My column was due, and I sat staring at a blank screen. I had no idea what I was going to write about because there is so much that I could write about when it comes to organizing, especially these days.
I thought I would write a, “how my kiddo cut her bangs after I warned her against it and it turned into a great lesson for her” piece.
Then I thought I would write about the lesson I’ve learned about what it feels like to truly love someone, the “bangs” child, more than you do yourself, and that went nowhere. I took it all to be a sign that I was supposed to write about a piece of my organizing work. I mean, I’m organizing the faith community right now to show support for the For The People’s Act, which expands voting rights in a way that would be the biggest set of reforms in our nation’s history.
I could have written about how Manchin is set to repeat what Senator Byrd referred to as his “biggest regret” by not fighting against the filibuster. I even had a witty hashtag to go with that idea: #ManchinDontGiveUsTheByrd.
But my mind went straight to the fact that this, organizing West Virginia’s faith community, is the hardest job I’ve ever had. I mean that. I knew going in this was going to be a different type of organizing. I broke up with church 5ish … maybe 7ish … years ago and, though I still wholly believe in a higher universal power, I have a taste in my mouth about organized religion. I am still a person of faith, probably more so than most people would believe, but I left the church because what I was experiencing was the same ugly elitist stuff that I dealt with every day outside of church.
Now don’t get me wrong, I know I grew in a lot of ways in my last church, and today, so much can be traced back to what I learned there about leadership, service, and testifying, to name a few, but I couldn’t deal with the lack of attention to social justice. I mean, Jesus is a lot of things, but I think he was an organizer and activist, to be honest. I needed to make change outside of the church rather than feeling as if my greatest spiritual calling was simply sitting my butt in a chair inside.
It was my faith that has seen me through the hardest days of my life so far. If I hadn’t believed that all things are working for the good, I would’ve had a completely different life because the world would have beaten me beyond recognition. I did, and do, take some killer sucker punches still but I know that I need to keep moving forward and it will eventually be alright.
Hmm … my willingness to take risks and speak my truth probably was what separated me from my church. Well, at least from what I’m experiencing from this new organizing gig.
What kind of state have we allowed ourselves to become when we cannot rely on our faith community to stand up and point fingers at social injustice? When did we become a place that will acknowledge hunger exists by opening a food pantry yet won’t return emails or join in the movement to fix the bad policies and circumstances that create the need for food pantries in the first place? We’ve turned our religion into a partisan battleground; so much so that I have only been able to get a handful of believers to speak out in support of legislation that is intended to protect and uplift the most vulnerable.
We decide our vote based on issues like abortion and declare it’s because God is against it, but yet we don’t want Medicare for all or government assistance programs to be available for those struggling with many of the issues that bring one to choose abortion. We want fair elections but won’t allow our pastors to openly support voter reform.
I have encountered several faith leaders across our state who cannot speak what they believe to be the truth because of the repercussions from either their leadership or their congregations. Our religious community has become a mirror of every other oppressive system in society, and all of us need to think about who is really changing the world in the name of their faith calling.
We need to search our souls and explore our faith values, decide at what point are we willing to step away from politics and step closer to loving our neighbors enough to stand by and for them. Love, after all, is the greatest commandment.
Looks like my column just wrote itself, didn’t it?
Onward prayerfully,
Amy Jo
