Say Their Names

Matthew 26:13 – “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed throughout the world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

In remembrance of her. Except her name.

The power over naming is largely overlooked in our society. Bush II used to give journalists nicknames. They would joke about them, not realizing perhaps that giving someone an unasked-for nickname is a power move. It was subtle, but it was there. It worked, too. Coverage of Bush II should have been much more critical of many of his policies, in particular, the war in Iraq.

The current president is not so subtle. His nicknames are more insulting. They wield power differently. Rather than getting people on his side, they provoke defensiveness and divisiveness. He loves those things.

The ability to name something grants power. Giving someone a name requires power over them, as does not giving their name. People who “owned” slaves took away their original names along with their identities as free people. They often gave them mocking names, such as “Octavio,” the name of a Roman emperor. The irony amused them and made them feel more powerful than they were.

There’s a certain kind of white person who never got over losing that kind of power. They passed their grievances on to their kids and into other white people. These are the people who don’t care about police killings of Black people. These are the people who support the current president. These are the people who are jonesing to use the ‘N’ word. Sometimes they do.

But names themselves also have power. The slogans ‘say his name,’ ‘say her name,’ and ‘say their names” push back against this dehumanization of people of color. These slogans are used to individualize and remember those who have been lost to racist violence. They are used in remembrance of lynchings past and present. Those lost to such violence had names, they had gifts and talents, they had loved ones. They were people. Their lives mattered. Their actions mattered, just as this unnamed woman’s actions mattered.

Their deaths matter.

According to Buzzfeed, On The Day George Floyd Died, Police Across The US Shot And Killed At Least Five Other Men.

Say their names.

Janelle Monae - Hell You Talmbout

#BLACKLIVESMATTER

B

Shine, Baby!

Matthew 26:12 – “By pouring this ointment on my body, she has prepared me for burial.”

We talked about the ointment being significant in several ways: burial, kingship, loving care. This morning, though, this passage has me thinking about funerals. Every funeral I have ever been to has had me thinking, “I wish I had known them better.” Even my father’s funeral. There’s an honesty and grace about funerals that isn’t always part of our every day lives. I think it’s because there’s a vulnerability about revealing ourselves to others and receiving the revelations others share. At least, for me. I’m surprised by funereal revelations, because I have a tendency, and I’m certain I’m not alone, to put people in boxes. But, like Jesus being prepared for a kingly burial, people can’t be put into boxes.

We do this with God, too. J.B. Phillips wrote a book in 1952 entitled, Your God is too Small. He offers 13 ways we human beings limit God. Among them is God in a Box. We like to think we have God figured out. That we have the inside scoop on what God wants, but God is not limited by our ideas nor the words in the Bible. Just as the woman recognizes there is more to Jesus than just a powerful and spiritual man, so we must recognize that there is more to God than being a law-giver, a managing director, a meek and mild comforter, or an absolutely perfect being. God and the people in our lives are so much more than what we can see or hear. As Augustine famously wrote, “If you understand, what you have understood is not God.”

The Roman Catholics get around this dilemma by apophatic description. Saying god is ‘a,’ but also ‘ not a,’ and also ‘not not-a.’ So, God is Love, but also ‘not-love,’ but also ‘not not-love.’ God’s love goes beyond our word for love. We really have no language to describe God perfectly. And we really have no language to describe others perfectly.

If we could really see others, we would see them shining – like the halos in Renaissance paintings, except from our whole bodies. You, and me, and the trees, the birds, your neighbor, your children, that person who you can’t stand, that person you’re afraid of, all of us are shining like the ointment running over Jesus’s body. Like diamonds sparkling in the sunlight. Like new pennies. Always.

But we are too conscious of our faults and failures to really embrace our light. Again, speaking for me, but maybe you too. Giving ourselves permission to shine is tough for some of us. It’s dangerous. It opens us up to criticism and ridicule. Maybe even accusations of “virtue signaling.” In some places, it opens us up to violence. But when we are being our true selves, we are shining. When you shine, you give me permission to shine. When I shine, I give you permission to shine too. That’s what the world needs right now. It needs all of us to shine.

Let’s not hide our light under a bushel today. Let’s add to the love in the world by remembering today that you, me, and everyone (yes, even that person!) are shining like diamonds.

May you have eyes to see your beautiful light and the beautiful light of your fellow humans, today and every day.

B

75 Things White People Can Do

As a white woman, I would like to clarify that whenever I speak about Black people, it is from what they themselves have told me or what I’ve read. However, I can get things wrong. Please understand, too, that Black people are not a monolith (Spike Lee) just as white people are not a monolith. Everyone has different experiences. So, if I have phrased something badly or need correction, I’m open to it.

Having said that, my fellow white people here is a list of 75 things we can do for racial justice.

Protesting is great; the numbers are important, but there’s more work to be done. Let’s do it.

B