In
the sixth chapter of Acts, there is this account of the early church:
1Now during those days, when the disciples were
increasing in number, the Greek-speaking Jewish converts complained against the
Hebrew-speaking Jewish converts because their widows were being neglected in
the daily distribution of food. 2And the twelve called together the whole
community of the disciples and said, “All widows matter.” And that settled it.
Actually,
that is not what they said and not how they settled it. Instead, it went this
way:
2And the twelve called together the whole
community of the disciples and said, ‘It is not right that we should neglect
the word of God in order to wait at tables. 3Therefore, friends, select from
among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom,
whom we may appoint to this task, 4while we, for our part, will devote
ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.’ 5What they said pleased the whole
community.
It
appears there was a division in the earliest church and a disparity in how the
widows of one group were being treated vis a vis the other. Given the tensions
it might have been tempting for the twelve, being Hebrew-speaking Jewish
converts, to deny the disparity. They did not. Rather, they formed the order of
deacons to issue that everyone received a fair share.
We
have heard from our African-American sisters and brothers that there is a
disparity in the way they are treated. In the case of Ahmaud Arbery, Christian
Cooper, and George Floyd; we have not only heard, we have seen it. This is true
across the board. Particularly, and much too often, our black brothers and
sisters report that this disparity of treatment shows up in their engagement
with the police and the courts. This gives the impression that justice for them
– indeed their very lives – is worth less. Hence the cry, “Black Lives Matter.”
One does not need to endorse all the views of the organization that calls itself Black Lives Matter to understand and endorse the sentiment of the slogan. For the vast majority of those declaring Black Lives Matter do not. Nor is the the
point of Black Lives Matter that other lives do not matter. It is not that the lives of police or anyone
else do not matter. The Greek-speaking converts did not insist that their
widows mattered more than the Hebrew-speaking widows. They were demanding
fairness and justice where fairness and justice were not being applied. So it
is with Black Lives Matter.
Those
of us who are white have the same choice as the disciples in Acts 6. We can
ignore or deny the injustice. We can avoid dealing with it by deflecting and
insisting that all lives matter so we do not have to deal with the reality that
it is not in fact always true in our society that all lives matter. Or we can acknowledge that something is wrong in
the way black people have been and are being treated. With them we can affirm and
insist that Black Lives do indeed Matter. We can acknowledge that racism is a corrosive reality
in America and one with a long, deep, and pervasive history. We can commit
ourselves to doing something to address that history and change that reality.
What
if we, like the disciples in Acts 6, faced the injustice? They formed the order
of deacons – servants – to insure fairness. What if we committed ourselves to
be better servants of our black neighbors? What if we listened better, with
open hearts and non-defensiveness, to their stories of injustice? How might we,
like deacons, advocate with and for them? What diaconal policies and laws might
we advocate for to insure more justice?
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