark bigger. This is a result of our history. Both Unitarianism and Universalism were created when our founders were kicked out of their churches by more conservative Christians who labeled them heretics. That experience was so painful that both Unitarians and Universalists vowed to create religious traditions that could expand with differences of opinion. It wasn’t always easy. They were tested many times, and many times tempted to small up the ark, but time and time again, they managed to make the ark bigger.

This wasn’t just about embracing differences of opinion, but real differences of experience. Our embrace of feminism, for instance, was a way of honoring the experience of women and valuing it equally with the experience of men. Women were paying such a huge price; still pay a price, when they are not valued equally. The same is true for our embrace of sexual and gender minorities. Our commitment to diversity is not just an intellectual idea; it has real-life consequences. It saves lives.

Our commitment to diversity asks us to step into the messiness of life with an open heart. We can’t just turn away from the things we don’t understand, or that make us uncomfortable. We stay on the ark.

Where I’ve come to is this. None of us can force someone off the ark, but we can force ourselves off of the ark when we succumb to close mindedness and small thinking. We exclude ourselves from the ark when we allow fear and distrust to rule our hearts. We put ourselves in the path of the flood and allow ourselves to be washed away.

If Darren Wilson is not indicted, those of us who consider ourselves moderates are going to be mightily tested because violence may very well erupt. If that happens, many whites are going to use that as the excuse to turn away, the same way they turned away after Martin Luther King was assassinated and the riots erupted. I believe that our commitment to diversity is to stay on the ark, and I don’t know what that looks like, but I ask myself that every day now. What will it mean to be an ally if the streets run with blood, if the SWAT teams come back and St. Louis returns to top billing in the 24-hour news cycle? I don’t want to fear monger. I hope this does not happen. I also don’t want to be naïve.

This week, I want you to think about that ark. I want you to imagine that the sky is darkening and you know the rain is coming. You stand by the doors of the ark, helping people climb inside. When those first drops start to fall, you grab the ropes on that door and you pull hard. The door closes with a thud, and you feel the boat lift up, caught in the rising current. Who is with you on that boat? What are you leaving behind?

In that answer, lies your salvation. In that answer, lies my salvation. In that answer, lies our salvation.

May the spirit be with you and yours. Amen and blessed be.

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A Pastoral Letter to Members of the Ferguson, Missouri Police Force


A very insightful blog from a minister in St. Louis MO.

Originally posted on A More Peaceful Table:

ferguson1Sisters and brothers on the Ferguson police force,

Grace and peace to you. On Monday I stood outside the Ferguson police station with hundreds of other clergy, asking for justice for Michael Brown, and for a change in our police culture. I was one of the faith leaders reading a litany through a bullhorn.

As part of that demonstration, I watched my colleagues in ministry – Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Buddhist – approach those of you who were holding the line. Those clergy came very close to you. They got in your personal space, I could tell by your body language. I couldn’t hear what they said to each of you. We had agreed that those who spoke with you would say, “You are part of the system that has killed Michael Brown. I call you to repentance, and I offer to hear your confession.” Maybe they actually said that to you…

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