Rage boils over onto I-35 in Austin, TX as I write this, and Minneapolis literally burns for justice. As cries for racial justice are ringing out from sea to shining sea in America, I lament, and I am reminded from Chris Rice and Emmanuel Katangole in their book, Reconciling All Things, what lament requires of me.
Lament requires that I unlearn speed.
1. Justice and reconciliation work requires a commitment to the long haul; a messy stumbling and fumbling forward, a slow walk in the same direction with guides who have been in the fight for generations.
2. Lament requires me to slow down so that I can listen to the cries of brothers and sisters in pain.
3. It requires me to slow down to do my own interior work of recognizing and dismantling the internalized superiority that a racialized country has bequeathed to me.
4. Lament requires me to confront my need for quick fixes and easy solutions and to challenge my tendency to look to power structures or to myself for the answers rather than look to those who are closest to the pain.
Lament requires that I unlearn distance.
1. Lament means I move toward and get closer to suffering, pain, and injustice.
2. It means I examine where I am centered. As a follower of Jesus, I seek to be centered in Christ, and if that is the case, I will then also center myself with him outside of places of power. Jesus demonstrated this from his birth in a cave to peasant teens and through his entire walk on earth all the way to his death on a hill for criminals outside of the Jerusalem, the center of power.
Lament requires that I unlearn innocence.
1. Another way we resist the voice of the oppressed is “in our tendency to think of ourselves as an innocent solution delivering help to places of human need and conflict.” (p.85 Reconciling All Things) Lament requires that we weep over the lies that tell us we are the bringers of transformation for those in need, when the truth is that we have tremendous need for transformation ourselves.
2. Lament requires that I not only grieve and mourn for my neighbors living under an oppressive system, but I also grieve and mourn my own captivity and my apathy toward a real flourishing for all, including myself, by not challenging structural racism or working toward justice.
3. Lament is a weeping, confessing, and repenting. It is a look back at the history of racism and a holy sorrow of how we have not accurately seen or thought about others or ourselves.
Lament is a starting place. It is also ongoing as we battle the powers and principalities of the insidious and stubborn nature of racism. Unlearning speed, distance, and innocence is needed on this journey.