Spirituality and Social Justice

The idea of the separation of church and state is fine. I get why that's a thing. What's funny is that my priorities as a voter are shaped critically by my spirituality (which is different than the church, but is very closely related). So in my brain, I get that we're trying to create an operational government (lolol) that isn't a theocracy. We want people to have their cake and eat it too—enjoy their religion, but have freedoms separately established and protected by our duly elected officials as a safeguard preventing religious zealots from inappropriately wielding power over anyone. But I can't shake how my religious exposure and subsequent spiritual work as an individual inform what I think the government should be doing and the rights it should be ensuring we have as citizens. My ideals and philosophies are wholly shaped by who I know God to be and what He's asked of me as His son.

I was grateful this week to have recently read Alma 5. There is a lot to unpack in that chapter, including the few verses that went on my missionary plaque. It was cool to reread this chapter and consider how impactful it had been to me about ten years ago when I remember having a defining experience as I studied it. But to read it now amidst the intense discussions and activism surrounding racism in America, I found moments of God reminding me of my role while I'm here, especially in this short phrase from verse 54:

"Yea, will ye persist in supposing that ye 

are better one than another...[?]"

The overt message of this is about knowing where you rank, which is to say, you don't rank higher than anyone else for any reason. It isn't that this tiny line from one verse of a long chapter necessarily says "therefore take up your signs, your chants, and link arms with your brethren of different melanin levels." But the subtext is there for me this time. I'm not better than anyone based on my race, and I've felt that for a long time. But perhaps more critical, at this particular phase of history at least, is the notion that because I'm not better than anyone else it means I'm not excused from being proactive in making my voice heard about injustices I believe exist. Where I've previously decided to not engage except on election day, I can't help but think that's no longer enough.

The verses that most affect my personal overarching credo come from the Savior Himself: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart... This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" (Matthew 22:37-39).

If Jesus has explicitly stated that the top two priorities I am to have as a devoted disciple both incorporate love, I can't imagine what kind of rationale, justification, or manipulation of language can be utilized to determine that we don't have some kind of duty to try to help those that are underserved, overlooked, and overtly punished in an outsized fashion. What could overrule the principle of love that has been so explicitly taught as our top priority? For baptized members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we've even covenanted to take upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ—to do and be as He would do and be! As it turns out, the Savior very specifically told a story about a Jewish priest that helped a Samaritan that had been hurt by thieves and left for dead. It's not far-fetched in my mind that this parable is a corroboration of the commandment in Matthew 22. To reiterate: the commandment says we are to love others, just as we love God. And as Jesus exemplified throughout His life, as well as through the Jewish priest of the parable, it means we are to act.

The black men and women who have been killed are just that: men and women. They're people. Not animals, nor aliens. I think that fact alone merits some respect and care for them. And sure, some of these people of color who were targeted by law enforcement were doing bad things (though not all of them!). Regardless of that fact, the idea of allegedly using counterfeit money to buy some cigarettes hardly warrants asphyxiation in recompense. Taking a jog through the neighborhood isn't worthy of extra-judicial capital punishment on a hunch/whim. These men and women are deserving of our love. They're deserving of our action to ensure this doesn't happen again and again.

It's easy for me to type this while I'm still feeling strongly about what's going on, but that's not enough this time. I still have to put these ideas to use. If it sounds like I'm coming at this with a holier-than-thou attitude, I'll wipe that assessment away with the admission that I haven't done enough these last few weeks. So far I've tried acting in small ways—donating some money where I could, and pushing back a bit in conversations with people that downplay the severity of these injustices. I hope that by writing these things out, though, I won't be so quick to forget what I'm learning and feeling. I hope that I'll find the right way to use what God has taught me and the skills He has given me to help other people. While there might be ambiguity in other elements of the gospel, I'm feeling clarity in this.

And while I maintain that theocracies aren't great, I know that using this understanding of who God wants me to be will shape the decisions I make in engaging with government, especially at the ballot box.