Blog Posts

Conversation with Jonathan P. Walton

6/4/2019

Jonathan P. Walton is an area ministry director for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship‘s New York/New Jersey region. He previously served for ten years as director of the New York City Urban Project. He writes regularly for Huffington Post, medium.com, and is the author of three books of poetry and short stories.

Jonathan talks to Michael Cheuk about his book, Twelve Lies That Hold America Captive: And the Truth That Sets Us Free.

Additional resources recommended by Jonathan:

2030 Calling: Here is a vision video of what we're hoping to do by 2030.
Emotionally Healthy Activist: I would LOVE for a group of folks in Charlottesville to do the pilot of our emotionally healthy activist course. Total it will be 8 sessions.
Podcasts: you can search for IVED on i-Tunes and check out our podcasts or click here.

Originally published (with transcript) at
http://michaelkcheuk.com/conversation-with-jonathan-walton/

My Experience Fuels My Fight for Racial Justice

5/29/2019

"The constant subtle mistreatment has been a catalyst for me. It has given me the determination to stand firm and endure hardness," states Apostle Sarah Kelley, Pastor of Faith, Hope and Love International Healing and Deliverance Center at our "Conversations for Reconciliation" gathering, May 23, 2019.

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.” Psalm 19:14

Good evening, again my name is Sarah Kelley. I have been the Pastor of Faith, Hope and Love In’tl Healing and Deliverance Center for almost 35 years and have been in the Ministry for Forty years. I am the wife of Raleigh C. Kelley Jr. in which we celebrated our both Anniversary on May 8th. We were blessed with a son and a daughter, the son has gone on to be with the Lord, three grandsons and 12 great grandchildren.

Quite naturally I cannot tell my whole life story. So I shall share portions.

I was born in Charlottesville Va. 78 years ago and have lived here most of my life. From the age of two, I was raised by my Great Grandmother, whose parents had been slaves. Quite naturally her upbringing caused her to have a slave mentality which has passed down through our generations.

She cooked three meals a day, seven days a week, for many years at the Dolly Madison Inn, which no longer exist. Plus, she took in Washing and Ironing, which at that time was without a washing machine, but a tub and scrub board, and no electric iron.

After observing her hard and unappreciated work, I promised myself that I would never, ever, be subject to that abuse.

My first memorable experience with injustice, (one of many), was at the drinking fountains at the Trailway Bus station here in Charlottesville. I was five years old. My great grandmother and I were headed to Atlanta City for a short summer vacation.

At that particular time in my life, the water fountains were separated by race. As a child, I did not understand differences. I saw the sign over a small, filthy looking water fountain that said “Colored Only” and a sign over a large, clean, luxurious water fountain that said “White Only”, but as a child I thought it meant the water was white and the other was colored.

Even though the Colored people's fountain was dirty, I took a few sips of the warm, almost hot, water because I wanted to taste "colored water”. Afterwards, I stood on my tiptoes at the shiny clean fountain and proceeded to drink the cool, tasty water. The next thing I knew, I was being yanked and spanked by my great grandmother and being cursed at yelled at by the ticket agent, bellowing “Get Out” of the bus station. Sadly, I did not know why my great grand had spanked me, neither did I know why the ticket agent was so angry.

I had innocently tried both water fountains because I wanted to taste and see the kind of water that was “color” and water that was "white”. Quite naturally they tasted different, but they looked the same. It never changed colors. I did not know, nor did I understand racism.
While having to wait in the sun outside the bus station, my grandmother told me why she had spanked me. I felt totally angry, as well as, puzzled, to why I was not good enough to drink from the beautiful fountain. I believe that is why I don't drink much water today, white or colored water.

The one thing that she made sure of, because she could not read or write, was that I would learn to read and write. She had me tutored at the age of three. I started in the first grade at five years old and finished twelfth grade at the age of 16.

During the years of Massive Resistance, here in Charlottesville, my granny sent me to live with my mother in Washington D. C. because she did not want my education interrupted. Although, I still ended up in an All White School, the experience was milder than what was going on in Charlottesville, Va.

At the age of eighteen, my husband and I got married at my Father-In-Laws home that was on Irving St., here in Charlottesville, in the Vinegar Hill area, where Urban Renewal was enforced.

He owned a beautiful five bedroom home, in which he built, but it was torn down along with other black homes and businesses due to the supposingly, Urban Renewal. It displaced many black people. I was so distressed about my father-in-law's injustice, because he did not receive a fair price for his lovely home.

It was my desire, at the age of 18, to be a Registered Nurse, but UVA in the late 50's, was not receiving blacks in the Nursing program. In the late 50's, they did open the door for black LPN's, who worked in a less appreciated positions. I finally entered the UVA LPN training program in the early 60's. Thanks be to God, that at the beginning of this year, 2019, UVA recognized the Black LPN's and made us Alumni members and UVA also recognized me, as the First African American to complete the Chaplaincy program.

In many situations, I have either been the First Female, the First African American or the First Female and African American.

The constant subtle mistreatment has been a catalyst for me. It has given me the determination to stand firm and endure hardness.

I just have to mention that my heart is broken and continues to break for my husband, who from an early age wanted to be a fireman. He served in the Air Force as a fireman. But when he was discharged from the Military, with hopes of pursuing this career, his color kept him from being hired. Blacks were not being employed as firemen at that time. That rejection crushed him, but it made me even the more determined to stand for justice and equality for all.

I have vowed that the slave mentality that had been planted in my forefathers mind was not going to rule my life. That mentality of discounting self and one another, was one that also persuaded the African American people to not trust one another, therefore pitting one against another. The remnants of that mentality still exist today, causing us, as black people, to not freely support, and build up one another. It has also caused us, at times, to even hinder, rather than help each other to progress.

Quite naturally, over the years, I have seen and experience injustice at the public libraries, swimming pools, cemeteries, on buses, streetcars, trains, elevators, in theaters, waiting areas, restrooms, schools, housing and sadly, even in Churches,

It has caused me to look at what is wrong and try to figure out what I can do to make it right.

"Speak up for the people who have no voice, for the rights of all the down-and-outers. Speak out for justice. Stand up for the poor and destitute”. Proverbs 31:9 Messenger.

“Little children, let us not love in word or talk, but in deed and in truth”. 1 John 3:18 ESV

~ Apostle Sarah Kelley

Why I Showed Up

5/29/2019

"I must claim my own culpability in benefitting without protest from an unjust history that continues to abide in the present moment," says Rev. Liz Hulme Adam, Pastor of Tabor Presbyterian Church, at our "Conversations toward Reconciliation" gathering, May 23, 2019.

In one episode of the Brady Bunch, Marcia Brady can only get through her speech to an auditorium of people when she imagines them all in their underwear. I thought that might be a good idea for me tonight. To get through this. The second-to-last thing I want to be doing is speaking to you. The last thing would be standing in front of you in my underwear, which is a bit what this seems like to me.

There are many ways to tell one’s story, and what we leave out can be as important as what we include. One way I could tell my story is to see life as a series of denial boxes, and the chapters would describe opening those boxes; until, when I’m dying, I can say I’ve opened all the denial boxes.

My husband moved twice for me, then we moved twice for him, landing in Virginia fourteen years ago. I remembering thinking, that’s THE SOUTH, like it was another planet altogether. I hadn’t spent time in the south. I forged my identity as more of a northerner — MD, DC, Rhode Island, Cape Cod in the summer. It wasn’t until August 12 of 2017 here that I remembered a part of my past I had forgotten. When I returned home from that day in Charlottesville, my husband wanted to know why I was adamant about going. I ended up writing an essay of sorts, to myself, really. This is what I wrote. I called it Why I Showed Up.

In my blood runs the complexity common among many Americans. I come by way of Italian, German, English and Irish immigrants. There’s some French mingled in, too. [I recently heard a story from my mom’s mom, Italian Catholic, about living in DC as a little girl and the KKK had a cross-burning rally at night; she said she was worried her family could be next. My dad’s people were a lot of Irish Catholics, making their way, too, with little means. My maternal grandfather was the WASP of the family, Protestant and proper in every way.] My kids are half Turkish; their paternal grandparents came to the United States in the late 60s.

One day during my adolescence I asked my grandfather questions about our ancestry. He brought me a scroll-like document and unrolled it. It belonged to one of our ancestors from Maryland. More precisely, the document called itself Joseph Harding’s “Inventory of Goods and Chattele,” dated 1779. It listed “Goods” such as: a dutch oven, rifles, blankets, and livestock, with detailed descriptions of each item written in hard-to-read cursive. Then, my unsuspecting eyes moved to the bottom of the last page to find the names of people, with significantly less description.

1 Negro Man, Anthony, 28 years old
1 Ditto, Man, Walter, 20 years old
1 Ditto, Lad, Bennet, 15 years old
1 Ditto Wench, Suk, 25 years old
1 Ditto Boy, Charles, 6 years old
1 Ditto Boy, Harry, 4 years old
1 Mulato Boy, 9 years old
1 Negro Wench, 60 years old

The list resumes with a few more items, presumably the goods used by those listed.

On the far right side of the document, beside every inventoried entry, was a value.

The value beside Anthony was 45. The value beside Walter was 50. The value beside Bennet was 45. The value beside Suk was 40. The value beside Charles was 25. The value beside Harry was 18. The value beside the unnamed “Mulato boy” was 15. The value beside the unnamed 60 year-old woman was 3.

Disoriented and incredulous about what I was reading, I looked up the page to decipher hard-to-read script. I could make out the description of a horse, valued at 37.

I attended the inter-faith worship service at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Charlottesville on the evening of Friday, August 11, 2017. People gathered in light and love to celebrate what unites and binds us as Americans. A pastor friend leaned over to me near the end of the service to show me her phone - she got word that over 200 people were outside the church with torches. Soon after the benediction we were told to stay put; the church was in lock-down.

On Saturday when taking to the streets arm-in-arm with friends and strangers, singing “This Little Light of Mine,” and “We Shall Overcome,” I wasn’t there only as a clergywoman. I showed up because I am responsible as a human being for correcting what’s wrong; I am responsible for reclaiming space contaminated by hate and beliefs that harm. Mine was also a presence of penance, for that which I’ve inherited and still struggle to face.
[That] Saturday in Charlottesville I witnessed viciousness in the eyes of my fellow Americans — hate in aggregate, armed. I saw Americans outfitted as militia, with armor meant for war. I saw women bloodied by men who threw them to the ground and bashed their heads into pavement.

And I must claim my own culpability in benefitting without protest from an unjust history that continues to abide in the present moment. We are trying to form a more perfect union as Americans. We do so by remembering our past without whitewashed nostalgia. I am remembering Anthony, Walter, Bennet, Suk, Charles, Harry, a “Mulato boy” and a 60 year-old woman who didn’t get named in an “Inventory.” I marched and sang and showed up for them, and those they loved, and their stories that didn’t get recorded. It’s the least I could do.

As a Christian, I also showed up for Jews. Jews taught me about Tikkun Olam — world repair. We are to repair the world. We participate in Tikkun Olam through acts of kindness, and by protecting those at a disadvantage. Too many of my Christian predecessors failed our Jewish brothers and sisters throughout history. Hurt them, killed them. Then, we used our sacred texts to justify or ignore the Holocaust. I am responsible as a pastor to say so.

When I look back at the past I wonder how I would have responded in times that called for risky intervention, for the defense of those who needed defending. Would I have defended the Armenian, would I have protected the Gypsy, would I have stood up for the Jews? Our current climate gives us a chance to test the question, “How would I have responded?”

It is our time to respond.

~ Rev. Liz Hulme Adam

Learning about Racial Justice as a Racial Minority

5/29/2019

"Even as a 12-year-old, first-generation immigrant, I was already fully conditioned by whiteness," says Rev. Michael Cheuk of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective at our "Conversations for Reconciliation" gathering, May 23, 2019.

I was born in Hong Kong, and my family moved to US in 1973 in anticipation of Hong Kong reverting back to the Republic of China in 1997. In my desire to assimilate, I neglected my own language and culture in order to be accepted in white society. I still remember being taunted in elementary school…”Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees, look at these...”

In Shreveport, we lived in a declining middle-class, integrated neighborhood...my parents sold their house in that neighborhood in 2001 for $10,000. We never had any problems with our black neighbors. Yet, one summer evening, we heard a knock on our front door, a black man whose had broken down and just needed a phone to call for help. Yet we pretended we weren’t home...and waited quietly until he left for another house.

Looking back, it is so clear to me that even as a 12-year-old, first-generation immigrant, I was already fully conditioned by whiteness, sharing the same thought patterns of fear and distrust of black men who were literally our neighbors. I might not have hateful thoughts toward blacks, but I harbored implicit bias against people of color. Years afterwards, I wrote a devotion on the Parable of the Good Samaritan, comparing my family to the Levites and the Priests, who encountered a neighbor in need and intentionally ignored him, and walked on our way on the other side of the road.

Growing up, I willingly allowed the white culture to mold me into its preferred image of the model Asian immigrant...smart, hardworking, always smiling, and not making waves. When you hear me speak, you probably won’t hear a Chinese accent, and that confuses people sometimes. When I told an acquaintance that I grew up in Shreveport, Louisiana, his eyes lit up with recognition and said: “Oh, so you’re Cajun!”

I am not a Cajun...but am I an Asian? It was in college that I first encountered big groups of Chinese peers. They invited me to their clubs, but I didn’t join. I identified more with whites.

Looking back, I have benefited by assimilating into white culture. I have a BA from Rice University, a Masters of Divinity from Southwestern Seminary, and a doctorate from UVA. I haven’t been discriminated from housing or jobs. I distinctly remember asking the Farmville Baptist search committee whether they thought it would be a problem for them to call a Chinese pastor. They assured me it wouldn’t be a problem, and for the most part, they were right. However, I do remember a church member telling me that he had a hard time understanding my sermons because of my Chinese accent. So I guess there’s always one in every crowd! :)

Farmville is the seat of Prince Edward County, the county that closed its public schools for five years (1959-1964) and diverted tax money to establish a white academy. Some Farmville Baptist members supported that move. Another church member serving on city council opposed it, and he paid a big social price. Later, the church erected an informal policy of not allowing blacks to be on the property. And in 1969, it led to the arrest of Civil Right protesters, including the Rev. J. Samuel Williams Jr., an activist and pastor of Levi Baptist Church in Farmville. In my time in Farmville, I befriended Rev. Williams and offered a public apology to him at a Symposium on the Prince Edward School Closing. I was able to do that and not get fired because I had several church members who had my back. Even so, I did not have the courage to lead Farmville Baptist to officially examine our own history, to have congregational conversations around our racist policies, and to reveal stories that we had spent decades hiding and denying from our communities and from ourselves.

During my time at Farmville Baptist, the church partnered with several black churches in town for meals, for pulpit exchanges, for Easter services, and even joint Vacation Bible Schools. We were anxious to show the community just how much we’ve changed. We told people how we now had a black couple as members, how we now welcomed black people into our space, to eat our food, to sing our hymns, and to read our liturgies. We were happy that these exchanges took place at Farmville Baptist. But if we’re honest with ourselves, we should have also admitted that we were much less open to attend events at black churches as guests. My members told me that black worship services were too long, too loud, too different than what we were used to. But at least we could tell ourselves that we’re welcoming, that we have black friends, that we weren’t racist. And yet, I’m deeply grateful for the members of Farmville Baptist for helping me learn and grow as a pastor -- not only in my church, but also in my community. And I know they -- like me -- have continued their journey of growth.

It was only after coming back to Charlottesville, that I began to learn that undoing racism it’s not just about being nice to one another. It is also about dismantling the racial power dynamics in our systems, institutions and culture that privilege white people.

Through conversations with other faith leaders within the Clergy Collective, I’m learning that “church integration” isn’t the goal of our work. We can have congregations “integrated” with diverse races, but once worshippers leave our buildings, black people still experience the disparities of worse education and health outcomes, of lower employment rates and salary incomes, of higher rates of arrests and incarceration. In fact, in our dangerous and oppressive white supremacist society, black churches may be the only place where black people feel safe to cry out their sorrow, to sing their joy, to dance with the movement of the Spirit, to be free from the shackles of an European understanding of time or propriety. It is with this understanding that I say, “Thank God more white people aren’t worshipping in black churches. Because if we did, we might very well ruin a good thing for black people!” Sunday mornings will remain the most segregated hour of the week as long as our society is unjust and oppressive for blacks and people of color.

Having said that, during these past years, my wife and I have had the privilege of worshipping in black churches, of going into their space, eating their food, singing their songs and NOT reading any liturgies! We have been welcomed with open arms and with gracious hospitality. I’m learning that instead of asking black people to come to our churches, or even to events like this so that they can “teach” or “perform” for us, we should, with their invitation, simply show up humbly to their places, where they have the power, where they have control of whether or not they want to speak about their experiences. In the meantime, we have the responsibility for teaching ourselves about the “black experience,” learning about our own racial history through books, internet resources, podcasts, workshops, and so much more. Black people are NOT at our beck and call to teach us about what we could and should learn for ourselves.

And I still have so much to learn, so much to grow. I’m grateful for the patience and good humor of my black brothers and sisters who have allowed me to show up again and again in their lives to experience their strength, their wisdom, their resourcefulness and their resiliency. My journey of learning and growing is not over, and I'm grateful for the company of any other pilgrims along this path.

Thank you for listening to my story.

~ Rev. Michael Cheuk

Conversations toward Reconciliation - Part 2

5/27/2019

On Thursday, May 23, 2019, the Charlottesville Clergy Collective organized the second "Conversations toward Reconciliation" dinner gathering at Carver Recreation Center. Over 175 people representing 26 faith communities attended the gathering.

The Rev. Alvin Edwards, Pastor of Mt. Zion First African Baptist and President of the Collective, offered a welcome and a prayer.

Rev. Maren Hange, Pastor of Charlottesville Mennonite Church, served as our Master of Ceremonies.

During the meal, participants were invited to share their answers to these ice-breaker question:

Identify 5 items that all people at your table have in common that do not have to do with physical appearance.
Write down the one most interesting item.

After the meal the following speakers gave personal testimonies about their experience with race and racism...

Rev. Michael Cheuk, Secretary of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective, talked about "Learning about Racial Justice as a Racial Minority" (video and transcript).

Rev. Liz Hulme Adam, Pastor of Tabor Presbyterian Church, Crozet, talks about "Why I Showed Up" (video and transcript).

Apostle Sarah Kelley, Pastor of Faith, Hope and Love International Healing and Deliverance Center, shares how "My Experience Fuels My Fight for Racial Justice" (video and transcript).

Afterwards, participants around each table were invited to reflect and share their thoughts to these questions:

1. Knowing we all had different experiences and perspectives, what spoke to you and what surprised or challenged you in the stories you just heard?
2. Given Charlottesville's racial past and present, what does repair mean to you? What does it look like?
3. Are there any questions that you are grappling with that you'd like to share with the table?

Participants were also given a handout of Local Resources that congregations can access to further explore race.

Finally, Rabbi Tom Gutherz of Congregation Beth Israel led us in a closing song:

Olam Chesed Yibaneh
Olam Chesed Yibaneh (4x)
I will build this world from love
And you will build this world from love
And if we build this world from love
Then God will build this world from love.

Gratitudes:

Rev. Maren Hange and Rev. Liz Hulme Adam, Co-Chairs of Planning Committee.
Apostle Sarah Kelley, Cheraga Rabia Povich, Rev. Carol Sims, Rev. Albert Connette, Rev. Brenda Brown-Grooms, Rev. Elizabeth Emrey, Elizabeth Shillue, Rabbi Tom Gutherz, Rev. Lehman Bates, and Rev. Michael Cheuk, Members of Planning Committee.
Members of Faith, Hope and Love who served the registration table.
Delicious food catered by Kim Swift of Ebenezer Baptist Church.
The youth from Christ Church, Olivet Presbyterian and Tabor Presbyterian who served at the food line, and to Courtenay Evans of Christ Church for coordinating their service.
Those who served as facilitators for our table conversations.
Cheraga Rabia Povich, for compiling the handout of local resources.
Thea Cheuk, for taking video and photos.
The staff at Carver Recreation Center for allowing us to come and helping us to set up their space.
Charlene Green of the Charlottesville Office of Human Rights for her facilitator training and on-going consultation and support.
For all the faith leaders who invited members of their congregations to attend the gathering, and for their courage and work to support further conversations and education about race in the coming weeks and months.

Congregations Represented:

Baha'i Faith Community of Charlottesville
Catalyst
Charlottesville Friends Meeting
Charlottesville Mennonite
Christ Episcopal Church
Congregation Beth Israel
Ebenezer Baptist Church
Faith, Hope and Love Church
First United Methodist Church
Grace Church, Red Hill
Insight Meditation Community, Charlottesville
Inayati Sufi Order, Charlottesville
Lutheran Church (ELCA)
Mt. Zion First African Baptist Church
New Beginnings Christian Community
Olivet Presbyterian Church
P'nai Yisrael
Sojourners United Church of Christ
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Tabor Presbyterian Church
Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church - Unitarian Universalist
Trinity Episcopal Church
Unity of Charlottesville
University Baptist Church
Westminster Presbyterian Church
Zion Hill Baptist Church

Pictures below courtesy of Thea Cheuk.

Conversation with Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

5/23/2019

Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove is a speaker, spiritual writer, who, along with his wife Leah, founded Rutba House a house of hospitality where the formerly homeless share community with the formerly housed. He has also worked with the Rev. William Barber on the Poor People’s Campaign. Rev. Wilson-Hartgrove talks to Michael about his 2018 book Reconstructing the Gospel: Finding Freedom from Slaveholder Religion.

Originally published (with transcript) at
http://michaelkcheuk.com/conversation-with-jonathan-wilson-hartgrove/.

Statement on Charlottesville High School Threat

3/29/2019

Last week, Charlottesville High School responded to a hate-filled online post that threatened a shooting and “ethnic cleansing” against black and Hispanic students at the school. We, the members of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective, decry this act of hate that terrorized the school district’s students, teachers, staff and families, and closed city schools for two days.

We are grateful for the work of the law enforcement community in apprehending the teen suspect from Albemarle county, ending a period of fear and allowing students to return to school. And, we are grateful for the work of Charlottesville City Schools in prioritizing the protection of students and staff during those uncertain days.

We resonate with Charlottesville City Police Chief RaShall Brackney when she said: “We want the community and the world to know that hate is not welcomed in Charlottesville.”

We also echo the sentiment of Charlottesville City School Superintendent Dr. Rosa Atkins: “We do not tolerate hate or racism. … [We] stand in solidarity with our students of color ... [A] threat against one is a threat against all.”

In addition, we commend the establishment of a Police Civilian Review Board to address systemic injustice and to promote accountability and mutual trust between the community and the police. We are also heartened by Charlottesville City Schools’ outreach to neighborhoods and houses of worship to address racial inequity in public education.

We, the undersigned members of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective, commit ourselves to work for racial equity and to pray for all who were affected by this incident and worked for its resolution, especially the African American and Latinx students who were specifically singled out as targets. As a community of faith leaders, we are committed to standing as witnesses for love, justice, and unity. We will continue to work for an end to racial hate and violence.

Signed,

Rev. Will Brown, University Baptist Church
The Rev Dr Harry Kennon
Rabbi Rachel Schmelkin, Congregation Beth Israel
Steve Johnson, Oak Chapel Baptist Church
Pastor Sarah A. Kelley, Faith, Hope And Love Church
Rev. Dr. Elizabeth Emrey, New Beginnings Christian Community
Rev. Dr. Albert Connette, Olivet Presbyterian Church
Rev. Rabia Povich, Inayati Sufi Order, Charlottesville
Rev. Liz Hulme Adam, Tabor Presbyterian Church
Rev. Dr. Jill Duffield, Cove Presbyterian Church
Manouchehr Mohajeri, Baha'i Faith
Rev. Sandra J. Wisco, Lutheran (ELCA)
Rev. Dr. Michael Cheuk

Statement in Response to the Mosque Shootings in Christchurch, New Zealand - March 15, 2019

3/20/2019

Photo credit: https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-47583215

Religious hate has no place in the United States, New Zealand or elsewhere. We stand in solidarity with the Muslim communities that experienced the traumatic shooting caused by hate, and we uphold the value that all people have the right to participate in the religion (or no religion) of their choice.

Members of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective know first-hand the impact white-supremacist hate can have on a community. As interfaith leaders, we pray for the healing of the Muslim communities in Christchurch, New Zealand. We mourn your loss. We extend our sympathy to the family members and friends whose beloved ones’ lives were cut short in this tragic shooting. We call for a renewed commitment to mutual respect and understanding, that all may learn to honor the diversity of creation, the diverse expressions of devotion, and the sacredness of human life.

We, the undersigned members of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective, affirm our calling to bring attention to, and address issues of racial, religious, and social justice. As a community of faith leaders we are committed to standing as witnesses for love, justice, and unity. We will continue to pray and work for an end to this senseless hate and violence.

Signed,

Rev. Dr. Eugene T. Locke, Parish Associate, Westminster Presbyterian Church
Rev. Robert Lewis, Hinton Avenue United Methodist Church
Rev. Liz Hulme Adam, Tabor Presbyterian Church
Rev. Sandra J. Wisco, Lutheran (ELCA)
Pastor Sarah A. Kelley, Faith, Hope and Love Church
Gail Hyder Wiley, elder, Westminster Presbyterian Church
Manouchehr Mohajer, Baha'i Faith
Harry Kennon, First United Methodist Church
Dr. Elizabeth Emrey, New Beginnings Christian Community
Rev. Erik Walker Wikstrom, Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Charlottesville
Rev. Dr. Alvin Edwards
Rev. Don Lansky & Rev. Patricia Gulino Lansky, Unity of Charlottesville
Rev. Dr. Jill Duffield, Cove Presbyterian Church
Rev. Marilu Thomas, Assoc. Rector Christ Episcopal Church
Adam Slate, President, Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church-Unitarian Universalist
Rev. Dr. David K. Garth, Westminster Presbyterian
Rev. Mildred Best, Mount Zion First African Baptist Church
Rev. Will Brown, University Baptist Church
Rev. Maren Hange, Charlottesville Mennonite Church
Rev. Rabia Povich, Charlottesville Inayati Sufi Order
Susan Kaufman, Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville
Ann Marie Smith, Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville
Rev. Dr. Jim Bundy retired clergy, United Church of Christ
Sharon Beckman-Brindley, Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville
Rev. Dr. Michael Cheuk, Charlottesville Clergy Collective
Gayle Jessup White
Rev. Nick Deere, Broadus Memorial Baptist Church
Rabbi Emeritus Daniel Alexander, Congregation Beth Israel
Rev. Carol Sims, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church

Statement Concerning VA Government Executives

2/21/2019

In light of the information coming from the Virginia statehouse that has now touched and tainted the elected executive offices of the Governor, Lt. Governor, and the Attorney General, we deplore the blatantly racist acts that are depicted in yearbook pictures and other previous covert or unknown acts of bigotry. We also condemn sexual assault. These all play a part in fostering and upholding a political system that is oppressive, dysfunctional, and problematic. In a time when people are desperately yearning for positive moral leadership, we find these abuses of power to be both reprehensible and indefensible.

As a community of faith leaders who are committed to standing as witnesses for love, justice and unity, we continue to pray for the victims of white supremacy and sexual assault. We pray for their friends, their families, and for an end to these acts of violence and displays of bigotry. We pray for the Governor, Lt. Governor, and the Attorney General, and we also pray that they will work to create the space that is necessary for healing, learning, and growth.

We, the undersigned members of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective, affirm our calling to bring attention to, and address issues of, racial and social justice within our community. We strive to support marginalized and historically underserved populations, and partner with other leaders in and around our community. We also denounce any and all forms of racism, discrimination, bigotry, hatred, misogyny, and sexual abuse. We encourage all people, especially elected officials, to work towards building a community in which all people feel welcome, safe, nurtured, and fully included in our common life.

Signed,
Rev. Michael Cheuk, Charlottesville Clergy Collective
Pastor Brenda Brown-Grooms, New Beginnings Christian Community
Rev. Gene Locke, Parish Associate, Westminster Presbyterian Church
Rev. Dr. Jim Bundy, UCC clergy retired
Rev. Robert Lewis, Hinton Ave United Methodist Church
Pastor Steve Johnson, Oak Chapel Baptist Church
Gail Hyder Wiley, elder, Westminster Presbyterian Church
The Reverend B. Cass Bailey, Trinity Episcopal Church
Daniel S Alexander, Rabbi Emeritus, Congregation Beth Israel
Alvin Edwards, PhD and Pastor, Mt. Zion First African Baptist Church and President of the C.C.C.
Adam Slate, President, Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church-Unitarian Universalist
David K. Garth , Westminster Presbyterian Church, Charlottesville
Apostle Sarah A. Kelley, Faith, Hope and Love International Healing and Deliverance Center
The Rev. Carol Carruthers Sims, Episcopal Priest, Retired
Cynthia Power, Charlottesville Friends Meeting
Rev. Isaac Collins, Wesley Memorial United Methodist Church
Rev. Phil Woodson, First United Methodist Church
Manouchehr Mohajeri, a member of the Baha'i community in Albemarle County
Elizabeth Shillue, Charlottesville Friends Meeting
Rev. Will Brown, University Baptist Church
Rev. Maren Hange, Charlottesville Mennonite Church
Rev. Liz Hulme Adam, Tabor Presbyterian Church
Rev. Marilu J. Thomas, Christ Episcopal Church
Co-Pastor Elizabeth Emrey, New Beginnings Christian Community
William N. Ward, Jr., Pastor, Bethel Church of God in Christ
The Rev. Neal Halvorson-Taylor, Grace Church, Red Hill
Ann Marie Smith, IMCC
Susan Kaufman, Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville
Rev. Dr. Susan A. Minasian
Harry Kennon, Retired, First United Methodist
Karen Foley

Conversations toward Reconciliation

2/1/2019

Last night, January 31, 2019, the Charlottesville Clergy Collective organized a "Conversations toward Reconciliation" dinner gathering at Carver Recreation Center. The purpose of the gathering was to bring together faith communities in Charlottesville in a fellowship setting to get to know one another better through intentional conversations.

Our Hope
We hoped that members of these faith communities will begin (or continue) to

engage with their own congregations in conversations about race,
learn and record stories of the role their congregations played in the history of race in Charlottesville,
build relationships with members of other faith communities to support, encourage, and learn from one another as we all do this work.

Great Turnout!
31 faith communities (see below for the list) and around 200 people attended the gathering. They enjoyed a light dinner catered and served by members of Ebenezer Baptist Church. Attendees also brought salad and desserts ... more than enough to share.

After a welcome by Dr. Alvin Edwards of Mt. Zion First African Baptist Church, Apostle Sarah Kelley of Faith, Hope and Love International Healing and Deliverance Center led the group in an opening song. Dr. Lehman Bates of Ebenezer Baptist Church offered the blessing.

Questions for Conversation
During the dinner, the participants around each table shared their answers to these questions:

Your name, your preferred pronouns, your faith community, how long have you lived in Charlottesville?
What was the religious or spiritual background of your childhood?
What brings you here tonight?

After dinner, Elizabeth Shillue of Beloved Community Charlottesville, and Charlene Green from Charlottesville Office of Human Rights prepared participants to answer a few questions (time permitting) selected from this list:

What is the racial makeup of your faith community? How does it compare to the demographic of the larger community?
What teachings does your faith tradition have which support being community across racial lines?
How widespread is the knowledge of racial justice work in your faith community?
What opportunities have you had to learn the history of your faith community in relation to the history of race events in Charlottesville?
Why do you think that our faith communities are largely segregated today, when other institutions are visibly integrated and multicultural?

Participants received a resource booklet that contained more questions to help guide further conversations with their own faith communities.

What is the Charlottesville Clergy Collective and why is honest conversations so important?
Dr. Alvin Edwards, Pastor of Mt. Zion First African Baptist Church, and President and Founder of the Charlottesville Clergy Collective talked about how the collective was formed. Dr. Michael Cheuk and Rev. Brenda Brown-Grooms, Co-Pastor of New Beginnings Christian Community then talked about how the idea for this event came about, and the importance of future conversations.

Gratitudes

Rev. Maren Hange, Pastor of Charlottesville Mennonite Church and Rev. Marilu Thomas, Associate Rector of Christ Episcopal Church for chairing the steering committee for this event.
Elizabeth Shillue of the Quaker Friends Meeting, Rev. Robert Lewis Pastor of Hinton Ave. United Methodist Church, and Michael Cheuk for being the team that created the resource booklet.
Michael Cheuk for pictures and video of the event.
The staff at Carver Recreation Center for allowing us to come and helping us to set up their space.
Charlene Green of the Charlottesville Office of Human Rights for her on-going consultation and support.
For all the faith leaders who invited members of their congregations to attend the gathering, and for their courage and work to support further conversations and education about race in the coming weeks and months.

Congregations represented:

Baha'i Faith Community of Charlottesville
Bethel Church of God in Christ
Broadus Memorial Baptist Church
Charlottesville Community Church
Charlottesville Friends Meeting
Charlottesville Mennonite Church
Christ Episcopal Church
Congregation Beth Israel
Cove Presbyterian Church
Ebenezer Baptist Church
Faith, Hope and Love International Healing and Deliverance Center
First Baptist Church, West Main
First United Methodist Church
Grace Church Red Hill
Hinton Avenue United Methodist Church
Inayati Sufi Order of Charlottesville
Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville
Mt. Zion First African Baptist Church
New Beginnings Christian Community
Olivet Presbyterian Church
Peace Lutheran Church
Pilgrim Baptist Church
Sojourners United Church of Christ
St. Paul's Memorial Episcopal Church
Tabor Presbyterian Church
Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church-Unitarian Universalist
Trinity Episcopal Church
Unity of Charlottesville
University Baptist Church
Westminster Presbyterian Church

Please give us feedback on this event & suggestions moving forward!