by Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation on January 11, 2015
Attempting to shame someone to get their attention and compel them to action isn’t a technique that I would normally endorse. Shame is one of those emotions I believe can be corrosive to the human spirit. It sharply calls into question someone’s ability and sense of reality. It erodes feelings of self-worth. People who attempt to shame others often want the other person to feel bad about him or herself or something he or she has done or not done.
And, yet, creating a feeling of shame – or at least extreme embarrassment – was exactly what someone asked me years ago to do. I remember the conversation distinctly.
I was with several of my marketing colleagues at the offices of our pro-bono client Prevent Child Abuse Georgia. We were meeting with the Executive Director of the nonprofit agency, along with their communications director and lobbyist. We were all seated around a conference room table discussing ideas and themes for Prevent Child Abuse Georgia’s annual report.
Copies of this annual report, which was a multi-page document containing photos and a written summary of the year’s accomplishments, was mailed each year to every Georgia state representative and senator, as well as other stakeholders.
It was 2002. And, at the time, Georgia was the only state in the country that had yet to pass a child endangerment law. The Executive Director of Prevent Child Abuse Georgia was outraged by this, and was ready to employ some new tactics.
“I want our Georgia legislators to feel utterly embarrassed about their poor priorities,” I recall her saying. “I want you to help me create an annual report that, when they read it, makes them feel ashamed.”
And, so we did our homework. We looked at the bills that had been passed by the Georgia General Assembly during the two years that Prevent Child Abuse Georgia had rigorously attempted to get a child endangerment law passed.
Among a number of respectable laws, we found a few doozies. For example, both the House and Senate passed bills that resulted in a law designating grits as the official prepared food of Georgia. Another law regulated the number of horseshoe crabs that could be taken out of Georgia’s waters and used for bait. Another gave the green light to construct a statue of a farmer and mule at the Georgia Agricultural Exposition Authority at a cost to taxpayers of over $120,000.
Perhaps none of these laws were trivial on their own. But, when contrasted against the fact that 92 children had died in Georgia the previous year of confirmed or suspected abuse or neglect . . . and that no new funds had been designated that year for child abuse prevention . . . the bills that did get our Georgia legislators’ time and attention seemed petty and ridiculous.
Ultimately, we decided to highlight these and a few other lightweight laws in the Prevent Child Abuse Georgia’s annual report. Alongside the facts about each law, we also featured heart-wrenching facts about the persistence of child abuse in our state. The last page of the annual report ended with the message “Shame on Georgia!” in big bold letters – a cringe-worthy statement.
A copy of the annual report was sent to every Georgia legislator with a cover letter from the Executive Director. In some cases, the reports were hand delivered by Prevent Child Abuse Georgia’s lobbyist.
Our efforts, it turned out, had the desired effect. Mismanaged priorities, plainly revealed and sobering facts, bravely spoken, created a buzz. Prevent Child Abuse Georgia’s offices were flooded with calls. The campaign received national attention. And, the following year, Georgia adopted the Child Endangerment Act.
It was the first time I personally experienced how shame and discomfort could be used with positive results. And, it was the first time I saw how my contribution of time, ideas, and voice could make a real difference for a cause I believed in.
I know many of you here this morning are or have been involved in causes you care about. I imagine each of us has, at one time or another, encountered an injustice and discovered that it ignited a burning passion inside to do something about it.
Oppression exists in many forms and we may have found ourselves on the front lines or somewhere in the middle of the pack on issues involving human rights, animal rights, and environmental justice. We know that, as Unitarian Universalists, our faith encourages us not to sit on the sidelines, but to do what we can to make a difference. “We are a religion of deeds, not creeds,” is one catchy line we use to describe ourselves.
And, yet, while some injustices in our world seem blatantly obvious – such as the neglect and abuse of children – others are not as universally understood.
For example, the construction of the Keystone XL pipeline to transport oil from Calgary to Texas was approved by the U.S. House of Representatives this week by a comfortable margin. Those in favor of the pipeline believe that it will create much needed jobs and add to the country’s well-being in other important ways.
They believe its potential damage to the environment is grossly overstated.
Those opposed to the Keystone XL pipeline include President Obama, environmental groups like the Sierra Club, and this congregation – which took a vote last year and agreed to take a stand against it. The opposition believes that the pipeline’s construction would amount to a global warming disaster. They strongly believe that the project would unravel the progress the White House administration has made to combat climate change.
It seems that climate change and other controversial issues such as legal abortion, same-sex marriage, and universal healthcare stir within us strong feelings of right and wrong . . . feelings that are rooted in our fundamental values of security, freedom, and responsibility. At times when we’re seeking justice around such issues, how do we know when our truth is the truth? What inspires us to speak up and take action? And, what do we do when others aren’t convinced?
In my message to you this morning, I’d like to suggest that when we speak bravely and act boldly for justice, I believe we must do so knowing that there are times when we’re the teacher and times when we’re the student. The trick is in knowing when I am which. When do I need to speak with bravest fire, knowing that my position is controversial but should not be compromised?
And, how can I recognize when I’m holding only a piece of the truth? When does my position, like a piece of iron, need to be plunged into the flames of discussion and negotiation, so that it is tempered into a sharper and finer instrument for change?
In our Story Wisdom today, the oppression is clear to us and the brave voices and action that were needed are obvious to us. And, yet, from history we know that the Jewish Holocaust and other incidences of genocide, were fueled by campaigns of hate that were portrayed as messages of truth by those in positions of power.
Elihu Richter, a professor at Hebrew University in Israel, argues that genocide in fact has its genesis in hate language that is used on a mass scale. He notes that the Nazis, for example, used the techniques of mass media perfected for marketing tobacco to spread hate throughout Europe and the Middle East. Richter also says that hate language and incitements broadcast throughout Rwanda by a private radio corporation were at the center of that country’s genocide, which during a 100-day period left an estimated one million people dead. It’s considered to be the fastest and most efficient genocide of the 20th century.
“State sponsored hate language and incitement are among the most toxic exposure of our times,” Richter writes. “Such hate language and incitement is the software that leads to the use of the hardware – machetes, guns, rockets, missiles, and weapons of mass destruction that kill, maim, and destroy.”
Richter argues that hate language is especially effective with children. “As with other toxic exposures, it is the children who are the most vulnerable and in whom the effects are most long lasting,” he writes. “Children exposed to hate language and incitement become programmed to act on its messages as they grow up, ensuring intergenerational perpetuation of violence.”
Ultimately, Richter believes that we must apply public health models of surveillance to identify and ban the use of hate language and incitement.
In thinking about how we might speak with bravest fire to combat injustice in our world, it seems that one opportunity we may have right in front of us is to reject the way politicians, the media and possibly members of our own circle exacerbate the divide between liberals and conservatives.
It seems that liberals and conservatives think of each other the same way – as people who are hard-headed, unrealistic or worse, and whose ideas will bring about our nation’s ruin. Is it possible that this ongoing hate language isn’t reflecting but, rather, contributing to the polarization of politics in our country? What would it be like if we stopped calling each other liberal or conservative?
What if, instead, we thought of each other simply as concerned human beings with different opinions on matters that affect the well-being of our nation? How might this work towards diffusing tensions and helping us find common ground? Ultimately, I believe to bravely speak and act against injustice begins with not accepting language or systems that characterize groups of people in extreme ways – either positively or negatively.
People who vote Republican also care about helping the poor. People who vote Democrat also care about wealth. Not all Unitarian Universalists are open-minded. Not all evangelical Christians are closed-minded. I imagine many of us know these things to be true. And, yet, I wonder what might happen if we were even more intentional about rejecting generalizations and categorizations. What conversations might open up? What common ground might we discover? Where might our differences be our strength?
This leads me to consider Glenn’s reflection. In it, he noted that while his voice and unique perspectives are important, there’s also something wonderful that unfolds when there’s a willingness among all to embrace a diversity of views.
“Infinite diversity in infinite combinations [are the] elements that create truth and beauty,” said the Vulcan and Starfleet leader Commander Spock. I understand his wise words to mean that the more I’m willing to add my brave voice to the mix – and the more I encourage the diverse voices of others – the more likely it is that I will discover the amazing truth.
I will have an opportunity tomorrow to speak with bravest fire. As some of you know, I’m participating again this year in the Moral Monday Georgia coalition for change. Moral Monday Georgia is holding its first gathering of the new legislative year. There will be a teach-in at Central Presbyterian Church followed by a demonstration at the state capitol.
Supporting Moral Monday represents another step outside of my comfort zone for me. This is an organization that speaks loudly and doesn’t mince words when it comes to standing up for disenfranchised persons. Like that Executive Director at Prevent Child Abuse Georgia I worked with years ago, Moral Monday Georgia is willing to speak with bravest fire. They’re not satisfied with the status quo. They’re willing to present their case in a way that’s intended to make state legislators uncomfortable.
Moral Monday Georgia is still a new movement and is still working out their kinks. Yet, their platform for change strikes me as common sense and one that I can get behind. They are championing affordable healthcare for all. Adequate funding to ensure high-quality public schools . . . wages that promote stable homes and lives . . . housing for the homeless . . . common sense gun laws . . . protection of voting rights.
Who wouldn’t these things – liberals, conservatives, Democrats, Republicans, all of us?
Of course, figuring out how we get there is where things get complicated and can fall apart. And yet, Moral Monday’s role is to ensure that these issues remain on the table. I can be a brave voice for that, can’t I?
So, off I go on Monday, holding my piece of the truth, and likely joining others who are holding theirs. I imagine as speak with bravest fire, there will be issues where the steps needed to restore justice will seem blatantly obvious. And, there will likely be other issues where the answers appear less clear-cut – where a blend of diverse opinions is needed to arrive at a sharper, finer truth.
My opportunities to be the teacher or be the student will likely shift and change. Yet, I do believe that, unless I engage in the process with compassion and good intentions, I won’t have the opportunity to be either. And that, it seems, would be a missed opportunity for my own growth and the possibility of helping change things for the better.
As we go from here, may keep our eyes open to where justice is needed in our communities and in our wider world. May we find within us the courage to speak with bravest fire.
And, if we encounter our own reluctance or fear, may we become curious instead of withdrawn or defensive. May we find inspiration in the voices of others. While they may not always sound like our voice, they nevertheless present us with an opportunity to refine our position, and to create a new harmony that, together, will help us heal our hurting world.
Let’s come together with hope and courage and see what kind of new music we might make.
May it be so. Amen.