Racism is real and pervasive, and I participate in its perpetuation every single day. I am deeply entrenched in structures that prioritize my comfort, as a white person, over everything else. This is problematic for life as a Jesus follower. First off, the Jesus of the Gospels wasn’t especially interested in speaking words of comfort to those who misused power. He was far more inclined to call for the total transformation of oppressive religious and economic systems.
There are three words that white people desiring to becoming anti-racist need to keep in our vocabularies: discomfort, disruption and uncertainty. The massive injustices upon which our society has been built will not be repaired through our small acts of kindness. We have to listen to the voices of people of color with openness and non-defensiveness. We have to get over our white guilt so that we can do the real work of ensuring our households, churches, workplaces and businesses are truly anti-racist.
So far, 2020 has been a year of disruption. It would be good to anticipate continued disruption and uncertainty if we really dream of the construction of a new reality of actual peace that finds its roots not in complacency, but in justice, equity and compassion.
We’re now in the Christian season of Pentecost. In the book of Acts, on the day of Pentecost, something highly disruptive happened. Jesus had just ascended into heaven, and his friends and family were together in a room. A sudden, unexpected wind blew in and filled the whole space. The Greek word used to describe the wind is "biaios." In the whole Bible, this word only shows up on this one particular occasion. It was a unique moment and deserved a unique word. Biaios can be translated to mean forcible, very strong, violent and mighty. It was the sort of wind that couldn’t be ignored. The Holy Spirit started using language in new ways that expanded the way people saw and heard one another.
The folks in the room decided soon after the big wind that they should share everything. The sharing didn’t last long, but Acts 2:44 reminds us that for at least some small amount of time, a new economic model was part of a shared Christian vision. That biaios wind of Pentecost was wildly destabilizing.
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Imagine if those early Jesus followers had ignored the wind and said, “That’s probably just a little draft. Did you check the windows?” Or, “I’m not really interested in my life being disrupted, so I’m heading home.”
I’ve spent most of my life closing windows when I felt a draft. I wanted to make myself and other people feel comfortable. I believed with complete sincerity that it was the loving thing to do. I understood peace was the central goal of a life of faith. Now I’m realizing I don’t understand much at all about the actual work and sacrifice involved in love and peace. I see every facet of this life through a lens of white privilege, and I am a beneficiary of profoundly pervasive systems of oppression — including the church itself. I need to get comfortable being uncomfortable. I have to release my attachment to most of what I think I know to make space for the disruption of a Pentecost wind.
God of Pentecost, Creator of Biaios Winds: Blow our hearts and minds open, and amplify the voices of all those on the margins. Fill us with courage. Transform us toward justice. Redefine our direction. Increase our capacity for discomfort, disruption and uncertainty. Connect us to each other, to you, and to our planet. Amen.
"Holy Everything" is a weekly column by Emily Carson. She is a Lutheran pastor serving at the Southeastern Minnesota Synod Office in Rochester. Visit her blog at emilyannecarson.com .
