Thursday, May 26, 2016

Tweeting Dichotomy and Risk


Last night, I participated in the Twitter conversation (#ELCAWebcast) tied to the third ELCA webcast concerning racism within the denomination. I noticed something interesting concerning a couple of tweets.

I sent out a thought in two tweets.

The first tweet was: “What I wonder is what are we really willing to risk being a "welcoming" church?”


The second tweet was: “because [sp] Christians all over the world are risking life & limb to praise Christ.”

I noticed an interesting dichotomy taking place between these two tweets. The first shows that I can spell; the second shows that I cannot. But there were other things to notice... Maybe because with an electronic conversation in two parts, some are more apt to remember and see the first part of the conversation? Maybe I am making something out of nothing? Maybe I’m asking this particular series of questions because I myself cannot speak truth?

About the dichotomy between the tweets... The first tweet is a question. I’ve discovered that when tweeting a question to the Internet ether, it doesn’t necessitate a response. Maybe it’s a question that is merely “food for thought” on which to gnaw? Maybe it’s a question that no one wants to answer. It’s also a question, that at least in a general group discussion in the Internet, no one has to answer.

The second tweet is a statement. People around the world are not only risking their lives and limbs to raise their hands in worship to praise Christ, but they are dying.  They are risking the ultimate risk, putting their lives on the line, nailing their lives to the cross.

After a webcast, I find it frustrating that this is the level of risk offered. Some can tweet, "Great conversation!" I really have a hard time accepting that some felt that they had a difficult discussion on racism, good job, bravo! now back to our regularly scheduled programming is risk enough. When it comes to conversations about racism and identity, I don't get to change the channel. I don't get to turn off the television. If we are going to have honest conversations and take action about the racial makeup of our denomination (however awesome or flawed that may be), much more risk-taking needs to take place. 

I’ve been thinking about “welcoming,” intersectionality, and risk for awhile and in conversation with trusted friends and conversation partners. One of those beloved sisters is Alisha Gordon, who asked me, “What are you willing to give up for the liberty of all people?”

Damn. Damndamndamndamndamn. Nothing quite like a question that gets me to think... as a follower of the crucified and resurrected Christ, what would I myself be willing to risk?

Let me be entirely honest and transparent with you: I am struggling to answer that question. I am willing to risk things that personally, I deem to be big... but globally, people are risking far, far, far more.

But as a follower of Christ in the United States, do I really and truly understand the concept of risk? Do I really and truly understand what our forebearers of the faith in those early days risked to profess a crucified and risen God? In thinking about last night’s Twitter conversation and accompanying webcast, I think what I really want to ask is: what are members of the ELCA willing to risk to truly be a welcoming church? Maybe a greater yearning is to search for an answer...

What are you willing to risk as a follower of the crucified and risen Christ to truly be welcoming of Christ’s church? If the ELCA is to truly take heed, much risk-taking must take place. But what risks? What must we do, risk, and give up to #decolonizeLutheranism?

Feeling uncomfortable in an awkward conversation?

Having someone being mad at you and having a fractured relationship?

Your status? Your title? Your identity?

Your life?

1 comment:

Trudy Franzen said...

I give up the desire to always be right. And the fear of offending someone. And I am willing to risk saying something totally stupid when I mean to say something helpful and profound. I risk listening more than I speak. I risk my tears and sounding totally strained when I try to talk about injustices that keep happening that make me feel so frustrated. I risk expressing my anger at seeing the "Fund for Leaders" photo with so few people of color and yelling "you're so excited about the future of the Church?!" I risk feeling angry instead of cynical and apathetic. I risk the choice to try to be on the side of love, even when I am worried that my own biases might cloud my judgment. I risk trying to be a gracious and thoughtful ally, even though I will probably step in it in the process.