Beloved of God,
We had (we thought) no other choice. So when the bell signaling the end of lunch period rang at Brookside Junior High School in Albert Lea, Minnesota, the twenty or so of us who were so compelled did not return to class; we stayed outside. Walking en masse to the corner of the school property we turned and waited for whatever was next.
The whole thing had started that morning during a schoolwide assembly. A fellow student in the bleachers had challenged a teacher’s admonition. The teacher, angered, responded by laying hands on the boy and manhandling him off the bleachers and out of the gym, making enough racket in the process that the whole assembled lot of us became witness. As soon as they exited the gym, however, the assembly went on as planned. Afterward, the treatment our fellow student received was the subject of much conversation. During lunch his friends spoke about the injustice of what had happened. A line had been crossed. I agreed. What could be done about it? A walk-out seemed the best option. So with adrenaline pumping, that’s what we did. Now, as minutes ticked away, we looked at the building for a sign of what would happen next. How would the administration respond? What would our fellow students think of us and what we’d done? Would our parents be called? Would we be expelled?
After what seemed like a supremely long interval, Mr. Xavier, our principal, (who happened to be a member of the congregation my father served at the time) emerged from school and walked over to us. He asked and we told him why we were there. He promised to meet with a delegation of us to talk about the incident if we would return to the building. His offer seemed sincere and we obliged.
Most of the kids who participated in the walk out were friends of the boy who’d been mistreated. They were a tough crew, from the “other side of the tracks.” “Kindem,” they told me, “you’re a goody-goody; you need to be part of the delegation.” I agreed. A half dozen others were chosen, including the fiery, dark haired girl who’d been the instigator of it all. We walked back into school and convened around a large table in a conference room adjacent to Mr. Xavier’s office. Though some of our number had surely visited his office before, none of us had ever sat at this table!
I can’t recall exactly what words were exchanged that afternoon, or even what the ultimate outcome of our protest was, but I know we felt heard. It seemed that our protest had accomplished something. The situation was defused. We all moved on. I will be forever grateful to Mr. Xavier for engaging us the way he did. It was a teachable moment, and he gave us a lesson in civility. He treated us and our concerns with respect. The forbearance he showed us left a deep impression on me, and allowed me to look him in the eye when I saw him later that week in church.
As we move through Advent toward the celebration of the Incarnation, the Scriptures offer up words of comfort, hope, and challenge along the way. One of these words to us comes from Paul’s letter to the congregation in Thessalonica. In the closing sentences he uses short, pithy phrases, to sum up the attitude and faith practices he is commending to them as they await the Lord’s return. (Above) Are his words applicable to our day and time? I hope so.
The use of pepper spray as a tool for crowd control here in Seattle, on the UC Davis campus, and at other places around the country has ignited a lively debate about the civil rights and responsibilities of police officers, citizens, and the elected officials who represent us all. Where is the line between civil and uncivil protest? Between appropriate and inappropriate use of force? When basic constitutional rights are at stake, robust public conversation—including public acts of protest—are essential. So is civility.
When a Black Friday shopper used pepper spray to achieve a competitive edge over other bargain hunters, and when security guards used Tasers to deal with a suspected shoplifter, they became stark reminders of a growing incivility in our culture. Placed alongside the revived unrest in democratically emergent Egypt and the violent storming of the British Embassy in Iran, they illustrate how high the stakes are. We could use Mr. Xavier right now.
Waiting is an essential component of this season. But what should the character of our waiting be? According to St. Paul, it is an active, alert, joyful waiting: “Rejoice…pray…give thanks. Do not quench; do not despise; test everything, holding fast to the good and abstaining from evil.” As those who bear the name of Christ, we are called to practice these virtues not only as individual citizens but as a community of faith. As Henri Nouwen so aptly puts it: “As we await Christ’s coming, we remember him for whom we are waiting, and as we remember him we create a community ready to welcome him when he comes.” Do I hear an Amen?
Joyful waiting!
Pastor Erik
What does this mean?