SILENCE IN SACRED SPACES

Truth be told, there's just some things that we don't talk about in our churches, in our sacred spaces. We generally shy away from acknowledging and unambiguously condemning sexual predation in our sacred spaces and, on those occasions where something is said, one cannot help but detect a certain kind of waffling that readily reveals sympathy for the victimizer than the victim. And this is especially true if the victimizer is a popular and powerful member of "the club." Oh, we'll offer prayers but those prayers too often sound like pleas to protect the predator. But as for the victim, as for the person preyed upon, the typical response is silence.

Same for popular and powerful leaders who financially fleece their flock. Silence. Despite the fact that said "investment opportunity" has all the classic signs of a scam, has all the traits of a trick to separate people from their money. All the signs of an infinity fraud. You know, a scheme where the fraudsters prey upon members of their own racial, ethnic, or religious group. Schemes where you use your affinity with the soon-to-be fleeced as a means to get into their pockets. And, as in the case of sexual predation, we again offer up prayers that manifest compassion for the fraudster rather than the victims of the fraud. We come up with innumerable excuses for the perpetrator, with a nary a word--unless pressed-- for folks left reeling from the financial wreckage that now marks their lives.

I genuinely believe that some of us to do see the damage done by the silence but we fear the consequences of not keeping our peace. Losing proximity to power. Getting trapped on one of the shaky rungs on that long ecclesiastical ladder--or perhaps even slipping off the ladder all together. Saying something that might make the money shaky. Being shunned. Not getting invited to the party.

God creates us for community and the thought of being banished can awaken some of our deepest fears. And if we need to know what that's like, if we need to know what's it's like being an outlier, then we'd do well to consult those who have experienced what it's like being ignored and denied full membership in the moral community. But the fact of that matter is this: Our fear of the risks that might accompany us condemning acts like the aforementioned only results in strengthening and making the silence that much more suffocating. Especially in those spaces where we profess to believe in the human dignity and worth of every single person. In other words, especially in our sacred spaces.

WHAT WE PROFESS AND WHAT WE PRACTICE

The silence in our sacred spaces reflects---and contributes to-- a yawning gap between what we profess and what we practice. We profess to believe that all are created in God's image and, therefore, that all have an inherent and inestimable worth. An inherent and inestimable worth that is to promoted and protected. But, in practice, we far too often act as if some are of more worth than others. And this goes beyond our adoration of the powerful. It often includes a disdain for certain people. And those who are disdained in our sacred spaces rarely, if ever, get our attention; those who are disdained in our sacred spaces, at the very least, are pushed outside of our moral view. Their names are never mentioned. They are a paradigmatic example of what it means to be erased by silence. Think about this: When's the last time--keep it 100%-- when you've heard these names uttered in your sacred spaces:

Monika Diamond

Nina Pop

Tony McDade

Dominique "Rem'mie" Fells

Riah Milton?

Brian "Egypt" Powers

Merci Mack

Shaki Peters

When's the last time you've heard these names uttered in the sacred spaces you frequent? From the Pulpit? In the Pews? In this age where we-- in our sacred spaces--profess that we believe Black Lives Matter, why have these names been shrouded in silence? Why relatively few, if any, prayers for their families? What's up with the silence in our sacred spaces, in our churches? Why no sermons that center their names?

They Black too.

They victims of violence too.

Why the lack of sound, why the noiselessness, why the absence of words?

They Black too.

They victims of violence too.

They're Black. They had their lives snuffed out by violence. But they're also trans. And herein, I believe, is a huge reason why their names are not uttered, why they are erased by the silence in our sacred space. As much as we hate to say it, as much as it may hurt to hear it: We have a hierarchy of value when it comes to Black lives. We value some Black lives more than others. Certain "kinds" of Blacks are much more likely to get "air time" than others.

It matters not that violence against transgender and gender non-conforming individuals is on the rise. It matters not that the majority of transgender women who have been murdered are Black. Left in ditches. Side streets. Parks. Desolate areas. It matters not because although we profess that all are created in the image of God and therefore of inestimable worth, our practice rises up and testifies against our profession. It matters not because, quite frankly, we've got nothing but silence for

Blacks who don't fit the supposed norm

Blacks who are different or "Other."

Blacks whose presence we find theologically offensive

When we talk about police violence against Black bodies, we’ve got nothing for "these" Blacks.

When we talk about the human dignity of Black bodies, we’ve got nothing for "these" Blacks

When we talk about how poverty disproportionately punishes Black bodies, we’ve got nothing "these" Blacks.

"These" Blacks get silence because the practices in our social spaces scream out that "some," rather than "all" Black lives matter.

While others get "shout-outs," "these" get "silence."

CLOSING THE GAP BETWEEN PROFESSION AND PRACTICE

So, if we're are to be a sacred space that truly values the lives of who are created in image of God, if we are to rise up when the human rights and dignity of any is violated, if we are to value all Black lives rather than some Black lives, then the challenge that lays before us to close the gap between what we profess and what we practice. The challenge is to shatter the silence that saturates our sacred spaces. Anything less is completely unacceptable.

May the memory and spirit of Monica Roberts move us to do not just better, but more better.

Catch you on the flip side

Doc Greene