Our second UU principle: A struggle for justice and compassion

This sermon was given by Stephen Merino on July 27, 2014.

We affirm and promote justice, equity, and compassion in human relations. Justice, equity, and compassion. Feel-good words for UUs, but what do they mean? My own understanding of these words has evolved immensely. I grew up in an upper-middle class, mostly white neighborhood in a devout Mormon household. Forgive me for being personal. I think that our socioeconomic backgrounds, or own experience of race and ethnicity, and our religious roots all have an enormous impact on how we think about issues of justice, fairness, and deservingness. Coming from that context, “justice” was mostly of the retributive kind. That is, punishment for wrongdoing, either in this life in the next. A product of Mormonism and our shared American culture, I believed that it’s entirely up to the individual to succeed in life, and to follow God’s plan. Sure, we had our share of racism and sexism in the past, and sure some people still have a bum deal in life, but, you know, anybody can achieve what they want if they work hard enough. Compassion and charity were important, but only in fairly proscribed and limited ways, and often to those who are seen as deserving. During college, especially my first grad school stint in Michigan, my views started to change. I began to be aware that others worshipped, loved, and lived differently than I did, and that that was OK. But more importantly, I began to notice my privilege. My white privilege and the privilege of growing up in an affluent home and attending great schools with great peers.

These days, I think about justice and equity nearly every day. As a sociologist, I think, teach, and study issues of inequality, power, privilege, and opportunity. I am grateful for this, even when it is exhausting and frustrating (and it often is when you have 60-some students in a classroom, all of whom have different thoughts and experiences). I am uniquely aware of the extent of inequality in our society. I could list facts and figures all day – like the fact that the typical white family has 20 times the wealth of the typical black or Latino family. Or that the unemployment rate for college-educated blacks is twice that of blacks. Or that whites and blacks use and sell drugs at the same rate, but that blacks are far more likely to be arrest and incarcerated for it. Or how about this – 15% of Americans live under the poverty line, a number relatively unchanged over the last few decades. Today that’s about 50 million of us. And children are much more likely than adults to be in poverty. We’re getting a better and better understanding of how poverty is almost like a disease – it affects intellectual development, health, and limits upward economic and social mobility. And how it’s a creation of our society and the rules of our economy. I could talk about the infamous gender wage gap and glass ceiling. I could talk about the many legal and social benefits denied to millions of Americans, simply for who they love. Or, and I feel this so much more acutely because of who my students are, the millions of immigrants kept in the shadows, vulnerable and disadvantaged because they happened to be born in another country and lack legal status in our own. And kept in the shadows because they are viewed as a threat, as “illegal,” as invaders, as moochers. A few days ago on a certain cable news show, the hosts breathlessly reported on an uptick in 911 calls in which callers, often “illegals,” demanded help . . . in Spanish! The lack of compassion was truly astounding. Such is our fear and division. We’ve seen the same thing with the reaction to the uptick in migrants from Central America. We tell ourselves the story that America is the land of opportunity, yet we have deep and persisting inequalities and injustices. What does our second principle say about how we as UUs should respond to them? 

I see the second principle as a clear extension of the first, our affirmation of the worth of dignity of every person. Denials of justice and equality are always built on denials of worth and dignity. The subordination of Native Americans, African Americans, Latinos, and other people of color has been built on and justified by the socially and politically constructed concept of race, and the accompanying ideas about worth, intelligence, beauty, and deservingness. Notions of race, patriotism, and national identity coalesce into anti-immigrant sentiment. Traditional beliefs about gender and sexuality, often rooted in religious teachings, limit the roles that women can occupy in society, and rationalize discrimination toward women and LGBT individuals alike. Race and gender are socially constructed categories – not fixed biological realities, but physical differences given social meaning and interpreted by a given society at a particular time. Because we live in a society in which we all come to accept these categories (and the accompanying expectations, norms, and stereotypes) at a young age, the resulting outcomes (and inequities) are largely seen as fair and inevitable. It is our task as people of faith to challenge these inequities. And I intentionally use the term “people of faith” here. It is a huge leap of faith to engage in this work. 

As the Rev. Fulbright of the UU Church of Roanoke says: “Striving for justice, equanimity, and compassion is the hardest work we will do in this lifetime, for to be committed to it means a searching and searing examination of ourselves, the institutions to which we belong, the economic and social structures in which we live, and the relationships we do and do not have.  It requires us to be consciously and carefully free of the tendency to point our fingers and say “They are the problem.”  There is no they.  We are they and we are the only ones who can stop the dog from barking, help all sentient beings enter nirvana, or bring about the Kingdom of God.  We must know where we benefit from power that is neither just nor equitable . . . If we use what  Rainier Marie Rilke called “soft eyes,” our “eyes of compassion,” we will grow close to one another.  If we are close to one another, we will have compassion for them.  Compassion means “to suffer with.” If we suffer with one another, then we want justice not just for ourselves and our family, but for all.”

How do we put the second principle into action? There are two ways I can see this happening. I like to think of them as the personal and the social. Or the micro and the macro. First, in our personal, everyday lives. The children’s version of the second principle is useful here: We believe that all people should be treated fairly and kindly. Or, let me personalize that a bit: we believe that we each should personally treat every person we come across kindly and fairly. Easy enough, right? I always treat everyone fairly and kindly. ;) In reality, though, I see this as a life-long goal. This is difficult. Perhaps it’s because we’re inherently selfish. Or because of psychological tendencies we have to distrust those who are different from us, particularly when they belong to “other” groups. Or perhaps it’s a way that we enhance and maintain our self-esteem. In everyday life, we experience frustration with others, we encounter people different from us, we’re tempted to stereotype, to blame, to assert power over others. Applying the second principle means we stop to place ourselves in others’ shoes, to recognize their worth and their dignity. It’s hard work, and it takes energy, and it can be uncomfortable. It’s to expand one’s definition of who is like me, who is worthy of my love and attention. 

Second, the social.  We work for social justice, for change. For a more equitable, just, and fair society. This is about realizing that we’re all connected. In his 1963 Letter from a Birmingham Jail, MLK Jr. wrote “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” My definition of justice – when things that shouldn’t matter for life opportunities don’t, and things that should matter do. And by life opportunities, I mean the chance to live a healthy life, live in a safe, desirable neighborhood, attend decent schools, including college, to marry who one wants to, and to live free from harassment, intimidation, and prejudice. Or from the Standing on the Side of Love website: “We are working to build a society where the color of our skin, the conditions of our birth, who we love, how we worship, and how we express our gender do not determine our worth, rights, and opportunities.”

But challenging injustice and inequality can feel overwhelming. I find myself increasingly discouraged about the prospects of confronting growing economic inequality, a broken immigration system, and persisting, seemingly intractable racial inequalities. The recent surge in migrants from Central America has brought out the best and worst in America it seems. I’m alternatively encouraged and horrified by the responses of lawmakers and regular citizens alike. 

But some things help me feel less discouraged. We stand on the shoulders of those who have come before us. For the last two centuries Unitarians and Universalists have been involved in movements to free the oppressed and work for social change. We’ve been on the forefront of religious support for LGBT rights. Many UUs were active in the civil rights movement.  Today, the UUA sponsors the Standing on the Side of Love campaign, aimed especially at seeking immigration justice, respect for religious diversity and freedom, and achieving greater rights for our LGBT brothers and sisters. I encourage you read about the campaign online and to ‘like’ it on Facebook. I’m proud that we participated in the vigil recently, and in the coming weeks we’ll be joining the Texas UU Justice Ministry, which will allow us to stay updated on the group’s efforts and how we can be involved. My point is that there’s no need to feel lonely in our justice work. We’re not alone. I think this where interfaith efforts are especially important.  

Earlier I read that great MLK Jr. quote about how we’re all connected and how injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. Isn’t that really just a statement of faith? That’s not something I can prove. It sure seems to be the case that many think they benefit from injustice. But I believe that we’d all be better off with less of it. That we’d all benefit from a society with less inequality and more fairness. There’s another quote that he’s famous for: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” A side note: Dr. King actually adapted this from a 1853 sermon by Unitarian and abolitionist minister Theodore Parker. It’s a powerful statement of progressive optimism – whether it means that the divine within us will eventually win out, or whether humans will eventually get their act together, or however you interpret it. As Theodore Parker said, the arc is a long one. I can’t make out the curve in my lifetime. But I have hope, I have faith, that it bends toward justice. So I choose to act as if it does.