Embracing a virtuous bias

In days of upheaval, people of faith stand at intersection of transformation, resistance

Jean-Michel Gisnel prays with other congregants at First Evangelical Haitian Church of Springfield, Ohio, Jan. 26. — Luis Andres Henao/AP Jean-Michel Gisnel prays with other congregants at First Evangelical Haitian Church of Springfield, Ohio, Jan. 26. — Luis Andres Henao/AP

Diversity, equity and inclusion are anathema to the new dispensation in Washington. Fighting racial discrimination is out. “Colorblindness” is in. White privilege officially doesn’t exist.

It’s not just the racist backlash against DEI that’s alarming. It’s the surge in deportation of immigrants. It’s the denigrating of LGBTQ+ people. It’s the abandonment of the Paris Climate Agreement. It’s the dismantling of ­humanitarian foreign aid and the threats to domestic safety-net programs. It’s the cult of Christian nationalism, claiming God’s blessing on every cold-hearted policy.

What’s a justice-minded Christian to do?

Pray, speak and act — as Mennonite Church USA is doing by joining a lawsuit challenging the Trump administration’s approval of immigration raids in churches.

But resistance is not enough. There’s also transformation. Scripture describes the change that’s needed.

“Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is — what is good and pleasing and mature” (Romans 12:2).

How can we renew our minds in these days of upheaval? How can we be the body of Christ amid the wreckage of what neo-Anabaptist activist Shane Claiborne calls a “collision of two Christianities” (the gospel of Jesus and the gospel of Trump)?

One way to start building a bridge across political and religious divisions is to admit we’re all biased: We make prejudgments based on our background and experience. Our differences are em­bedded in how we’ve learned to see the world, and they’re probably not going to change.   

Accepting that we’re all biased doesn’t mean all biases are OK.

Diversity, equity and inclusion are pigeonholed as liberal biases but don’t have to be. DEI principles unmask pernicious biases that favor the wealthy, protect White privilege and fear the immigrant. They do not “harm” White people but point toward virtuous biases like care for the poor, racial justice and welcoming the stranger.

DEI may be dead for now in the U.S. government, but many Anabaptists and other Christians affirm its value. Shannon Dycus, vice president of student affairs, equity and belonging at Eastern Mennonite University, told AW that EMU remains deeply committed to DEI principles, “even in the face of political backlash. . . . We believe that diversity strengthens our community and equips students with the intercultural competence needed to lead with integrity and compassion.”

DEI isn’t only good for college students. Writing for AW in 2021, ­Jacqueline N. Font-Guzmán, EMU’s DEI director at the time, suggested ways to make our communities more diverse, equitable and inclusive:

— Expand our moral imagination, starting with simply becoming curious about each other.

— Prioritize respect and empathy in our relationships.

— Become aware of how we may unintentionally sustain inequity, racism, misogyny and exclusion.

These suggestions remind us what a contrast there is between a DEI mindset and a certainty of our own righteous­ness. DEI asks us to consider that racial discrimination persists not only in the world around us but also within our own hearts and minds. No wonder it is hard for many to accept and lately has become an all-purpose target of White grievance.

If we expect others to give up their righteous certainty, we have to give up ours as well. In today’s political climate, this might require nothing less than a transformed mind.

Our congregations stand at the intersection of resistance and transformation. AW board member ­Melissa Florer-Bixler, pastor of Raleigh Men­­­­nonite Church in North Carolina, wrote on the AW website (“Anabaptist Trumpism”) that during “these terrible days” her congregation “has been a place of refuge and safety. We return . . . to the place where we can find comfort and strength, provide materially for one another, plan our resistance to rising authoritarianism and work to protect those in our community who are in the crosshairs of the Trump administration.”

Some in the crosshairs belong to congregations like Em­manuel Mennonite Church in Gainesville, Fla., where AW digital strategist Juan Moya attends. “Constant fear surrounds the adults and children potentially affected by the deportations that began Jan. 20,” Moya wrote on the AW website. Moya drew hope from the prophetic words of Bishop Mariann Budde (as columnist Jonny Rashid also does). Budde called for mercy for immigrants and LGBTQ+ people in a sermon on the day after the inauguration, with President Trump in a front pew.

Jesus, too, preached a sermon to inaugurate his ministry. He quoted the prophet Isaiah, proclaiming good news for the poor and liberation for the oppressed (Luke 4:18-19). As Romans 12:2 says, there are ways to figure out what God’s will is.

Paul Schrag

Paul Schrag is editor of Anabaptist World. He lives in Newton, Kan., attends First Mennonite Church of Newton and is Read More

Anabaptist World

Anabaptist World Inc. (AW) is an independent journalistic ministry serving the global Anabaptist movement. We seek to inform, inspire and Read More

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