The following meditation was written by Doug Hood's son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University
“At that moment the
curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.
The earth shook, the
rocks split…” (Matthew 27:51)
Once again, within our
lifetimes, our country is torn by civil unrest. Enflamed by widely disseminated
smartphone footage of a Minneapolis police officer kneeling on the neck of
George Floyd, an unarmed black man, until he suffocated to death, organized
protests have popped up in more than 200 cities demonstrating against police
brutality. For many, particularly those in minority communities, the George
Floyd killing was the final straw: memories of Rodney King in Los Angeles,
Michael Brown in Ferguson, Eric Garner in New York City, Breonna Taylor in
Louisville, and untold more have boiled over into an angry wave of civil
disobedience. While the vast majority of the protestors have been
nonviolent—living less than a mile from Barclays in Brooklyn, one of the
national hotspots for the demonstrations, I can personally attest to this—there
has still been looting, vandalism, and the wholesale destruction of property on
the part of many so-called “activists.” And while many police have acted
responsibly and even admirably—in several cities officers have actually marched
with and demonstrated alongside the protestors—there are still widespread
reports of unprovoked police violence such as the use of rubber bullets against
non-protesting bystanders and tear gas towards accredited members of the press.
Social media has been
awash with images of the unrest, and several are undoubtedly bound for the
history books. But one of the most powerful, in my opinion, show the walls of
St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City the morning of May 30 after demonstrators
desecrated them with antipolice slogans the night before. It’s an image to make
one pause: here’s one of the oldest, grandest, and most sacred cathedrals in
America, one which since its initial dedication has seen two World Wars,
twenty-seven presidents, and countless worshippers baptized, married, and
eulogized. Images like these shatter the aura of timelessness surrounding our
holy spaces, reminding us of their presence in the eternal now. The church’s
eyes might be lifted towards the eternal, but these pictures force us to
remember and reexamine God’s mission in our everyday lives. So yes, the
graffiti is a tragedy. One day the spray-paint will be washed away and St.
Patrick’s Cathedral will seem as timeless as ever. But right now it—and the rest
of the Christian community—is on the frontline of these riots.
How then should we react
to these demonstrations? First, we must remember that civil disobedience and
nonviolent protest are baked into the very DNA of Christianity. Jesus himself
preached in the shadow of a violent colonizing force. His teachings flipped the
societal status quo on its head, forcing the authorities to acknowledge the
humanity of their subjects even as they repressed them. Consider Jesus’ command
to turn the other cheek: by doing so, victims would force assailants to strike
them a second time with the palm of their right hand (the left hand being
unclean and unsuitable for striking), which in the customs of ancient Rome
signified them as socioeconomic equals. We must also remember that destruction
need not be a profane act. In fact, destruction is frequently a prelude to
renewal. Remember that upon Jesus’ death, the Temple in Jerusalem was struck by
an earthquake, the Temple curtain being torn asunder and the very stones smashed
apart. The old ways needed to be destroyed before they could be restored with
God’s new covenant. But—and this is important—nowhere do the Gospels say that
anyone in the Temple was harmed or killed. In stark contradiction, the violent
upheaval of the Temple led to the breaking of tombs and the resurrection of
many “holy people” who returned to Jerusalem and “appeared to many people.”
(Matthew 27:52-53) The destruction sanctified and gave life, it did not take
it.
Perhaps we would do well
to remember the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr., one of the architects of
the American Civil Rights Movement. At a speech given at Stanford University in
1967, King famously reflected on the widespread rioting that ravaged the
country. “I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air.
Certain conditions continue to exist in our society which must be condemned as
vigorously as we condemn riots,” he declared. He then delivered one of his most
shocking (and frequently decontextualized) statements: “But in the final
analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it that America
has failed to hear?” When we see the riots in our streets, the protests, the
demonstrations—and yes, even the vandalism and destruction—we Christians must
ask ourselves what we have failed to hear. What must we do to restore the
Temple now that it’s being smashed again? How do we preserve and protect life
without denying it?
Joy,
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