Pandemic, protests, pain: People of privilege must unite for peace, dignity for all

Ever look back on something you have said or done and realized how inadequate — or wrong, or even harmful — it was? I am suffering from that right now.

In the last Statesman column I wrote, back in late April, I addressed the good I hoped could come from the pandemic. I acknowledged a little of the “bad,” but I mostly affirmed the spiritual growth that might emerge as a result of having our lives turned upside down. I hoped for “radical good”: increased kindness, spiritual connection, the humility and generosity that can come from self-insight. I still hope for all of these things.

But my words and thoughts were terribly inadequate to speak of our current times. They were inadequate because I was unconsciously speaking from the position I hold as a middle-class, educated, comfortable white person.

Now, as our country writhes and burns with yet another fatal injustice, I am brought again to realize how easy it is to ignore the suffering of the poor and oppressed, because I am a person of privilege.

We of my Unitarian Universalist faith affirm the holy in all people. We stand proud for justice, equity and compassion. We know that to be connected with God is to be connected with each other. All of us.

“All” means black, brown, white and everyone. It means poor people and people of means. It means those who cannot work from home and those who have the luxury of doing so. It means people who have no choice but to live packed together and people who have thousands of square feet to spare.

It means families for whom a missed paycheck is occasion for panic and families who have enough reserves for a few months. It means people who must endure the daily possibility of being brutally killed on the street and people who saunter in the confidence of safety. It means people for whom a life of dignity is a constant struggle and those who take it for granted.

It means “all,” and it means that we of privilege are part of a system we must work to dismantle.

I don’t have a solution for the terrible, terrible mess our country is in. But I can say I am sorry for the times I have unthinkingly spoken as though everyone has the opportunity, as I do, to focus on spiritual insight and humility. I can acknowledge, in sorrow and frustration, that vast numbers of Americans must continue the centuries-old struggle for a life with safety and security in it.

I can educate myself, over and over. I can work with people and groups to set aside some of the privilege we enjoy, that others may live in dignity and peace.

May it be so. Please, may it be so.