Progressive Leaders Must Deepen Community

By Rima Vesely-Flad

The impact of “moral values” on the outcome of the presidential election has been both elevated and derided. The extreme reactions of progressive communities to faith leaders would be comic were the situation less tragic: we are beheld as the future of liberal politics and derided as covertly responsible for the Bush administration's success. In fact, progressive faith leaders are neither the future nor the reason for failure: we are one link in a long chain of complicated factors that influence public policy.

Progressive religious leaders value both inner life and forward-looking political agendas. However, the intertwining of these two spheres has long been lacking in progressive organizations, which by-and-large seek to change external structures without examining the relationship of our interior regions to political force.

What faith leaders can uniquely offer to the larger web of progressive leadership is an articulation of the need for deeper community relationships above and beyond the public policies that we all seek to respect human rights. Progressive religious leaders value both inner life and forward-looking political agendas. However, the intertwining of these two spheres has long been lacking in progressive organizations, which by-and-large seek to change external structures without examining the relationship of our interior regions to political force.

One month since the election, we have stopped reeling enough to ask what we can learn. This article is the perspective of one woman whose multiple social identities – progressive, biracial (black and white), bisexual, and Christian – position her outside of traditional boundaries. While this article does not contain “answers” for what we might do in the face of the Bush administration's fascism, it is an articulation of an authentic experience within the progressive movement, and a vision for building community.

Progressives established a phenomenal network during the presidential campaign. For the first time in decades, black and brown people in the “inner cities” were taken seriously as voters. Organizers reached out to young people; former supporters of Ralph Nader held their noses and voted Democratic, and labor unions coordinated tens of thousands of volunteers. Building on this groundswell, progressives can still go further. And, although I abhor fundamentalist rhetoric, I will say this: the degree to which the Christian Right has managed to make the connections between faith and conservative politics is something we can learn from. If they can do it through a language of hate, we can do it through a language of love.

I speak about evangelical Christianity from personal experience. Having been raised in a non-denominational church, I spent years absorbing racist, homophobic, misogynistic, anti-abortion rhetoric. I was indoctrinated through bible studies, youth groups, church retreats, summer camps, and eventually the Campus Crusade for Christ. The well-organized Christian Right spoke to my introverted self through a personal approach, with an emphasis on belonging to the community “in the name of Jesus.” Of course, I wanted to belong: not only did I buy the personal-salvation-in-Jesus package, but the Right's political orientation along with it.   It wasn't until I traveled abroad and acknowledged the degree to which I had internalized racism that I came to terms with the agenda I had been fed. All of the hate and the fear of difference that I had absorbed began to surface; it has taken years to deprogram those fundamentalist messages.

But there was, and is, something deeply powerful in the approach of the Christian Right. Christian fundamentalist rhetoric acknowledges our deepest doubts in a way that bears on public policy. Evangelicals found their message on fear: they talk about abortion in a way that makes every person feel as though he or she will be “murdered” should the right to choice remain legal; they are able to articulate homophobia in such a way that deep feelings of personal shame are projected onto queer persons. But the Christian Right espouses more than fear, and this is why the movement has gained so much momentum in the past two decades. In our complicated society, the Christian Right has built a tightly woven infrastructure that feels affirming, safe, and protective to millions of Americans. There is a language, and what's more, a manifestation, of community.

The lack of genuine community in progressive circles is profound. . . I spent five years traveling the world, as an outsider viewing community through a looking glass, and five years actively attempting to build bridges between radical black politics and the liberal Episcopal Church. Ironically, I felt more embraced as a traveler than as an activist and an Episcopalian.

If progressives are going to move forward, we must learn to build infrastructure that is not only focused on winning campaigns. We have to learn how to live our politics on a deeper, more intimate level. The lack of genuine community in progressive circles is profound. In the decade since leaving the non-denominational tradition, I spent five years traveling the world, as an outsider viewing community through a looking glass, and five years actively attempting to build bridges between radical black politics and the liberal Episcopal Church. Ironically, I felt more embraced as a traveler than as an activist and an Episcopalian. Only at Union Theological Seminary, widely known for its emphasis on liberation theology, have I experienced a depth of community in the merging of inner life and progressive political engagement. Outside of the seminary, I have found no space to bind these two seemingly dichotomous realms.

Post-election, making these connections becomes increasingly necessary. And slowly, conversations connecting inner life to public policy are beginning to surface. Recently in New York City, U.S. Senator-elect Barack Obama, the heralded young Democratic leader, stood on a stage and spoke of authenticity and his search for his origins, in language that captivated hungry liberals. Last month, also in New York, renowned professor Cornel West held progressives spellbound with his insistence on self-critique. Some progressive foundations are now recognizing the need to support faith-based communities. A shift is starting to take place as our leaders examine the complexity of living out our politics.

Yet, the awakening in progressive communities is taking place in a time of crisis. As Congress increased the threshold for national debt to $8.2 trillion, the warning signals of national demise has surfaced once again. The dollar is weakening; other nations now bypass the U.S. in trade; foreign students are widely denied admission. It is not only faith, however, that faith leaders must espouse: falling back on this popular message without deepening community ultimately does not create the level of engagement and infrastructure that we need to implement a progressive agenda.

What progressive faith leaders can offer on a level profoundly different from most political leaders is a genuine voice of hope along with a dedicated commitment to deepening relationships. We need progressive gatherings that build closeness and create personal ease as much as we need planning meetings. We need reflective, safe spaces that create collective identity as much as we need rhetoric and infrastructure. Progressives working to defeat Bush reached out to a wide range of people. Now we need to deepen those connections and forge real, lasting relationships.

Rima Vesely-Flad is director of the Interfaith Coalition of Advocates for Reentry and Employment (ICARE) and an instructor at Sing Sing Prison in Ossining, N.Y. She lives in New York City, and may be reached by email at nyicare@earthlink.net .