Baltimore

I was excited to visit the city of The Wire we got the train from New York City to Baltimore as we arrived into Baltimore through the North of the City it looked worse than Flint or Detroit, burnt out houses, graffiti over everything, rubbish flying around and empty streets apart from the odd beaten up car. The other reason that there was a level of anticipation for our trip was that there had been riots over the city the same week of our arrival, that sounded and felt very similar to the London riots in 2011.

We met Revd. Jim Hamilton of Church on the Square at the station and he drove us through Baltimore to the central east side which is where his house is and church also. As we drove through he streets we saw the Projects where The Wire was filmed and the central office buildings - it was slightly weird but also slightly exciting.

Here are some of my reflections:

1. Small town: Several people said to me that Baltimore is a city that has a small town mentality, and I can certainly relate to that in my experience. As I walked the neighborhood with Jim people stopped waved and chatted (I partly think this is down to Jim’s charisma but not exclusively). The deeper thought I had was whether it felt like that because it is a deeply divided community, with the African American community separated from the White American community, small towns living next to each other.

2. There are people that talk and there are people that do: As Jim has co-Pastor John and I boarded up windows of shops that had been looted in the riots, we were watched by a large crew of reports and ‘officials’ (I think they were from the Mayors office). It felt strangely awkward that there were far more people talking about what the few of us were doing. It sort of compounded the feeling of ‘us’ and ‘them’: distance and separation. This is some of the division and difference that some have argued formed the basis of the riots. In difference and division issues of racism, poverty and injustice are all the more visible and painful.

3. How to make a difference: We sat with a church as their collective heart was aching and breaking for the lost of a young life and the brokenness of their city, it was a privilege to hear their thoughts on how they might change the situation. My first reflection is it is often hard to think about what the solutions are in the mist of the action, pain or hurt; we need time to process and measure. Second, a true compassion is at first hurting with those that are hurting. For example: ‘Jesus wept’ (John 11:35) - Jesus with Mary and Martha is just one example of Jesus’ compassion. Thirdly, it’s important to carefully think about what our response is and who it is for. It is easy to respond to these situations in a way which is more about us than about the community or others around us, especially as youth workers with saviour complexes!


It has taken me a long time to think about and write this blog, Baltimore is a strange, beautiful and intriguing City and one I hope to revisit.

Well that’s the US trip over, I hope you have found the reflections helpful or interesting.

Burning Branches - Part 2

It is easier to believe that Baltimore was ‘mindless hooliganism’ rather than a complex response to the oppression we might all share responsibility for.

Of course, the riot was as Obama described created by some ‘criminals and thugs’, not to mention hooligans as intoxicated local sports fans of all races joined in with other opportunists. But there amongst these criminals, hooligans - whatever we choose to name them - are human beings who have been treated unjustly and are burning with rage. How do we respond to these people that we now name criminals? Do we simply lock them away so we can continue doing things as we have always done them?

These ‘hooligans' are our neighbours. As I have been reflecting throughout these weeks - we name people as we know them. Even if we consider these people ‘the least’ of our society, what does that mean? Jesus tells us ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' (Matt 25:40). The ‘least’ of these who joined in in the riots – whoever they were - the poorly educated, the homeless, the jobless, the poor, the addicts, the youth, the opportunists, the criminals - whatever we call them - why where they there at all?

At least some of these people acted out of rage: for justice for Freddie Gray and for themselves. You may have read that Freddie like others in his area was living on a ‘lead cheque’ this is compensation for lead poisoning that left him and others in his local community unable to lead functional lives. In Freddie’s case, court papers describe a difficult upbringing: a disabled mother addicted to heroin who, in a deposition, said she couldn’t read, and Freddie himself was four grade behind in his reading. This story is not unique. In Sandtown-Winchester where Freddie lived a third of houses in the neighbourhood are abandoned. Local unemployment is over 50% (5.9% is the national average). A quarter of families receive Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) and the median household income for this area is substantially lower than the national average of America, with each home surviving on just $24,000 (£15, 700) yearly.

The centre for Justice Policy reveals that Baltimore saw 145.1 kids out of every thousand citywide arrested between 2005 and 2009. In Sandtown-Winchester/Harlem Park, that number was 252. A local newspaper points out that means a quarter — one out of four youth — of all 10-to-17-year-olds in Gray's neighbourhood were arrested between 2005-2009. This is not much of a future to aspire to.  

So what is the answer to this group of people who got so fed up with living these lives they decided to set fire to them, and to loot and to steal and to run? How can we respond? Arrest more of them?

Gregory Boyle writes, 'Here is what we seek: a compassion that can stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgement at how they carry it'. We seek justice, but how do we find justice for everyone, and justice that meets compassion?

I don't carry the same burdens, and so the same rage that many of those 'hooligans' carry. My privilege means that not only will I not be unlikely to be falsely or rightly arrested, not only will I complete a good education, have a job and have enough privilege to help others, not only will I never know what its like to grow up on a street where houses are routinely set alight, not only will I have access to health and legal care that I need, not only will I avoid encountering experience racism in my day-to-day life, not only will I not need to riot to have my voice heard, but when I see these stories on my television or in a newspaper or on the internet, I will have the power to turn them off, to close them down and pretend they don’t affect me.

Of course will also have the power to realize that they do affect me, and that I affect them. I have the power to realize that whist my privilege brings choice, it also brings responsibility. I have lived, and may always live, alongside those who carry burdens that I cannot comprehend. I have the power to let Christ burn down the bad branches in me and allow me to abide in Christ, to find His love and compassion in the midst of violence, and name-calling and fear... dare I respond with compassion?

Burning Branches - Part 1

Listening to Revd. Jim Hamilton and the responses of the congregation of Church on the Square in Baltimore, what stuck with me is that rage is not logical. In the midst of so much chaos and high tensions, Jim reminded us to hold our judgment for a second on the events that have unfolded. That is to remember that rage is neither calculated nor present without a catalyst.

Rage, like love, is an emotion. It does not carefully deliberate plans and consequences. Like a fire, it needs to be kindled, to be set alight with fuel, space and time before it burns. Once rage explodes it tends to engulf everything in its wake. Rage burns down ugly derelict houses in a neighbourhood as well as newly renovated houses that a community has spent itself to build. Rage can burn out an old car, but it can just as equally set alight Broadway East community’s church housing project for the elderly, a local small business without adequate insurance and a pharmacy that a community depends on for access to medicines.

Rage does not calculate wrongs, it is a violent, intense response to external cues. In the case of Baltimore the cues built up, until they were out of control. Such cues include the black Medic-Aid patient who routinely waits longer for a hospital bed than the white Medic-Aid patient, the mother whose innocent son is routinely pulled over and arrested, a little league of Black and Hispanic children on their way to play baseball that residents assume they are a street gang. These ‘everyday’ stories I heard in Baltimore are experiences that can build up, like the account of Freddie Gray, and if not given voice, can explode in rage.

If these stories are all contributory, then how far do we all bear responsibility for the rage that some of the people of Baltimore felt and the way in which they showed this? How far are we who watch the accounts on the television accountable for the actions we condemn on it?

Sunday's reading of John 15 reminds us that we respond to evil and to good by abiding in Jesus – because without Him we can do nothing (John 15:4-5). Jesus says ‘Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.’ We are invited to allow Christ to routinely burn and destroy the evil around us and inside of us: prejudice, hatred, oppression, murder. In doing this Christ burns away the parts of us that bear no good fruit.

If we hold on to our bad branches, and live within the bad branches of others, our chaos and hatred remains, fermenting over time like fuel, prime for explosion. Where the injustice simply festers in us and in our communities we risk everything:  by holding on to the prejudice and evil inside of us, we risk even the good branches that remain being burnt or destroyed in the explosion which can ensue.

Baltimore

We left Baltimore yesterday, full of mixed emotions. We were sad to have left so many amazing new friends, but also to have been with the city in the midst of so much tension, sadness and anger. Being with people of the churches and the community we experienced so much hope and potential amidst shock and confusion. It was early days, there didn’t seem to be much space for people to reflect in the midst of that world, things were constantly volatile. On Saturday we had joined with volunteers from across the neighbourhood to board up some of the shop fronts that had been destroyed by riots. There was a huge sense of hope of so many giving up their time to join in solidarity and service for the community. At the same time that morning, just four blocks away, a local shop owner was fatality shot. A city is always full of contradictions but in a time of such extreme emotion those contradictions are experienced like someone screaming right up in your face.

Yesterday folks from Church on the Square joined with hundreds across Baltimore to protest again. This time it was not a protest to necessarily change the government or powers that be – the district attorney had already made a moving statement to pronounce that justice would continue to be fought for Freddie Gray and his family. This it was a protest of solidarity to change ourselves and our future, to end a culture of fear, of poverty and of racism. The protest went from the Northwest District through to the Southeast, inviting neighborhoods normally segregated by poverty and race to walk together. This was a march to simply be together as people who shared hope for each other and the city. A few hours later the curfew was lifted.

It is still early days for Baltimore and the city certainly needs our prayers. However I think I have learnt that we need to pray for ourselves also; for the prejudices and divisions, contradictions and wars that happen in our cities and in our hearts, often in silence. It was out of those same problems that happen all over the world that Baltimore’s current situation exploded.

Stoop-Out

There are some good stooping steps in Baltimore and so Church on the Square worked with the local community in Canton to have a stoop-out last night and tonight!

Stooping is basically stopping to sit on your doorstep, or other people’s doorstep or porch and chat. In the case of Church on the Square (as you can see from the photo) we basically brought all the furniture onto the pavement and had a party with live music, food and drink. People might walk around the neighbourhood to ‘stoop’ with other folks, to have a drink or eat and pass the night away.

The stoop-out has a few aims. The first is to connect with each other in the community, to talk about what has been happening in Baltimore and how people feel about that and to build confidence again in each other. The stoop out brings people out of their houses, challenging fears and offers people space to talk about their feelings.A map was created with other hang-outs throughout the neighbourhood, with live links on facebook. Local businesses joined in to try and get trade going in a really hard week.

Many of the local businesses have suffered through the riots - some suffering through stolen stock, fires and smashed windows - others through the curfew that has been enforced on the city from 10pm-5am. Bars and restaurants need to ensure employees are home by 10pm and consequently places close early and people just don’t come out to eat and drink in the evening. One bar owner told us he took $16 the previous evening. The stoop-out encouraged people to buy food from local businesses and take-out from the square before coming together to chat.

The stoop-out not only gave space for people to talk about the news and the community, it made some noise in a city square that is usually noisy on a Friday night! It wasn’t a protest, these have been happening throughout the last few days - but this it was a chance to dialogue with each other and journey together. Doing this gave people in the community a reason to smile and a chance to connect, to turn off the news reports and remember the people in their road as they continue to strive for justice and hope for their city's future.

Difference: Naming and Knowning

But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: 'Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.' Isaiah 43:1

A week or so ago I posted a blog about name calling, giving the example of how we name things as human beings, and the responsibility that comes with this.

Throughout our visit to Detroit, New York and now Baltimore I’ve been reflecting that naming something and knowing something is intimately connected.

Isaiah 43:1 reminds us that we are known at the same time that we are called by name. These two are linked in our relationship with God. We also discover that these two things are linked when we begin to draw close to seek to know God. The tetragrammaton, Yahweh, is one of the names that that we have for God and is one of the ways in which God makes God’s self known. This name is itself a revelation – those who translate it often use the phrase ‘I AM’. In having this name for God, God is in some way revealing God’s self to those who get close enough to hear it. Still it does not communicate all of who God is.

The name we call someone or to something reveals who or what we understand them to be – but this name does not reveal the full extent of all they are. What we call someone is much less an indication of what that person is and much more an indication of who we understand them to be. And sometimes it is actually far more an indication of ourselves.

For me this is all too telling in the advertising campaign in New York which has caused so much division in this city. Pamela Geller is behind adverts against muslims which are due to re-appear again on the transport network. The adverts, name a non-muslin as a ‘civilized man’ and a muslin as a ‘savage’. These names only reveal what Geller and others don’t know about another person who is different from them. It reveals her reluctance to sit with and dialogue with muslims in order to discover who they are. This practice of naming is simply a process of naming one’s own fears: but it is the sort of practice that destroys, rather than builds up, a city.

In response to Geller’s adverts, Rev Steve Holton and others in New York are encouraging a movement called #journeytogether. This is to offer lifts to muslims so that they don’t have to travel on public transport with the offensive signs and images, and so that those driving them can also get to know them and build relationships of support. The idea is that we are all journeying together – gaining knowledge of each other, of ourselves, and of our faith.

With the current division and mistrust between communities in Baltimore, James, Aahana and I have also been spending time with a church that is also creating opportunities in which the community positively finds ways to ‘journey together’ after this week’s riots and today’s announcement, more on that to follow…

Silent Racism

Jeremiah, based at Riverside Church on the edge of Harlem, is exploring what silent racism means, through the Theatre of the Oppressed program there. Inspired by Barbara Trepagnier’s book and work on ‘Silent Racism’, the group are voicing feelings and reflections on their own experiences and their own prejudices in encounters with those of a different race. Here it is not necessarily about what is said but what isn’t – the honesty of being able to admit the bigotries and biases that are in us, when we are honest enough to confront them – and from here to act in a way that tackles these.

In her book, Trepagnier argues that if we are not proactively finding ways like this to take a stand against racism in our own lives, we are part of the problem. She suggests that the slow and steady trickle of silent racism in our societies is one of the biggest hurdles to overcome racism as a whole.

One obvious example of this in New York are the obvious fewer opportunities that Latino and African Americans tend to have, living in poorer, ghettoized areas of city, often with poorer educational facilities. The odds are stacked against the young people who grow up in these communities – and so Fr. Steve Holton has referred to those who lead a way out of it as ‘warriors of the dream’. 50% of these young people will drop out of high school before they graduate. This is often due to a need for a young person to go out and earn money for the family, but with access to only low paid jobs, drugs seems to be the best way to gain a dependable income, and to have a close circle of support. Manhattan has the highest number of arrests and parolees of any county in America – these are predominately young men of colour. In being re-released these young men enter back into these situations of poverty, unemployment and unstable housing – leading to a much higher probability of re-offending. Today an article on CNN website states  "The fact that there are more black men imprisoned today than were enslaved in 1850 signals that the transformation from chattel to criminal is complete when it comes to the black male body. In this regard, the Prison Industrial Complex serves as the new slavocracy. It maintains the narrative of this country that the black body is not meant to be free. It returns the black body to its "proper" space, and the body perceived as most dangerous, that is the black male body, is now adequately contained and patrolled." This reads as shocking, but it also speaks truth, the article goes on to identify this incarcerated and abused black body with the body of Christ. The truth is that in Harlem a third of the paroles will be re-incarcerated within a year and 42% within 3 years. One seven block stretch in Harlem is known an “re-entry corridor” where one in 20 men has been incarcerated. These issues seem at times too huge to tackle, but Trepagnier’s work encourages us that small actions each day that work to conquer our own prejudices and question the injustice around us make the journey towards change – indeed, this is one of the only ways in which this can happen. We are challenged to act radically to a radical phenomenon that faces us, to be where Christ is. As Kelly Brown Douglas suggests, Jesus would reply: "Running down a Baltimore street, On a Florida sidewalk. As you did it to one of these black male bodies you did it to me."

Check out http://rethinkingreentry.blogspot.com/, a coalition of community organizations working to change the trend of cyclical incarceration in Harlem.

Baltimore Riots

I wanted to just show some of the ways in which the church is responding to the current situation in Baltimore.

The first is a pretty incredible statement here by Bishop Eugene Taylor Sutton which gives some background to the situation in Baltimore, but also the widespread racism towards African Americans and the widespread oppression and anger surrounding this. What strikes me about Bishop Eugene's message is how he reminds us that these issues are not just Baltimore's issues, but the world's issues, and how we can respond.

It is a call for peace, but also a call to action, a call to trust in a God who knows suffering, but also a God who teaches us not to fear evil, but to rise against it in the power of love.

Right, is a clip of the clergy marching through West Baltimore as part of a protest against the widespread racism and poverty across the city.

Theatre of the Oppressed

This week I was able to spend some time with Jeremiah Kyle Drake at Riverside Church, New York. Jeremiah is the Theatre of the Oppressed co-ordinator for the church. Theatre of the Oppressed is a tool and philosophy that I trained in some years ago and is an incredible way to creatively facilitate dialogue between people. The practice was developed by Brazilian theatre practitioner Augusto Boal and influenced by the work of the educator and theorist Paulo Freire. The practice is a means by which men and women are able to become more fully human by dealing critically and reflectively with their reality; acting it out and listening to others do the same. Put simply, it is dialogue. This process invites a deeper awareness of how we all, each day, are part of participating in the transformation of our world, for better or worse.

Theatre of the Oppressed (TO) recognises each human being as theatre – a person sees the situation and sees one’s self in the situation – we are always at once actor and spectator. Once we realise this, we realise the power that our actions have in our world, and so with that our power to help ourselves and others. If we cannot exercise this right to act and to have dialogue – to allow others to understand us or our cause then we are oppressed. If we deny others their chance to speak, or refuse to listen to them, we oppress them.

With this the Theatre of the Oppressed is a space in which we are invited to realise who we are and the roles we play in situations of oppression in our world. It is also a place to think and feel our way into acting in a way that overcomes this. TO is a rehearsal for reality which itself is reality also.

I’m conscious that as I have been reflecting on this, the riots and peaceful protests continue in Baltimore. Martin Luther King once said that riots are the voice of the voiceless. So many of the people, mainly young people involved have felt that their voice has gone completely unheard. One youthworker described going into a school in Baltimore recently and asking in an assembly who in the school had lost someone they knew to violence in the city: everyone put up their hand. The youthworker then asked the young people to put up their hand if they had been on a protest or been represented on a protest against this injustice: no hand went up. Theatre of the Oppressed is just one, very simple way in which those who feel voiceless can discover their voice, and its clear that these methods are needed, not just in Baltimore, but in all of our communities, for the injustices that lie unspoken.

Jeremiah articulated to me the ways in which the Theatre of the Oppressed’s own philosophy and principals are actually those of the Gospel.  There are principals that seek to building a world where all are invited to ‘participate in human society as an equal, to respect differences and be respected’  and to become more fully human. Here dialogue prevails and work is for peace. TO allows people to be acting subjects of their own lives and its intention is always to develop societies that flourish and are just. The more I reflected on this the more I wonder that if these principles do not seem familiar to our church life, we probably need to take more action than we thought.

Warriors of the Dream

Yesterday I went to be part of a project called ‘Warriors of the Dream’ at St Phillips Church East Harlem. The group had been so called after the words of Ozzie Davis, friend of Martin Luther King Jr, to a group that had achieved their goals despite everything the world had thrown in their path, saying: 'You are my warriors of the dream.' The warriors are those people who, in the power of peace and justice, build, create and lead. The group explores their own history: Martin Luther King’s own dream, the dreams of their elders and the dreams of their future. Influenced by movements such as #blacklivesmattter it has been set up in recognition of the difficult challenges that face many of the young people living in Harlem, and in recognition of all the potential that they have to change their futures.

The group gathers like church to share time, food and fellowship. This time has a purpose of hearing God: for the group this is pursuing transformation of themselves and their neighborhood. The worship and liturgy takes place in the form of a drumming circle. The practice of drumming connects the group with their own roots and deep history, but also with a power that goes beyond words. It is a place for contemplation, but also for an acknowledgement of the power that the group has as a force for positive transformation. Scripture and spoken word is also incorporated into this practice, as is reflection, dialogue and listening across the group. 

So often dreams for hope and peace are characterized by passivity and quiet in our churches – the latter is no bad thing in itself. Yet when these young people that same day have woken up to more news that more riots are breaking out in Baltimore after black men have been killed unlawfully by white police, quiet just doesn’t cut it as an response. There is a place and need for anger, for feelings of betrayal, abandonment and grief to be shouted out in a way that is also a call for change, for truth and for transformation.

As I sat in the circle I watched more and more people join us from the local area and pick up a drum. As David the drumming leader said, you don't need to be an expert to play the drum, you just need to touch it to make a noise. For me this is also a metaphor for any way in which we can stand up for truth and justice - we don't need to be an expert on the law, we just need to say the truth our loud, to be counted, we just need to hit the drum. 

Usually traffic horns and sirens dominate the soundscape of Harlem, but this Sunday afternoon djembe drums could be herd several blocks away from where we were, and a few people stopped by to join in and share. One hearer said it was as if his soul was sleeping, he told us 'the drums called it into action'. This was a liturgy that was accessible, but also real, that captured the feeling and emotion of a community, but also proclaimed the presence of God in a place of conflict and destruction; the presence and power of hope in the midst of despair.