White folks – we need to get past the idea that we need to fix white supremacy for other people – that we can be white saviors coming in to save the brown and black folks in our church.  The truth is that we are the ones that are broken.  Now don’t get me wrong – White supremacy DEFINITELY needs to be dismantled in order to improve the lives of our brown and black siblings.  I just don’t want you to get it twisted.  I want you to realize that we too are harmed by white supremacy.  That what we need is collective liberation.  That we are not the savior.  A brown skinned Palestinian Jewish man named Jesus is.

About our brokenness.  We are seriously lacking in empathy.  When we hear about another black body being shot on the news, we wait “to hear the whole story” before we can lament about the situation.  We find some way to justify what was done.  We find some way to assign blame to the victim.  “Well if he wasn’t walking in the street.”  “If he didn’t speak that way to the police.” “Well he shouldn’t have been selling loose cigarettes.” “Well he did have a realistic toy gun in his hand.”  Somehow we have become okay with state sanctioned executions in the street.  Where oh where is our empathy?  White supremacy tells us that objectivity is possible – that emotions shouldn’t play a role in decision making.  All too often we get stuck in our heads and we forget about our hearts.  We rationalize away some pretty awful things.  White supremacy has us do these things.

White supremacy also tells us that we have a right to comfort.  In church.  White supremacy tells us that we have a right to comfort in church. What?!  Jesus was about flipping power structures, lifting up the lowly  – he was executed by the state for standing up for his friends.  Jesus was intensely political.  But we want the church to “not be political”.  We want the church to be comfortable.  We think talking about race is racist.  We wonder if we could just use some words other than “white supremacy”, which after all isn’t really that big of a problem.  So without thinking about it, we have created the equation that white comfort is more important than black lives.  OUCH.  I know  – its a shocking realization.

I know – some of you are probably super mad right now.  You’re mad because you think I am accusing you of being a white supremacist.  You’re mad because you can’t possibly be a white supremacist – you’re a good person – white supremacy tells you that you have to be perfect.  You can’t have some flaw like white supremacy or racism.  The thing is, white supremacy is not so much about you as an individual as it is about this insidious evil system that we are ALL caught up in and that we ALL suffer from – though in different and unequal ways.  The evil genius of white supremacy is that it operates without you noticing or doing anything to keep it in place.  It is so deep and entrenched that we don’t even notice it or realize that we have anything to do with it.

It’s going to take a lot to root white supremacy out of church folks and its going to be hard, but we HAVE to do the work.  Much harm has been done because we have failed to do the work.   (I often wonder what Dylann Roof learned in his church about racism.  I wonder if he had pictures of white Jesus hanging  in his ELCA congregation.  I wonder what role did our denomination play or not play in his formation.) We are going to have to offer each other an ABUNDANCE of grace.  We are going to have to be okay with not knowing what we are doing and forging ahead on faith.  We are going to have to ask other white folks to give up their comfortable positions because the truth is that white comfort is NOT more important that black lives.

Shari Seifert with her friend David Starks together at Calvary Lutheran Church – Minneapolis following the murder of Philando Castile.

The truth is that we are all the body of Christ together and when part of the body hurts, the whole body should feel it.  We shouldn’t wait “to hear the whole story”.  We should feel it with our whole heart.  As Bishop Eaton said tonight – until white folks care about the death of black lives as if they were their own, nothing is going to change.  Can you join me in hoping and praying for the holy spirt to enter our hearts and move us to compassion and to action?  Can you join me in calling for the dismantling of white supremacy?

Bio: Shari Seifert  lives in Minneapolis with her wife, two sons and the cutest Golden Doodle you have ever seen.  She works as a Realtor and  is committed to working towards dismantling white supremacy in the ELCA.  Shari is currently vice-president of the European Descent Lutheran Association for Racial Justice (EDLARJ),  a member of the Minneapolis Synod racial justice table, her congregation’s Race Equity Committee and Multi-faith Anti-Racism and Healing (MARCH)     She is also on the core planning  team the Multicultural Youth Leadership Experience (MYLE).

The ELCA recognizes June, 17 as day of Commemoration of the Emanuel 9 and a Day of Repentance of Racism.  This blog is featured as part of a series to call the ELCA to address white supremacy and racism. To find additional worship materials for June 17, please visit https://www.elca.org/EmanuelNine

3 Then I turned to the Lord God, to seek an answer by prayer and supplication with fasting and sackcloth and ashes. 4 I prayed to the Lord my God and made confession, saying,

“Ah, Lord, great and awesome God, keeping covenant and steadfast love with those who love you and keep your commandments, 5 we have sinned and done wrong, acted wickedly and rebelled, turning aside from your commandments and ordinances. 6 We have not listened to your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes, and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land.  (Daniel 9:3-6)

I love living and serving as a pastor in rural communities on the Great Plains. I have spent most of my life in this environment, and my family has been part of this landscape for generations. My identity is tied to this place, and that comes with complex realities and shameful truths. Like anywhere in the United States, has been present in this space since the arrival of white people. It takes different forms in different settings, I cannot speak to how it manifests in other rural environments. Rural spaces are not monolithic.

There are, of course, overt displays of white supremacy. People fly confederate battle flags, hang racist symbols in bars while claiming they are, “just being country,” whatever that means. Hate groups hold rallies to intimidate immigrant communities. We have an abundance of statues and landmarks named after men who committed genocide against our indigenous neighbors. Those obvious examples give cover for the quieter, more prevalent, and just as pernicious ways that white supremacy manifests itself into the daily rhythm of our lives.

This landscape is defined by openness. That this openness has tragically created space for my people to hide how white supremacy is alive and well. It is easy not to see migrant workers when they are the only people standing in a field miles from the nearest town or behind the walls of factories processing our food. It is easy to not see the indigenous communities that our presence has forced onto reservations or to ignore the people of color who live in our communities as our neighbors. It is easy to claim that issues facing communities of color don’t affect us because there is just so much space.

The reality is, regardless of how easy it is to look another way white supremacy damages us all. The stories we pass down from generation to generation about how our rugged ancestors came from Europe with nothing.  How they were tough and brave enough to “tame the land.”  Those stories live on in us, a constant nagging sense of inadequacy. These prideful narratives center on white exceptionalism and yields shame that creates a hardness within us and our communities.

As a result we gloss over the honest parts of these stories, where people were faced with a choice of starvation, conscription, or a boat to a place they had never been. We don’t tell how whole communities shared one window so that everyone’s sod home was up to code when it was to be inspected. We exempt the reality that people of color have been present in every wave of immigration to this area. We certainly don’t spend enough time sitting in the discomfortable truth that we live in this vast and beautiful space only because of the systematic extermination and removal of indigenous people.

I love living and serving here. I delight in meeting our new neighbors who much like large parts of my family, have come fleeing dire situations to find some measure of peace. I am honored when I am invited into holy moments where those whose families have been in this space for thousands of years share their experience with me. I have hope that we can stand against this damaging and pervasive narrative. We value humility, let’s commit to taking an honest look at the ways in which we have participated in the oppression of our neighbors. We value steadfastness, let’s commit to the long process of dismantling white supremacy.  We value community, let’s commit to creating a world where those who have been excluded for so long are shown the dignity, justice, and love.

Kelly France is  the interim pastor at Swedlanda Lutheran Church in rural Hector Minnesota. In his ministry he seeks to build communities that address the injustices of white supremacy and religious intolerance in the rural Midwest.  He serves on the board of the European Descent Lutheran Association for Racial Justice (EDLARJ).

“And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you? And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did I it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’  Matthew 25:39-40 NRSV

I am a pastor serving St. Dysmas Of South Dakota, an ELCA congregation inside the walls of the South Dakota State Penitentiary in Sioux Falls, SD. The men in my congregation come from a wide variety of racial, social and economic backgrounds and are in prison for a wide range of reasons.  South Dakota is approximately 87% white and 9% native but the statistics in prison do not even come close to reflecting that ratio.  As of March 31, 2020, there were 1,732 white males in the South Dakota prison system and 1,032 Native Americans. The prison system population is disproportionately represented by Native American!  I will not go into reasons for this disparity in depth, but it certainly reflects a severe problem in our society and justice system.

One interesting thing about serving a congregation inside the walls of prison–is that the men that worship at St Dysmas come from many different religious backgrounds. I am committed to serve all men regardless of their background. In a typical worship service there will be men who were raised Lutheran of all kinds, Baptist, Reformed, Catholic, Presbyterian, Methodist, Messianic Jews, and Orthodox Jews. There are those with no prior religious affiliation, and Native Americans who participate in traditional sweat lodges.  I find a beauty in this diversity as we acknowledge one God expressed and heard in many traditions.

As I listen to the men who come to visit with me, I hear common themes that contributed to their imprisonment.  Many of them were raised in homes that were abusive, had addicted parents, absent parents, and many were raised in low income homes. This is especially true for the Native American men who grew up in extreme poverty on the reservations.  The other thing I hear often is the fact that they feel they had inadequate legal representation at trial.  In the current justice system if you have enough money to hire an attorney who will focus their attention on your case, you have a much better chance of either being acquitted or receiving lighter sentences.  If you must rely on a public defender who is overwhelmed with heavy caseloads you are likely to receive a harsher sentence for the same offense others have committed but had better representation.  It is hard to hear these stories but as a pastor, my place is to make sure they know, in the midst of this injustice, that they are loved by God no matter what.

I love serving the men in prison.  The men know who they are. There are no pretenses and they know what they need.  They have had their head hanging over the abyss. They have come to a point in their life where they know something has to change and there must be something more to life than what they had previously experienced.  They are eager to hear the good news of Jesus Christ and that good news changes them.  When they come forward to receive Holy Communion there is an eagerness in their eyes.  They know they need Christ and his unconditional love.  For many of these men it is the first time they have felt a real sense of peace in their lives.

Due to the COVID 19 pandemic the South Dakota Department of Corrections is not allowing any visitors or volunteers inside of the prison. I am unable to go inside for pastoral care visits or to lead worship.  However, I record a worship service on DVD and send it in each week. The service is played on the prison’s internal TV system.  The men watch the service in their cells rather than assemble as a congregation.

At St Dysmas Lutheran Church all are truly welcome to worship with us.  The good news of Jesus Christ is proclaimed to all people. It is a joy to be called to bring that message to this community worshiping behind the bars of a prison.

Rev. Wayne Gallipo is a graduate of Luther Seminary and served in three parishes prior to taking the call to serve as Lead Pastor for St. Dysmas of South Dakota.  He serves as a board member and treasurer of Prison Congregations of America (PCA). The mission of PCA is to build communities of faith inside and outside of prisons in the United States. Rev. Gallipo and his wife Rev. Joy Gonnerman live in Sioux City, IA.

Shari Seifert is a Realtor and is committed to working on racial justice in the ELCA.  Jessica is passionate about all forms of injustice, especially in the church.  Shari and Jessica are members of the European Descent Lutheran Association for Racial Justice, (EDLARJ) which is one of six ethnic associations in the ELCA.  EDLARJ works in solidarity with ELCA communities through witness, partnership and by confronting racism through trainings. Our tagline is “Awaken Hearts, Inspire Transformation and Confront Injustice”.  

We are writing this blog because we see how the effects of this pandemic are compounded by the effects of systemic and everyday racism.  The disparities seem even more stark and clear now. Since much of our nation is highly segregated, it can be hard to see beyond what one is personally experiencing.  We both have work and personal relationships with people of other races so we are acutely aware of the disparity between groups that have been systemically resourced by our societal structure, and those that have been under-resourced by those in power for generations.  We hope that this blog post will help to awaken hearts, lead to transformation and more folks confronting the injustices this pandemic makes clear.  

Tale of Two Pandemics by Shari Seifert and Jess Harren 

We have white privilege.  During this pandemic, we are living very different lives than People of Color (POC)- – it is like a tale of two pandemics.   If we are outside, we are unlikely to be stopped by police. If we go to the store in a mask, we are assumed to be caring for our neighbors, not criminals.  When we go grocery shopping, no one spits on us because we appear Asian. Although there are also class disparities in this pandemic, is it notable that statistically, many middle class white folks are homeowners and  even if white folks and POC are in the same class, they will experience this pandemic differently. 

For the first time, some of us are feeling restrictions in our movement and access to medical care.  Many POC have known these restrictions for their entire lives.  Many white folks are not used to having restricted movement and are now protesting en mass in public.   Many POC live in food deserts.  We are used to constant access to anything we want.  

This doesn’t mean our lives are not extra complicated right now.  Jess is having to do online school with a child who got a lot of accommodations for various medical and neurological conditions.  Jess lives with disabilities and is more likely to get very sick if she gets COVID-19.  Jess and her family are grieving the loss of vacations and school.  And yet, for a family of color, even with similar resources, life is harder.  For example, the illustration in Jess’s child’s books for online learning are mostly of white kids.  The assignments are culturally relevant.  When Jess goes to the store to pick up medicine, no one assumes she’s a criminal or spits on her.  The police don’t stop her for being out because her neighborhood isn’t policed.  

Shari is working from home, sharing workspace with her oldest son who is in college and has Autism and anxiety. This son has access to a therapist through telemedicine where he is taken seriously. Her younger son is doing high school from home. Both boys have their own computers and can easily get help with schoolwork.  Days when grocery orders are finally ready are celebrated!  When Shari gets tired of being inside, she can play fetch in the backyard with the family dog.  Running Shari’s small business of  selling real estate comes with no guarantees,  except that bills and Shari’s assistant still need to be paid. Sometimes it is hard not to worry and fall into scarcity mode.  The reality is that many of Shari’s clients are less affected by the pandemic and business is continuing and if her business falls on hard times, there are family members that can help.   For many POC, staying home from work is not an option, there is not good access to health care, access to healthy food is harder, not every child has their own device for doing school work, there may not be family members that can help financially, housing is more dense and there is not a private back yard to play with the dog in.  

We are all struggling now.  People are dying alone, many funerals can’t be held, grandparents can’t hug their grandchildren, many people have lost jobs, businesses are shuttered and we all face uncertainty.   These things are all true and entrenched systemic racism still gives white people of all classes advantages in this pandemic.  This crisis lands on people in very different and important ways. Not all white people are rich and not all people of color are poor, but the majority of White Americans are middle class homeowners that live in stable communities.  The disproportionate number of POC dying is heartbreaking.   We don’t have to do anything to keep this unjust system in place.  Change is stubborn and requires faithful and persistent effort like speaking up at racist jokes or memes, listening to and following people of color (we recommend reading this piece by Jeremiah Bey Ellison),  shifting money to POC led organizations for racial justice and praying for the whole Body of Christ including our POC friends.  If you still have an income or access to money, consider sending your stimulus check to a POC led organization in your community. 

We pray the Holy Spirit enters our hearts and moves us to action.  

Blogger Bios:

  Shari Seifert  lives in Minneapolis with her wife, two sons and the cutest Golden Doodle you have ever seen.  She works as a Realtor and  is committed to working for racial justice in the ELCA.  Shari is currently vice-president of the European Descent Lutheran Association for Racial Justice (EDLARJ),  a member of the Minneapolis Synod racial justice table, her congregation’s Race Equity Committee and Multi-faith Anti-Racism and Healing (MARCH)     She is also on the core planning  team for the Multicultural Youth Leadership Experience (MYLE).

Rev. Jessica A. Harren Pastors two congregations (Lutheran Church of Martha and Mary and Open Heart faith gathering). She provides resources, trainings, workshops, and consulting on Family Systems, Emergent Worship, Consent Culture, ableism and racism in church, as well as other topics. Pastor Jess teaches discipleship culture and coaches other church leaders through Spark Faith.  She is a member of Proclaim (the professional organization for LGBTQIA+ rostered ministers and seminarians in the ELCA) and is a member of EDLARJ and Another Pebble, the Metro Chicago Synod’s Anti-Racism Team.  She lives in a suburb of Chicago with her spouse, child, and two cats.  

In the heated battle of humanity versus covid-19, the Zoom meeting app is booming. People want to see and be seen. Big learning curve for many. But free and open to everyone!

Indeed, being seen, and even loved, is one of life’s deepest joys. Conversely, not being seen, yet being hated, is a heavy stressor.

The surge of hate crimes against Asians in the US shows that Asian Americans are not seen by many as good neighbors, friends, Americans. No matter who we are, if we have a “Chinese” face, our personal safety and well-being are at risk. Not only coronavirus, but from coronavirus rage.

National reporting site A3PCON says that 2/3 of those attacked are not even Chinese, but of other Asian ethnicities.

Spitting, verbal abuse, harassment, bullying, beatings. A six year old boy was stabbed on his head, requiring stitches. And women are three times more likely to be harassed than men. One woman suffered severe chemical burns when a man deliberately threw acid at her.

I’ve been confronted and assaulted before. US history and my own history tell me that living in my own city, my own country is seriously dangerous. Now it is even worse. My heart sank when elected leaders used racist terms like “kung flu” and “Chinese virus.” Their ill-chosen words set up Asian Americans to be mocked and blamed. Angry people may choose at any time to lash out at us. Anyone targeted for violence knows what I mean. It feels like just being out in public will mean having to run a gauntlet.

Meanwhile, the Asian American community is very diverse: culturally, geographically, socio-economically. Many will say they are fine, and have never experienced racism. But many will also confirm the pain it causes when it does strike. Please help to spread the word that people who “look Chinese” are not the virus. We are not covid-19 carriers just because we are Asian. We are not the enemy! We are Asian Americans, trying to “flatten the curve” like mostly everybody else.

It’s ghastly how many people have died so suddenly in Queens, New York. A dozen tractor trailer sized trucks — mobile morgues — were parked outside Elmhurst Hospital to store the bodies of the dead. I used to live in this immigrant enclave area of Queens, one of the most diverse counties in the US. I loved the vibrant Chinese and Latino life there. Now it’s shut down, and the people are reeling.

My church is there. Eight blocks from the hospital, St. Jacobus Lutheran offers one of only two food pantries still open in Elmhurst, serving 100-300 families a week. More young families now, and Latino. Two or three generations living in an apartment, with no work to be had. And available resources do not match the needs. “The virus has exposed what’s been there all along,” says my pastor, Joe Mantovani. “How high the rents are. How hard it is to find enough work to feed their families.”

Many Asian American families citywide are also at risk for starvation and homelessness, reports the Coalition for Asian Children and Families (CACF). They are like US Americans of all backgrounds who had worked for low wages and tips, with no safety net. The struggle is fierce for too many, including African Americans dying in high numbers.

We are trying, as our beloved New York Governor Andrew Cuomo urges, to be “tough, smart, disciplined, united and loving.” I know my resilience can only happen in a collective. Every day I give God thanks for my husband, family, friends, pastor, and caring people I don’t know who work for peace and justice.

All of us in US America have a long way to go, and some much farther. If we look to see the good in others, honor each other’s humanity, work against poverty, despair, racism, we will make great strides for a better future for all.

I wish every Zoom user everywhere would realize that a Chinese American, Andrew Yuan, created the app. It’s just one example of what Asian Americans can contribute to the US and the world. I pray that more of us will “zoom together for racial justice,” whether literally or not. “Join the zoom meeting,” I’d invite. “I’ll bring Chinese food, you bring whatever you like, and we’ll share.” It could be a big learning curve at first. But with God as our host, we cannot fail. Free and open to everyone!

Lily R. Wu, is a Chinese American Lutheran who has worked as a church communicator for more than 40 years. She also served as a vice-president of the Association of Asians and Pacific Islanders-ELCA.

I reside in a high-rise apartment building in a racailly and ethically diverse Chicago suburb. My neighbors are American Indian, Black, Puerto Rican, Russian, Assyrian, Asian, Greek and White. We are food service workers, stay at home parents, people with disabilities, college students, musicians, health care professionals, engineers, and retirees. We are families with young children, adults caring for aging parents and adults living alone. We are Muslim, Jewish, Christian, atheist, spiritual and not religious. We are mix of experiences, beliefs, racial groups, ethnic identities sexual orientations and gender expressions. Yet, with all this diversity around me, I was astounded when a neighbor texted an anti-Asian meme to my cell.  I quickly replied back with a concern for her text and the growing anti-Asian sentiment spreading in this country. I have a feeling that I am not alone. Perhaps you have experienced something similar from a friend, a neighbor or relative. You heard the ping of an incoming text, and there it was—a joke, a meme , a  comment from someone that you know, like or love that was racist. I’m not only talking about those only in the dominant white group. It also happens horizontally among and between people of color. Each of us can perpetuate and contribute to the spreading of racist memes, jokes or comments. I call it everyday racism.

With all of us sheltering-in place and social distancing, our reliance on social media, texting and the internet is vital to our existence. We need these platforms to escape the endless news cycles of fear and uncertainty. We need these platforms for comic relief. We need these platforms for our online worship experiences for feeling gathered while we are scattered. As much as I enjoy interacting across these platforms, they can also be sources of threat and harm. The Covid-19 pandemic has heightened anti-Asian racism. Jokes, memes, comments and inaccurate information are responsible for perpetuating negative stereotypes that fuel distrust, anger and fear of and for Asian American lives. In one week, more than 650 Asian-Americans reported acts of racism and discrimination in the online reporting forum #StopAAPIHate. The reports include incidents of verbal harassment; vandalism of property; refusal of service from ride share drivers; to violent physical assaults. Unfortunately, anti-Asian racism is not new. It is baked in U.S. history. The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 excluded Chinese immigrants from coming to the U.S. and excluded Chinese nationalist living in the U.S. from becoming citizens. During World War II, 120,000 Japanese Americans were uprooted from their homes and forced into internment camps. Even today, many Asian Americans are still stereotyped as the perpetual foreigner, even though they trace their American roots back generations.

I may not be a person of Asian descent, but I am a Black woman.  I know what everyday racism and sexism feel like. Right now, our siblings in Christ, friends, neighbors, leaders of Asian descent need to know that they are not alone.   Asian American healthcare professionals, teachers, first responders, food service works, pastors, scientists, and volunteers are serving during this pandemic. Many placing their lives at risk in fighting this virus. They don’t need further threats of violence, discrimination or messages of hate.

Our ELCA Baptismal covenant calls us “…to serve all people, following the example of Jesus; and Strive for justice and peace in all the earth.” Confronting racism isn’t easy. Especially when it involves people that we like, love or live next door.  If you see or hear something…say something. Let them know how their words or actions made you feel and that you don’t respond to messages that devalue and cause harm.  If you see something online, flag it. Let social media platforms know that everyone should feel safe online. Lastly, we don’t have to do this alone. Time and time again members across this church have shown up for racial justice. We have marched together for #BlackLivesMatter. We’ve stood shoulder to shoulder in solidarity with our Muslim neighbors. We’ve accompanied migrant minors at the southern border. We’ve condemned white supremacy and declared ourselves a sanctuary denomination.

We have been here before….now, let’s do it again.

Judith Roberts serves as the ELCA Director for Racial Justice.