Liberative Faith

Rev. Douglas Taylor


This video we just watched – KEEP LOVING: A Universal Love Song by Empty Hands Music is perhaps an interesting choice on my part. Rap music is not my usual genre of appreciation, is not what we usually offer in our worship services. But I could not resist using this video for two reasons. One reason, perhaps obviously, is the message of the song. The opening stanza says:

Whether you’re different, same, ignorant or intelligent

Whether you tell the truth, lie or embellish it

Whether you live in gratitude or for the hell of it

It doesn’t really matter, we’re still one single fellowship

The statement of unity is not new or radical. What struck me though is how loaded with judgement the listed differences can be. ‘Living in gratitude or for the hell of it’- it doesn’t take much to figure out if Rev. Taylor has an opinion about which is better. Spoiler: living in gratitude is better. “It doesn’t really matter,” the song says. Do you lie or tell the truth? ‘it doesn’t really matter, we’re still one single fellowship.’ I think it does matter. I am in favor of not lying (although ‘embellishing the truth’ is something I have declared acceptable a la Emily Dickenson.)

What I’m saying is that the message of radical acceptance in these lyrics is very unusual. It challenges me, pushes me to live my values.

So keep loving,

It’ll change your heart, it’ll change your mind

And then you’ll start to change your eyes

So keep loving

Everything you touch, everyone you see

Will soon become, your family

I offered us this auto-tuned rap song for two reasons. One is the radical message of acceptance and love in the lyrics. The other is the visual representation. For those of you who listened on the phone or didn’t see the video – it is a depiction of a variety of people on a subway. Over the course of the song, they shift from being wary of each other to smiling and dancing with each other. They go from being isolated to being connected. It reminded me of a very powerful reflection I’d found in a class I taught her several years back.

It was a reflection on justice-making as a spiritual disciple from the Spirit of Life curriculum.  The author Robert Thurman is a Professor of Buddhist Studies at Columbia University. He writes:

Imagine you are on the subway. In your subway car are all sorts of people, the kinds of people who would normally ride on the subway in a big city. A mix of working class, wealthy, and middle class people. People speaking many different languages, people of many skin colors and cultures, people of many ages. Some people who are clean and polished looking, others who are smelly and unkempt. Some who are quiet, some who talk too loud, some who talk to themselves. Some who annoy you terribly and some who you find attractive. All sorts of people are on this subway car, heading to their destination.

All of a sudden, Martians come and zap the subway car. And soon you figure out that as a result of this zap, everyone on the subway car is going to be together—forever.

How does that change the way you act? Think about it.  If they’re freaking out, you’re going to try to calm them.  If they’re hungry, you’re going to try to feed them.  If they’re arguing, you’re going to try to figure out what’s going on and seek resolution.  If there’s injustice, you’re going to try to make it just.

You do it because suddenly, these assorted people on the subway are your people. The ones you will dwell with forever. You care about them in a whole different way. What we do and what we care about matters. When we allow ourselves to see the bigger picture, we can see that we are all already on that subway car—Earth.

We are absolutely interconnected and interdependent, (Robert Thurman concludes).  How we are, what we do, they ripple out.  Whatever happens “over there,” happens “over here,” too.  Because these people are your people. My people. Our people.

This way of seeing each other is not normal for us. Division through fear and hate are such old tools in our world. The old genetic tribalism drives us to separate each other into friends and enemies, us and them, good people and bad people, my people and other people. Fear and hate are powerful tools that keep us small and fractured. A love that could build something better among us would indeed be revolutionary.

So keep loving,

It’ll change your heart, it’ll change your mind

And then you’ll start to change your eyes

So keep loving

Everything you touch, everyone you see

Will soon become, your family

Our reading this morning is from Valarie Kaur. In her recent book, See No Stranger: A memoir and manifesto of Revolutionary Love she offers a compelling message for our lives today. She bids us to look at others and say you are a part of me I do not yet know.

In her book she talks about the experience of being a brown-skinned Sikh from India in the aftermath of the 9/11 terror attacks. In the days and weeks after the towers were destroyed, there was a rash of hate crimes against Arab Americans and South Asian Americans, as well as against Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs.

Many people were harassed, targeted with verbal abuse, threatened and banned simply because of their ethnicity and religion. The first person murdered in retaliation of the 9/11 attack almost 20 years ago was a Sikh man named Balbir Singh Sodhi. He was gunned down at his gas station in Arizona by a man who claimed to be a patriot.

Valarie Kaur knew him. To her, Mr. Balbir Singh Sodhi, the first hate crime victim of 9/11 was Balbir Uncle. She shares stories of him in her book, his generosity, his smile, his faith. He was not Muslim or Arab, but he was brown-skinned and wearing a turban so it was close enough for hate. Valarie describes her anger, her grief, her pain after the murder of Balbir Uncle.  

She also describes her first dramatic lesson in Revolutionary Love. There was an interfaith prayer memorial a week after the murder. Three thousand people came to pray and weep and share a resolution against hate together. Valarie Kaur describes the impact this had on Joginder Auntie – the widow.

She bore the pain, but she did not bear it alone. She shared it with people she had never met before. “They didn’t even know me,” she kept saying. “But they cried with me.” (p56)

For Valarie Kaur, this was an eye-opening. Her grief-stricken auntie, like Valarie herself, had been angry at the country at the people who hated her husband for no valid reason, at the pain this violence had caused. But her auntie saw something else as well.

There is a powerful drive toward division among us. But there is also a drive toward love. People can decide to hate and hurt people they have never met – people they do not know and never will interact with. And people can decide to love and bless strangers as well. “How can you say you love them; you do not even know them?” But people have done much and more out of a choice to hate, why not love? The choice to love strangers is not less illogical and irrational than the choice to hate random people because of some genetic characteristic such as ethnicity.

Valarie Kaur shot into our national attention a little over four years ago, at the edge of Donald Trump’s presidency. She had been a tireless advocate and activist for peace and civil rights over decades, but there was a moment when her voice rose into our national attention. She was one of the speakers on New Year’s Eve in 2016 for a Repairers of the Breach rally with Rev. William Barber. She asked, “What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb?”

How do we breathe and push?

There is something different happening around us today, something like the massive social changes that occurred in the ‘60’s. More people are paying attention. More people are unwilling to back down in the face of ongoing injustice. There is a turning underway. The killing of black and brown people is not being swept under the rug as easily. The immoral plight of migrant children in cages at our southern boarder continues to be in the news. The urgency of the global climate crisis is looming and people are not backing down. Something different is happening among us today. People are pushing. We are breathing through the grief and pushing and pushing and pushing as the midwives have taught us.

Kaur calls us to act with Revolutionary Love. It is a key element of her faith as a Sikh. I imagine you will not be surprised to hear how The Golden Rule is manifest in all the world’s religious traditions. This call to ‘do unto others as you would have others do unto you,’ is a call into Revolutionary Love, to see no stranger, to allow love to change your mind and change your heart as that rap song suggested – “and then you’ll start to change your eyes.”

It is a call to see the stranger as a neighbor, even as a sibling. We are all kin and we can treat each other as such. We are all on this subway car together. We are all in danger from this pandemic and from the rot of systemic racism and the impact of the climate crisis. We are all in danger and we are paying attention because we are kin.

And this Revolutionary Love calls us to live as kin, to see our connectedness beyond old tribal lines of fear and hate. It is not a new call. Indeed, it is a call that has echoed through the ages and cultures and faith traditions forever. Today, it is a call to raise a fist and say “Black Lives Matter” because we care about the abusive police in our white supremacy culture and want them to heal and stop hurting too. It is a call today to refuse the lies and conspiracies rampant in our politics because truth matters and also because we care about the people being deceived and spreading hate and want them to heal and stop hurting too.

And it goes on like this – wanting justice out of love instead of anger. It goes on like this for the poor and the immigrant and the abused and traumatized. The call of revolutionary love goes on like this calling us to see no stranger. To recognize that we are woven together in a single garment of destiny. To begin to change how we see the world and one another. To breathe and to push as the midwives have taught us.

And today, something new is happening. And our faith calls us into liberation. And our Love calls us to see each other as kin. And more and more people are pushing together to bring a better world into being.

In a world without end,

May it be so.