“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Eccl 3:1). So begins the best-known passage in the Book of Ecclesiastes. Among the litany of appointed times is “a time to keep silence, and a time to speak” (3:7). For many today, especially people of color, the addition of George Floyd’s name to the lengthy roll of black victims of police brutality means the time for silence has passed. Now is a time to speak.
But for some to speak others must be silent. If everyone speaks at once, no one’s voice is heard. We just end up in a shouting match, which is an accurate description of most discourse in our country today. The events of the past few months have only amplified the divisiveness that has long infected our society. Whether we are discussing something as simple as wearing face masks or as serious as ending institutional racism, our instinct has become to “pick a side.” Name any issue: by the end of a news cycle it will have been divided into a “conservative” and “liberal” stance. These have become the modern tribes of our society. We learn the talking points of our tribe so we can shout them at the other – to what end no one knows or cares.
The devil rejoices.
Our adversary is a master divider. That’s been his trick from the beginning. When he divided our first parents from God, he also divided them from one another. He divides us from our neighbors and causes division even within ourselves by disordering our intellect and our passions.
Christ, by contrast, is a healer. He mends what was broken and brings together those who were apart. His high priestly prayer is “that they may be one” (Jn 17:12). By restoring our union with our Heavenly Father, He restores union with our brothers and sisters on earth, as well. This is why St. Paul remarks that in Christ there is no Gentile or Jew, slave or free, male or female (Gal 3:28). Rather, “in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have become near by the blood of Christ. For He is our peace, He who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through His flesh” (Eph 2:13-14).
When St. Justin Martyr was defending Christianity to the pagan emperor Antoninus in the second century, he pointed to this very unity, saying, “We who hated and destroyed one another, and would not share the same hearth with people of a different tribe on account of their different customs, now since the coming of Christ, live familiarly with them, and pray for our enemies” (“First Apology,” 14). Could the same be said of most Christians today? How ready are we to share our hearth with those of a different tribe? Perhaps it’s time for a long overdue examination of conscience.
Only 3 percent of U.S. Catholics are African American, according to the latest Pew Research data. I’m not one of them. As a white male, I have the privilege of not thinking about race. Not once in my life have I worried about police violence. To me, uniformed officers are signs of security. There are things that people of color -- many of whom are my brothers and sisters in Christ -- have to worry about every single day that are not even on my radar.
So now is not a time for me to speak. It’s a time to be silent – not the passive silence of neglect, but the active silence of listening.
Listening means treating one another as people to be loved, not problems to be solved or positions to be debated. When a black woman says, “black lives matter,” instead of retorting, “Actually, all lives matter,” we need to listen to what she’s saying. Of course all lives matter. That is the clear teaching of our faith. She’s telling us that her life matters. Her children’s lives matter. They matter to her and they matter to God, but they don’t seem to matter to society. The pain she feels is real and not a matter for debate.
If you go to the hospital with a bleeding wound, the doctor does not test your hearing or check your cholesterol, even though all parts of the body are important. He gives his attention to the part that’s wounded. Those who are hurting deserve to be heard, regardless of their political stance or the color of their skin. Politics are necessary to help us govern a just society, but our personal interactions should always be governed by charity.
This includes our response to the police officer who expresses frustration at being spat upon by the people he risks his life daily to protect. Beneath that uniform is a person who is hurting because of the evil done by a few bad actors in his profession. He also deserves to be listened to with charity and not dismissed as an instrument of oppression.
It sounds so simple, but the Golden Rule still applies: Treat others as you would be treated. The Second Vatican Council calls for every one of us to look upon our neighbor as “another self” (“Gaudium et Spes,” 27) – not as an other, but as another me. God doesn’t expect us to save the world. That’s His job. He expects us to love our neighbors, especially those who are hurting.
That’s why it saddens me to see the reactions to George Floyd’s death and the protests and subsequent riots fall predictably along party lines. This suggests people are listening to their political tribe instead of to one another. We need to stop listening to pundits who seek to divide us to win elections, and instead listen to Christ who seeks to unite us to win souls. He tells us blessed are the persecuted (Mt 5:10, 11) and whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me (Mt 25:40).
There is a time for everything, and for some this is a time to speak. Pain and persecution have won them that privilege. But for those who have the privilege of not suffering the pain of racism, now is a time to listen. Racism is a wound in the Body of Christ. Part of the Body is bleeding; it deserves our attention.
Deacon Matthew Newsome is the Catholic campus minister at Western Carolina University and the regional faith formation coordinator for the Smoky Mountain Vicariate.