dir/new_school/rant: T h r o w n t o t h e w o l v e s
June 3rd
I made pilgrimage to Dahlonega, Georgia this weekend. While I live and
work in Atlanta, I spend a lot of my weekends with friends in the small
college town of Athens, Ga. The holy journey took place in the new KungFu
and it was quite the experience. My friend's
priest was making his last sermon to his congregation. We were his backup and
moral support. And the mission was simple: make
his exit as painless as possible with support and presence. So I went from
Atlanta to Athens, Athens to Dahlonega, where we heard the last words fall
from the mouth of a good man, as he carried his congregation on to God one
more time.
The drive to Dahlonega, a sleepy mountain town in north Georgia, was pleasant and filled with the lovely visage of
pastures and small widely spaced towns that you didn't realize you were in
till you'd already left them behind. We were halted by a Ride for Life, which
is a motorcycle event and we sat for almost thirty minutes as literally
thousands of fundraising motorcyclists made there trek for charity across
Georgia.
When we finally made it up the twisty mountain roads of Dahlonega, we
were easily forty five minutes late, we would be walking into church in the
later stage of a sermon and I had anxiety about that in and of itself. I am a
recovering Catholic and the church was
Episcopalian. Which is ok, cause after being Catholic,
you can coast through an Episcopalian sermon and congregation. The ritual of
standing and kneeling and sitting were familiar, as
were the off key singing and the act of communion but the weight of entering a
church and having to mingle with a crowd of people in such a personal setting
was daunting.
Being in places like Dahlonega can be a weird experience to start with.
Let me rephrase, being a black guy in Dahlonega can be strange. The black presence is limited at best. The
children stare at you openly, The adults are more subtle, unconsciously
looking at you and turning their heads automatically when you look
back at them. You stick out a bit and it's not really a black thing, if I was
purple or had zebra stripes it'd be the same. Take a white guy to the deepest
parts of a neighborhood, where the white faces are at best behind a counter or
badge and you'll get the same response. Outsider, different, not of us. Slap
that on top of the often times closed and insular nature of a established
church community and you just stock up on anxiety and drawing attention.
I am intimidated by churches. I am inexplicably drawn with a
outsider’s want to be in. A fervent fear to never
cross its arches usually halts my progress. My
perception of religion in a social context is skewered and usually I feel as
if I am in exile. That I cannot return to any sense of theology, past some
eastern philosophy interminglings that I live by. Entering a church is a wary
notion for me.
On arrival, we had no way of entering discreetly or
quietly, not only were we entering a strange solemn moment of painful closure,
but we were outsiders. If you had to pick people that didn't look like regular
members of the church it would have been us. So we sat in the back, trying to
blend in, while my friend's daughter shrieked to
high hell and was dragged kicking and screaming outside, by her father.
Trumpets would have been more subtle.
A theo-political coup had taken place within the flock, the manipulative
arms of the gossip machine had gone full bore and the “Ides
of March” were upon him. Rather than fight
to continue leading the congregation, which seemingly had not completely
rallied to save its spiritual leader from a fabricated mud slinging attack. My
friend's priest made the choice to exit and
really there are some good fights and then there are some losing battles. And
he chose to exit gracefully, with his dignity and his pride intact.
I took part in his service, though I did not feel comfortable with
taking communion* in a strange church. I was comfortable with my friend's
Minister, I'd heard a number of reasons for his ousting but to reflect on that
would be rumoring, which is what seemingly started the whole ordeal, better to
say that his presence and conviction were
passionate and quite good. His words refused to be anything but intimate, due
to its small size,
the sermon kept a rich tenor and body, the meaning was sharp and the heart
beat clear in devotion. To be honest I wasn't quite sure why they were willing
to lose such a passionate person.
Later in the sermon, when he opened the floor to dialogue, passion and
dissension rang strong as a number of the parishioners made announcement to
leave the congregation and others still spoke of how strong and nurturing he'd
been to them. So how could he have helped so many people and touched deeply on
so many lives on so many different levels and not be respected and loved as
the spiritual tour guide of his church?
It was probably a bunch of bullshit. I mean really, church people are
not above bullshit. You can go to church and be petty, you can be
manipulative. But in community, bullshit can only get flung around and cause
damage when the devoted people, the touched, the ones who actually are really
benefiting from it, the ones who don't get involved in the
"bullshit" turn a blind eye to the shit starters. When they hear
nothing. When they "don't want to get involved." This is when bullshit sticks to the wall and the evil in a few people
can conquer the good- albeit passive, lack of action on the part of the many.
I can talk about the heart, passion and regret that hung in the air.
This is what I observed and it looked like a bunch of people who went with the
flow…and that is the bullshit. The craven ones, who don't want to "get
in the middle" that "really liked him" and "thought it was
such a shame" are worse then the bad ones who wanted to get rid of him..
Let's get old school, folks.
Do you have my back?
If it really goes down are you gonna cover me or will you "ho
hum" and lament about how it was a lousy thing which happened to me, but
"what could I have done?"
We're so bloody passive, so blind eyed to not sticking up to help
others. I don't understand it. I don't understand most of my peers and their
desire to not want to get involved, not want to be a part of anything which
involves conflict. Not wanting hassles and not intervening when sometimes the
only thing needed is your voice of disapproval. There are good people who go
quietly into light alone, because no one was willing to intervene and offer
support and then we sigh, mutter "People suck, what is the world coming
to…"
After the moving ceremony and the too late words of those that wanted
their minister to stay, those who would now "miss him" everyone
went downstairs to see him off and have cake and cookies. Blah.
"Goodbye, we hate to see you go, but let's all hang downstairs like
this is an upbeat moment".
Fuck that and pardon my French. I always smell hypocrisy when I enter
churches. This day was no different.
In the movie version of this, all the parishioners, realizing that they
had done too little too late, would stop going to the church, and make a
candle light vigil to the Minister's house and
he'd hold church outside in his backyard.
This is not a movie, though. In real life, we lament, piss and
moan and go back to our routine, wondering why people suck and snack on a
cookie, wonder why everyone isn't digging into the cake.
So I'll ask a big question…
How many tragedies will fall at your passive feet, while you shake your
head about how sad it is, when you could have fought the funk?
We can still make a difference. The only thing that can defeat a man is
when he looks ahead and realizes that he is so alone, while surrounded by a
crowd of good intentions.
Save the cake and the punch and stand up for one thing. Stand up for one
guy who just got sand kicked in his face and he will have your back forever.
Pussies…
*Definitions provided by Dictionary.com
1. com·mun·ion (k -my n y n) n. 1. The act or an instance of sharing,
as of thoughts or feelings. 2. Religious or spiritual fellowship. 3. A body of
Christians with a common religious faith who practice the same rites; a
denomination. 4. Communion Ecclesiastical. a. The sacrament of the Eucharist
received by a congregation. b. The consecrated elements of the Eucharist. c.
The part of the Mass or a liturgy in which the Eucharist is received.
2. Eu·cha·rist (y k r- st)n. 1. A sacrament and the central act of
worship in many Christian churches, which was instituted at the Last Supper
and in which bread and wine are consecrated and consumed in remembrance of
Jesus's death; Communion. 2. The consecrated elements of this rite; Communion.