The Fragility of Fingers (Mark 4: Racial Divisions)

If y'all hadn't figured it out yet, our neighborhood is almost entirely African-American. I was kind of surprised about this when I first got there, as I had thought that our neighbors would be more racially diverse. But no, the hood is vastly black, and would probably be quite different if it were not so. You see, black folks (and this could be said for other races I'm sure) are a lot different from us white folk (and probably from other non-white folk). Yep, that's right. A LOT DIFFERENT. Different cultures, not completely different or separate, but significantly different. We, as homo sapiens sapiens, are not all one happy human family of unity. We are differentiated by the cultures we come from. At Hyaets, it is usually difficult to carry on a conversation with a neighbor because these differences run so deep. I'm not going to focus on the differences, but I would like you to remember that those differences exist.

Mark 4 of the new monasticism is lament for racial divisions within the church and our communities and the active pursuit of a just reconciliation. Yeah. Say that three times fast. Now I'm not the sort to go on ad infinitum about white privilege, racism, oppression, etc. To me all that critical race stuff just sounds like BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. However, I do think that the author of the essay on Mark 4 raises an important concern in that as Christians, we cannot conceive of the Church as one Body of Christ when our racial differences divide us more than our faith unites us. We cannot be more connected to our fellow whites and blacks than we are to fellow followers of Christ. I also think it is important to understand that these divisions arise out of problems in knowing what to think of and how to interact with those who are different from us.

Assuming that there are racial divisions in our churches and our communites worthy of lament, how do we go about pursuing a just reconciliation? The Apostle enjoins us to "keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace" (Eph 4:3) And as a bond of unity, it is charity that "binds everything together in perfect unity" (Col 3:14). Now charity, or agape, or love in modern parlance, is considered the highest of the theological virtues, infused in the soul by the Holy Spirit. Lets not get into all that mess. I want to focus more on the object rather than the subject of charity. That is, without me going all Holy Spirit on your ass, we need to ask how we can begin to imagine those who are different from us as proper objects of charity. St. Thomas argues that charity is a kind of friendship, and since friendship is rooted in fellowship in human life, or an Aristotelian notion of "living together," God and our neighbor are proper objects of charity while "irrational creatures" are not. I think that this argument delineating the proper objects of charity offers an answer to our question. We have to imagine people who are different from us as capable of sharing life with us in order to act with charity towards them. Practically speaking that means we have to look past the things that really separate or disgust us to commonalities. (And there are things that really distance me from my neighbors on Tuckaseegee. And I'm not just being a "racist.")

How can we realize these commonalities? One way is through pity and fear. Aristotle had some thoughts on these two emotions as they relate to tragedy. Martha Nussbaum writes that under an Aristotelian view, "pity and fear will be sources of illumination as the agent, responding and attending to his or her responses, develops a richer self-understanding concerning the attachments and values that support the responses." Our responses to potentially tragic events can result in realizations of what we, as humans, care for, and as Susan Feagin puts it "remind us of our common humanity." Another way is through humor. By laughing with each other, even at the most base joke, we remind ourselves that we all share something, even if it is just a common sense of humor.

This summer, I have shared both reactions of pity and fear and reactions of humor with my neighbors. Thankfully, I've shared in many more funny moments than in moments of tragedy. In fact, I can only think of one sort-of-tragic moment this summer. And that incident happened today, so I will share it with you. And to spoil the ending a little bit, I am OK.

Once upon a time, Matt got back from the basketball gym with a car filled with kids. He parked the circa 1990 diesel Suburban/hood-mobile that he had used to get there in the driveway. He is retrieving something out of the front seat when all of the sudden Kahlua (our young/clueless neighbor) closes (read slams) the back door on Matt's pinky finger. The following chaos ensues, more or less in this order:

1) Matt uses colorful language in a belligerent tone of voice.

2) Kahlua tries to open the door which crushes Matt's finger even more. This happens multiple times.

3) Holly (lovely fellow intern/housemate) says "I don't know what to do!"

4) Matt makes even more of a scene.

5) Matt, thinking the door to be locked, uses his free hand to unlock the door vis-a-vis power lock. When that doesn't work, Matt reaches around to manually pull up on the lock, only to find that this hood-mobile only has a screw sticking out where the lock thing should be and is of no use. Matt screams.

6) Some neighbor with dreads who was posting up on Tuck walks right up to Matt and says the following: "Damn, this nigga's finga be stuck in the door."

7) Someone opens the door. Matt pulls out his finger.

Then neighbor Reynard, who had rushed out of the Tuck house looks at Matt's "wound" and and says: "put some ice on it, it'll be aight." And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.

Though this incident isn't tragic, it reminds me that people like myself and people like my neighbors are made humanly common by our fear of and pity for the victim of getting a finger crushed in a door. I recognize in myself and in my neighbors the same attachment to bodily well-being that motivates us to be concerned for the person in my situation. These are moments in which I imagine sharing life with my neighbor, thus opening the door to acts of charity toward them and, hence, Christian unity,

That's all for today. I know I'm a day behind on my posts, but fear not! I will get caught up, even if it means posting on the Sabbath.

Pax et bonum (peace and all good things to you good people)