Beyond Listening

I was going to write this last night, but realized that I needed to sleep on it. My head was too full of the pain of others’ stories. Late night news carried coverage of the nation-wide ongoing response to the discovery of 250 children’s bodies in a mass grave at a residential school last Friday. Then I started reading a 111 page report of the Rainbow Communion committee, compiled for my denomination from hearing the stories of LGBTQI people and their treatment by our church. Our annual national General Assembly is this weekend when the report and recommendations will be heard virtually.

I know that we have been listening to the pain of our indigenous brothers and sisters for several years now through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. My denomination has issued formal apologies and made reparations for some of the harm done. We have had followup reports and recommendations made and stories told in our denominational magazine and newspaper. We’ve been listening. And through the Rainbow Communion we now have this report of the result of a group of trusted people creating safe space to listen to those of sexual and gender minorities and their families. We have listened. And we have felt many things in response - guilt, anger, shame, overwhelmed, despair, denial, inconvenience.

We have listened but have we truly heard these people? In hearing, have we honoured and recognized their experiences as legitimate and valid and their lives just as important and worthy of concern as our own? Because if we truly did that, then we should be moved to respond. Listening and affirming someone’s story is necessary and valuable, but if we have truly heard then we can’t be silent or complacent. We can’t just throw our hands up in the air and shake our heads and say “that’s too bad” or even “this is tragic”.. Apologies are meaningful but only go so far. A good apology not only admits the wrong done but takes steps to right the wrong and to not repeat it.

I’ve seen many posts on facebook as people respond to the First Nations crisis and to pride month. As someone rightly said, putting your picture with a frame of support costs nothing and lasts a day - what about demanding that our government provide clean drinking water and the uncovering of all mass graves and records of children who died whose parents never knew what happened to them? What about being an active ally to LGBTQI people and taking a stand in conversations around you? We, the people of privilege, have the ability to use our unearned power in ways that empower and heal.

Each week I write an e-mail message to the congregation where I’m serving. This week I addressed the mass grave information and added the link to a prayer from our denomination’s website in response as well as information about the role we played in residential schools. I asked for ideas of how we can move beyond head knowledge to making a difference. We can learn from this and never repeat it. We can ensure that we take ownership and promote and fund pathways to healing and dignity and respect for our First Nations brothers and sisters. This equally applies to our LGBTQI brothers and sisters.

Listening is a good place to start, but it is just that - a start. Our work does not end with hearing, but in honouring what we have heard and showing generations coming after us that we acted to stop the harm and to value others as much as ourselves. Because Jesus showed us over and over again that this is what we should do.