For me and my friend Erica, becoming community shalom builders began with a conversation in her living room two years ago. We met at church, located in an affluent, primarily white suburb of Milwaukee. She stood out in a crowd of Caucasians: a confident, tall black woman sporting a glorious head of 3C curls—whose grown children are as much her glory as her hair. I camouflaged into the status quo as a petite, wavy blonde-haired, trying-to-have-it-together white woman with a gaggle of young kids constantly swirling around me.
Because of our differing cultural backgrounds and seasons of life, we may have been an unlikely duo, but—in a sea of homogeneous thought—we found one another, and thankfully so. What we share is greater than our differences. It turns out we have a lot in common—we’re both nurses, we’ve both moved extensively due to military affiliations, and we’re both women of faith. But most of all, we had similar questions: Why is our community 95% white? What makes our friends afraid to travel to the city 10 miles south? What public policies have been instrumental in creating cultural and geographic racial divides?
Erica, spurred by our questions, began to host discussions, starting in her home with only five people. The need to continue the conversation—due to the interest and complacency we observed—led to the formation of a grassroots forum for education, discussion, and action called Bridge the Divide. Two years later the group has morphed into a powerhouse of community action. We invite dynamic speakers to monthly meetings at the local library, plan special events, host a bi-monthly podcast, and engage with local school administrators and police, to name a few things.
Early on, we committed to interact with love, to listen while reserving judgement, to help foster healing from racial injustices, and to wake up apathetic attitudes. We challenge the lenses through which humanity tends to interpret others, so fears and animosity will be disarmed and reconciliation prevail. Bridge the Divide’s (BTD) endeavors, simply put, are striving towards community shalom.
In racial healing work, we talk about Beloved Community, a society where people from different backgrounds can operate in love for others, justice, and equality. After the Montgomery bus boycott, a seminal event in the American civil rights movement, Dr. Martin Luther King said of the movement he was building, “The end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the Beloved Community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opponents into friends… It is this love which will bring about miracles in the hearts of men.”
Shalom is a biblical concept that mirrors the idea of Beloved Community. It’s a word associated with peace, but it’s a holistic and robust peace that transcends into all realms—mind, body, and spirit, individual and societal, earth and heaven. It’s been used by prophets to describe God’s intended future for his chosen people. A blessing from Numbers 6; “The Lord bless you, and keep you; The Lord make his face shine on you, and be gracious to you; The Lord lift up his countenance on you, and give you peace (shalom).” A word for then and today, a desired state for now and forever, shalom is God’s intention for us.
Writer Doug Hershey further explains, “Shalom is taken from the root word shalam, which means, to be safe in mind, body, or estate. Although it can describe the absence of war, a majority of biblical references refer to an inner completeness and tranquility. [This] completeness, fullness, or a type of wholeness encourages [us] to give back—to generously re-pay something in some way.” This definition indicates that shalom is indeed a desired state, but not just for our own benefit. It also leads to action on behalf of others. When inner completeness and peace are present, there will be an accompanying desire to extend it beyond ourselves.
On this journey with Erica, I’ve observed much stubborn opposition to moving from one’s own experiences to listening to those of people of color. We must set aside our need for rightness in order to grow. We must set aside unwavering political identities to decrease division. We must set aside our arguments and our small versions of a white North American God to take a hand, to stand beside, to unify. What did Christ come for, if not to set a cursed people and a cursed world free? It’s us, Church. We’re the best chance for shalom in a world that’s living in unrest.
I have two calls to action in the name of community shalom, especially in regards to racial healing work:
Embrace and practice lament
We can’t hope with the fullest of its potential about problems we do not feel deeply in our souls. Lament unifies our hearts to God’s—it admits we hurt and also understand that we’re unable to change circumstances on our own. God is the God of justice, he is not offended by our laments.
Paul Miller in A Praying Life: Connecting With God in a Distracting World comments, “We think laments are disrespectful. God says the opposite. Lamenting shows you are engaged with God in a vibrant, living faith. We live in a deeply broken world. If the pieces of our world aren’t breaking your heart and you aren’t in God’s face about them, then …you’ve thrown in the towel.”
No part of the human race should have to hurt alone. When we refuse to listen to the injustices and traumas people of color and co-mourn, we’re not living out shalom. We’re living a false religion; one where veneer is valued over vulnerability. It is part of a holistic relationship with God and our communities to lament. With God, to show Him our dependence, and with our communities to show our interdependence.
Stop idolizing rightness to favor kindness and curiosity
As Christians, we’re certain the foundation of our faith, the Gospel, is the best news the world could ever hear. Because we feel certain about this, we can become smug about all our opinions and beliefs. However, truly living out the Gospel means challenging our sense of right-ness. As we grow in our Christian faith we should become increasingly humble and extend the same grace we’ve received to others.
In one of my daughter’s favorite books, Wonder, there’s a quote, “When given the choice between being right and being kind, choose kind.” Christians, we have an opportunity to look different, to be the kind ones. Instead of dismissing people of color when they’re defensive, angry, or “pulling the race card,” assume that there’s more to the story. When we’re curious about others’ experiences, it leads to de-escalation and opportunities to learn and make genuine human connections.
There are many resources to explore, a world of people to interview, and questions to ask yourself as you consider your own knowledge and attitudes around racial tension and injustice. Here are a few to start:
Have I intentionally and aggressively sought to educate myself further on issues of racism by talking with others, viewing films/videos, finding reading material, attending lectures, joining a study group or other activities?
Have I spent time reflecting on my own childhood and upbringing, and analyzing where, how, and when I was receiving racist messages?
Have I openly disagreed with a racist comment, joke, reference, or action of those around me?
From the outside, Bridge the Divide is a flurry of activity, mostly resting on Erica’s capable and enthusiastic shoulders. But percolating underneath it all, the glue that holds us together, the marrow to our bones, and sustenance to our efforts: hope for a better state. Our desire for community shalom leads us to action. Nelson Mandela said it well, “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s [own] chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” Consider this your invitation to join us in community shalom building.
Shalom is a desired state, but not just for our own benefit. It also leads to action on behalf of others. Will you join us in community shalom building? Click To Tweet
