Anyone who attended the 2016 General Conference in Portland, Ore., last May probably isn't surprised by this week's report of bullying and harassment of Hispanic/Latino youths at a United Methodist youth event in North Carolina. The same "Trump Effect" that has erupted since the Nov. 8 presidential election put Donald Trump in the White House has been rampant among United Methodist politicos since before the church's global legislative assembly.
If anything, this year's General Conference clearly presaged what has happened to America, but most of us who went through the hell of that gathering didn't want to believe it. Whether from our own optimism or our failure to understand our co-religionists' anger and frustration, we were bowled over then and now.
On that score, we have to give major proprs to Bishop Warner Brown, past president of the Council of Bishops, because he recognized the wave of hostility before the rest of us did, and began efforts to reconcile opposing groups some two months before General Conference began. In fact, as horrific as the 2016 General Conference was, it might have been far worse without the efforts of Bishop Brown, Bishop Bruce Ough, and the various leaders they gathered together.
Still gobsmacked by what has happened to America, some may be late to the party, but we're here now. This isn't the time for recriminations about why people didn't do something sooner about the undercurrents of racism, sexism and homophobia that have now broken open in both church and state. That's what businesspeople call a "sunk cost," i.e., it's spent and there's no way to recoup it, so fuggedaboutit.
The question before us is: What do we do now? And the answer is: Plenty, but the way we go about it matters as much as the goal we seek. Don't take our word for it; take that of Jesus.
Chapters 5, 6 and 7 of the Gospel of Matthew lay out a clear method for dealing with hostility from an overpowering group: De-escalate to resist evil, also known as turning the other cheek, or returning good for evil. Too often this approach gets confused with weakness. On the contrary, pursuing this course of action requires courage, strength and self-discipline. Jesus' point, which we so often miss, counsels using ways other than the overt force of one's oppressors to protect the vulnerable.
From here on out, we must ask ourselves a two-fold question: What's the best way to help the individual immediately, and what's needed to change the system that allows abuse in the first place? It has been easy to be a nominal Christian in America since the mid-20th century because it was possible to avoid confrontations, unless one joined the religious right's crusade for secular power. That safety has evaporated. Instead, we've come to one of those winnowing times in human history when the core of the gospel message will run head-on into the greater demons of empire.
So if we feel called to follow Jesus faithfully, we must expect that we are going to find ourselves in more situations that require both courage and self-restraint. For example, what would have happened had some of the youths -- and their adult chaperones -- at that North Carolina event stood up immediately for the Hispanic youths being bullied? They wouldn't have needed to get rowdy with the bullies. Instead, it would have been far more effective if they had turned their backs on the bullies and made friends with the youths being harassed. In fact, it's usually better to make friends with the person in peril, because that's where the healing energy of God's love works more effectively.
This same principle can be put to work in so many situations, as Jesus taught. If a bully knocks a Latina girl's books out of her hands at school, why not stop and help her pick them up? Ask her name, and tell her yours. Walk her to class. Walk her home from school. And yes, tell an adult authority what's going on, so that (we hope) rules against such harassment can be enforced against the tormentors. In other words, instead of picking fights with the bullies ourselves, we can focus on the victims and help them out of danger.
Safety Pins
There's a movement that swept through Great Britain after its referendum to leave the European Union, and the idea has taken root in the United States since the Nov. 8 election. Supporters are wearing safety pins as a signal to people potentially vulnerable because of their race, ethnicity, gender or someone's perception of their religion. A safety pin is a sign that says: "You're safe with me. I'll go with you through danger."
Here's the kicker: Don't put the pin on unless you're really willing to follow it up with concrete action. Be prepared to put yourself on the line for another, or the safety pin is meaningless.
Backed by genuine commitment to act, however, that humble safety pin can become a witness that we're willing to bear another's burden of oppression with them. Something tells us we're all going to need one another even more in the months and years to come.
A journalist for 45 years and a certified spiritual director, Cynthia B. Astle serves as Founder and Editor of United Methodist Insight.