From Your Associate Executive for Racial Justice
- Ruth-Aimée Belonni-Rosario
- 9 hours ago
- 7 min read
Justice. There’s no justice. Justice exists; it is palpable to those for whom the justice system was created. The system is in place, but it does not offer justice to all. It does not procure the well-being of all. It does not deliberate towards fairness. It is skewed towards those that the system exists to protect. If you ask descendants of slaves if there is justice, several will say no. If you ask the countless Black and Brown human beings incarcerated massively, disproportionately, and often wrongly, in one of the most profitable industries in this country, they will also respond that “there is no justice.” Often, the counter response from those who have the option to distance themselves from the reality of the effects of the system is, “But there’s progress, right? We have come so far, though. Leave it to God. God will intervene.”
Progress and theological buzzwords have been historically used and equated with justice. Patience has been hyperspiritualized to keep those most vulnerable from revolting, speaking up, and to keep them in submission and in a state of eternal gaze and hope. Hope has been sold as an achievable alternate reality. Simultaneously, systems and structures collude to keep sectors of the population from actualizing a hopeful reality. In a dialogue between President Snow and Seneca Crane, from the first movie of Hunger Games, President Snow teaches Seneca Crane about hope as an instrument of control and distraction. "Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective; a lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine as long as it’s contained” (The Hunger Games (2012) film, President Snow). A little hope is good to be given to the masses, but not too much, otherwise they might think they can accomplish things together.
In May, we celebrate Mother’s Day, women, generation of life, and co-creation of life. And in the past month we have heard and read several news reports of women, particularly black women, being unalived at the hands of their intimate partner. We still hear “not all men.” We still hear the cries of those deeply affected by these monstrosities. Yet, the men who commit these horrors are often “respectable men,” men who go to church, professors and presidents at colleges and universities, pastors, presidents of corporations, boards, and countries, distinguished politicians, judges, lawyers, doctors, nice men, well-intended professionals. Where is the justice?
I am tired. I am exhausted. Because of the color of my skin, my sex, my identified gender, my “accent”, my place of origin, my colonial background, and many other ascribed labels, the system doesn’t allow me to rest, to fully be, to thrive. Imagine how the millions of human beings in similar circumstances, facing worse circumstances than mine, who are even more tired, more exhausted, more hopeless, more distraught. They are everywhere, they are all around the world, and they are also sitting in our building pews, attending face to face and virtual bible studies, they are going out with you in coffee and dinner outings smiling, functioning in society and carrying a deep pain, managing their fear of being assaulted and unalive to keep everyone comfortable, to keep their children and loved ones safe, to keep their jobs, to keep their congregations cared for and attended.
Justice? Racial Justice. Hope? Is there? I am having more and more trouble accepting the language. If you have been at the very least exposed to the horrors we are witnessing in the world, the horrors our ancestors endured, and the ancestors who inflicted this evil upon the world, and the history and stories that have been deliberately erased, untold, and suppressed, you would find yourself in the same struggle journey, questioning, is there Justice? Racial Justice? Hope? I personally don’t know. I don’t strive for justice because, for me, justice is man-made by men for men and to support the construct of whiteness. And I want to believe that, as followers of the teachings of Christ as found in the gospels, and as Matthew 25 faith communities, we want to individually and collectively work towards acts of repair, care, comfort, consolation, advocacy, feeding, healing, listening, assistance, education, kindness, mercy, humility, and engagement.
How will we celebrate life this May? How will we celebrate women this month? How will we celebrate motherhood this month? Flowers are nice! Flowers are beautiful. I love flowers. To quote Miley Cyrus, “I can buy myself flowers.” As Matthew 25 communities, how are we tending those most vulnerable? There are still widows in our midst. And how about the millions of women who are in relationships, legal or otherwise, with abusers, fearing for their lives and the lives of their children. How do we tend to them? When was the last time we preached or heard a sermon about violence against women? Remember that violence is not only physical, it is also emotional, psychological, spiritual, and financial, among others. When was the last time you preached or heard about Judges 19, Numbers 27, Genesis 3, or that there are two creation stories, one that elevates one sector of humanity over the other and dubs it godly and divine? Isn’t it convenient that “Eve” is the temptress and cause for all sin to enter the world? Isn’t it interesting that the human being given the privilege to give life was the one cast as bringing sin into the world? I know these last sentences open up to major and deep theological conversations. We can have them.
These are questions that in light of definitions and constructs of justice where women and children are still among the poorest demographic in the world, when they are disproportionately abused and unalived by their intimate partners, when their testimonies are mocked, when their calls to law enforcement go unaddressed and filed away, when women’s bodies and decisions about their bodies become the focal point of discussion while the perpetrators go free, return to their jobs, issue public apologies and immediately celebrate them for their courageous act immediately forgetting the victim and doing nothing to comfort and care for the victims, there is definitely something sinister infiltrating our faith and values.
As faith communities, our own values and standards have been appropriated as buzzwords and to-do lists to continue to keep people oppressed, silenced, and submitted. Rev. Dr. Lis Valle-Ruiz, in her 4/23 Synod racial justice workshop “The Intersection of Art, Gender, and Justice,” taught us about what actions or inactions “break God’s heart.” (Watch the workshop here: "The Intersection of Gender, Art, and Justice" 4/23/26 Racial Justice Webinar with Lis Valle-Ruiz) In what ways are we breaking God’s heart when God’s creation cries out? In what ways are we then developing to bring a healthier environment and ecosystem? On the journey to restoring hope and justice in the eyes of all, these latest acts of violence are yet another call to us, the church, the faith community, to trouble the waters. The African American spiritual, “Wade in the Water,” comes to mind. I invite all of us to sing its chorus as we reflect on our actions and inactions, and as we seek God’s wisdom to restore the true meaning of divine hope, divine justice, and divine peace here on this planet.
“Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
God’s gonna trouble the water.”
Let us pray:
Divine being. Thank you for the gift of life. Thank you for the gift of our mothers and other women ancestors who passed life to us, and now we attempt to do so to our daughters and sons. Thank you! Forgive us for neglecting and stomping on your gift. Reveal to us our internalized false truths that protect unhealthy systems and structures. Create in us clean hearts, oh God. May we leave our wicked ways. May we seize the opportunity you give us each day to comfort, to listen, to believe, to love, to respect, and protect women and children, your creation. May we, as Mathew 25 faith communities, work continuously to bring about the peace and justice you offer. May we visit the sick? May we dismantle the systems and structures that perpetuate legal slavery, misogyny, enslavement, denial of access to medical care, and other societal ills. Help us, guide us to co-create, to imagine, and actualize an environment where interactions with you, nature, and one another are led by love, courage, kindness, respect, and generosity of your love and care for us. In your mercy, God, hear our prayers.
Eastertide blessings!
Ruth-Aimée (Root-Eh-méh)
Ruth-Aimée Belonni-Rosario
Associate Executive for Racial Justice
248-752-3697 (cell)
Where the Assoc. Exec. will be in May….
Synod of the Covenant Assembly, ZOOM – May 5
Miami Valley Presbytery Meeting, Bellbrook Presbyterian Church, Bellbrook, OH – May 12
Mackinac Presbytery Meeting, ZOOM – May 14
Scioto Valley Presbytery Meeting, Circleville Presbyterian Church, Circleville, OH – May 19
Synod EP Gathering – May 28-29
Racial Justice Speaking Series
We are happy to share that we launched the Racial Justice Speaking Series with Rev. Dr. Lis Valle-Ruiz on April 23. Dr. Valle-Ruiz taught us about the Intersection of Art, Gender, and Racial Justice. These will be opportunities to learn more about themes related to racial justice. These workshops, led by diverse scholars and practitioners, will allow us to learn, connect, and workshop leaders are as follows:
Thursday, June 11, 10:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m. – Effects of historic generational trauma because of systemic racism by Rev. Alexandra Zareth
Thursday, August 13, 10:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m. – SDOP (Self Development of People) and the intersection of Racial Justice by Rev. Alonzo Johnson
Thursday, October 1, 10:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m. – What Kind of Christianity? A History of Slavery and Anti-Black Racism in the Presbyterian Church, by Rev. Dr. William Yoo
We look forward to you joining us in this series. The first one was lively, rich, and we came out with concrete ideas on how to become more healthier and God-loving faith communities. Mark your calendars!
Comments