By Kong Mong Yang
"I
'm going!" I said to my wife as I saw a tweet about the possibility of a rally coming to my state. I couldn't drive my family to Chicago, which was the closest confirmed state at the time. It just wasn't feasible. I saw city after city commit to being a base for this important conversation and I was envious that I couldn't be there in person. I figured the next best thing was to attend the virtual rally. Even though Zoom fatigue is real, thank goodness for technology.
Then, within a few hours, another tweet came that said Minneapolis was a confirmed rally site. I was ecstatic! I quickly posted on Facebook for those who wanted to join in to show up. You see, the reason for my joy (I'm not sure of another way to express this, as the reasons for this whole ordeal is rather heartbreaking) that a rally would be happening in Minnesota was because my Christian circle has been absolutely mute. Sadly, they've been mute about the various events prior to the Atlanta shooting. This silence, as I've grown to know unfortunately, consistently evades the hard questions about the relationship between the church and the world, minimizes the hurt and pain of those suffering, and ignores the church's role to be a light in a world full of darkness. This is where I sat. The silence grew and ate away at me. This is the context for why I'm able to call the Stand for AAPI Lives Rally “joyous.” Finally, I can see with my own eyes and hear with my ears Christian sisters and brothers that would speak up and speak boldly.
As the rally began, I looked around to see many allies. The cold wind kept us all bundled up and our masks obscured our faces, but these were allies through and through. I wish to have recorded all of the rally, but in that moment, I felt the place was sacred. I managed to take one lousy picture so as to timestamp my place in history. But, my resolve was to soak it all in and that I did. Leader after leader spoke about the injustices against AAPI lives. Osheta Moore’s speech hit me the most in the midst of the many powerful words spoken. She recalled that during her time of sorrow and hurt, she had Asian allies who stood beside her. George Floyd’s death was a breaking point for many, but those hurt the most were the Black community. She noted that her friend, Der Lor, would stand and take heat for simply being an ally. She stated that she would, in turn, be an ally for AAPI because people, like Der, stood up for her and her community. This was a true resolve to unite against the powers that divide us, not a simple transaction of goodwill. Dismantling these powers requires us to be allies. In fact, I’d like to believe that it requires us to be sisters and brothers.
When I reflect on this powerful illustration of allyship, I think of the church. Church people are to be people who stand with the poor, the broken, the ill-forgotten, and the outcasts. Church people are to stand for justice, for peacemaking, for a love that casts out fear and hate. Church people are to be the ultimate ally. I’m glad for the organizations and the churches that shouted, from all over the country, that AAPI hate is sinful and detestable. They model for us what caring for the hurt and downtrodden mean — to be the voice for those who are unable to speak.
I left the rally wondering, what will happen next? I went home feeling affirmation and pride, but also felt a glaring sense of disappointment. A few days after the Atlanta shooting, there was a Twitter poll conducted by Timothy Isaiah Cho that asked, “Today did your church mention anti-Asian racism and the Atlanta shooting?” 371 people responded and 53.9% responded “No.” In a similar Twitter poll by Raymond Chang, one that had 492 respondents, 45.9% reported “No” to addressing anti-Asian hate during church service that weekend. By no means are these scientific polls, but the point is rather clear. This disappointment that I noted earlier is front and center to many within the church. My church also falls into this category of “No.” No to discussions about George Floyd and the roles of race; No to discussions about anti-Asian hate crimes; No to the discussion about the church’s role in all of this. The church isn’t explicitly saying “No,” but the silence is a loud and clear “No.” Disappointment has led me to frustration.
If the church is to be the great ally of the oppressed, the church must call out against the injustices happening outside her doors. The church is supposed to be the overflow and abundance of justice, love, and mercy. These are not to be hoarded. The outpouring of goodness should invade the streets of the city. But it’s hard for this outpouring to occur when the church denies, with it’s silence, that life simply goes on or that nothing is to be said about the egregious acts of violence toward our sisters and brothers. Yes, silence is indeed a virtue. This is especially true of Asian cultures. What these rallies prove, however, is that silence is not always golden. No, silence in a time such as this, reveals the church’s lack of courage and conviction. Now is not a time for silence. Now is not the time for the church to be “too heavenly minded, and no earthly good.” The church is on full display for the world to see.
What the rallies across the States revealed to me is that the church, when united, can create change. I saw some amazing local churches creating inroads for a gospel message that not only worries about where one goes when one dies, but worries about how one is to be treated today, and tomorrow, and the days to come. I’m hoping not only for a “movement,” but a real reckoning on what the church is to be. When the church becomes what it was always meant to be — a glimpse of the coming kingdom, the abundance of justice, love, mercy, and peace — the world will be drawn to change. I’m hopeful that we’re drawing ever closer to that image because of the work of the Spirit. I’m also hopeful that my zeal to go to rallies will cease and in turn will become a zeal to attend church. “I’m going!” perhaps, is what I should be saying about attending church. Until then, it seems we still have much work to do.
Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash
Kong Mong is the Web Services Coordinator at the Berntsen Library at the University of Northwestern St. Paul. He graduated from Bethel University with a BA in Biblical and Theological Studies. He lives in MN with his wife and four children.