by Patrick Heery

​Sometime, on Sunday night, our church's Black Lives Matter sign was vandalized. The same sign that had spoken such hope into our lives when it was stolen in hate and returned in love, in solidarity with both Black Lives and our Police. Someone saw that beauty, and decided to stomp on it.
They cut out the Black from All Lives Matter. Which has been the problem all along. All lives do matter; the problem is we're not acting like it; the problem is that the lives of some people---whether Black, or immigrant, or LGBTQ, or woman, or poor, or disabled, or abused---are not allowed to matter equally.
A banner is just fabric, but behind that fabric stand the lives of Black and Brown people and their allies who are hurting. Behind that fabric are all the parents who are afraid every morning to send their child out into a world that hates, and might kill, their child.
On Monday, that child had to ride their bike past a sign, where their identity, the very value of their life, had been erased. Consider that. A gaping hole that says: You don't belong; you don't matter; you are invisible. I wish I could say it was just one bad person. But the truth is that racism is very alive in Harriet Tubman's hometown. We like to think we are better than this; we are not. While a uniformed police officer and I stood outside the church talking on Monday, people drove by and smirked. One woman slowed down and shouted, "They fixed that sign!" brazenly applauding an act of vandalism and hate.
While we may not be better than this, as Abraham Lincoln once said, our angels are. "The better angels of our nature" have been singing loud and clear. The outpouring of love and support has been overwhelming. People have donated enough money to put up 10 signs or more! Artists have volunteered to make signs. People, formerly on the sidelines of this movement, are speaking out and getting to work. Phone calls poured in from community members and the press. Auburn's Police have once again been amazing. This time it was Officer Guzalak who answered the call; you might remember her from the national photo of a Black Lives Matter demonstration, where she and her fellow officers took a knee in solidarity with George Floyd. Once again, this officer and I had a powerful, loving, joyful conversation about working together to end racial injustice and to become a people who honor the humanity in one another, including hers as a police officer.
That morning, I crafted a somewhat crude poster that says in big bold letters "BLACK". I duct taped it to the sign, restoring the message. The scars are still there, a visible reminder of violence and division. But Black is Back, a message that we will not be silenced, Black lives will not be erased, Black children do belong. As I made the sign, I felt an odd import come over me---like it wasn't just a sign I was repairing, like I held in my hands precious life, that child riding his bike.
Now there is talk of placing signs all over our community. To all the haters out there, hear us: For every sign you destroy, ten more will rise in its place.
We will not be deterred. Your hate only feeds our love. Your hate only makes us stronger, louder. You have shown who you truly are; we see you. We see that when you said "All Lives Matter," you lied, because you just literally cut out Black Lives. And without Black Lives there are no All Lives.
Why will we not be deterred? Because we serve a God who takes what you mean for evil and uses it for good. We follow a brown-skinned Savior who took your cross, your hate, your violence, and turned it into Easter resurrection. Like Jesus, we rise! We rise! We rise! Just try to hold us down.
#BlackLivesMatter
#BlackLivesinCayugaCountyMatter
#AndStillWeRise
#AuburnStrong

by Patrick Heery

​On Thursday, July 2, our church’s Black Lives Matter sign was stolen in an act of hate. Let me tell you the story of the traveling sign, and how it made its way back home, in a divine message of hope on the eve of July Fourth.
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For weeks, Westminster Presbyterian Church, Auburn, NY—a proudly open and affirming community of justice founded in the cause of abolition, where Harriet Tubman herself was married—has displayed a Black Lives Matter sign and LGBTQ+ Pride feather flags.

Thursday night, a white man in his 50s meticulously cut the zip ties holding the banner and stuffed the banner in his bag, before running off. It just happened that exactly at this time friends of the church were driving by and witnessed the act. In a beautiful twist of divine irony, these friends weren’t just anyone; they were two women, one Black and one White, who are married to each other, two people of deep Christian faith, whose beauty, dignity, rights, and lives our very banners were proclaiming: Nairobi O. Smith and Liz Jorolemon. They are our first heroes of the night, Liz having just come off a 12.5 hour shift of nursing at Upstate’s COVID Quarantine unit, and Nairobi having just finished preparing a church to resume worship as its worship leader.
They called the police, and then called me, the pastor. I too called the police, while church members posted on social media.
Within 30 minutes of my phone call, no more than an hour and a half since the crime, a police officer pulled up to the church and got out of his car carrying the banner in his arms, like a precious child. He is the next hero of our evening: Officer Caruso.
He explained that he had found a man fitting the description provided by the witnesses. The man was inebriated. Having received the banner back, without much damage, and having been reassured that the police have his information should something happen in the future, I decided not to press charges. We are a church of love, after all. I do not know what addictions or struggles this man may face. I do know that inebriation is no excuse; he could have done anything, anywhere, but he targeted our sign, came prepared with scissors, and carefully cut each tie. There is undoubtedly hate in this man’s heart—to steal a sign proclaiming the value of life from a church. But I also know that someone had to put that hate there. I hope that, in our small act of forgiveness, a little love will slip in. For he too is a child of God.
But the night did not end there. No. The police officer and I proceeded to have a meaningful, loving conversation about Black Lives Matter. We talked about how we wanted to work together to improve our community. We quickly became friends. Unlike in many cities, the Auburn Police Department has stood in solidarity with our (completely peaceful) demonstrations for racial justice; our police chief took a knee with us. They are actively working with our advocacy organizations to create structural change. I thanked him profusely for his service to us tonight and for his solidarity. I told him that, contrary to popular conception, our proud and defiant statement of Black Lives Matter does not mean that we do not also value the lives of our police officers; we do value them, greatly; rather, it means that we want justice, healing, and freedom for Black and Brown Americans, who are not safe, whose lives are not allowed to matter as much as White lives due to entrenched racism. But we know that there are good, committed police officers, and this Officer Caruso was clearly one tonight. I thanked him for his service, for I know the risks he takes, the good he does, the difference he makes, and how little appreciation he often receives.
We parted, saying we wished we could shake each other’s hands (oh COVID!). We parted with love.
And so that’s the story of how a church’s Black Lives Matter sign was stolen by a drunk white man, witnessed and reported by a lesbian, interracial couple, retrieved by a white police officer who immediately jumped into action, and returned to the church, which forgave its violator, prayed for his welfare, and proceeded to have a beautiful, empowering conversation, police officer and pastor, about working together for Black Lives Matter so that in the end all lives can matter. That’s the story of how God had to put all these people together, just at the right moment. That’s the story of how a simple sign became a message of hope in a world that feels like it’s burning. It is just a small moment. There is so much work to do, so much systemic injustice to confront, so many people who cannot breathe. But on that one precious night, for a moment, all was LOVE.
May love win! Always!

by Kimberly Patch
 
We have entered a time when we can no longer ignore the cries of “I can’t breathe,” “Stop killing us,” and “Black lives matter” ringing from the voices of the Black community. How we have ignored these cries for so long is beyond my comprehension. I have begun the process of educating myself by listening, and I have promised to simply do better. But this promise is only as good as the verifiable actions I take in my life.
 
I have made many changes in the ways I protest. Aside from attending every protest possible, I wear a protest t-shirt almost every single day. I have several shirts that are bold with the message of Black Lives Matter. Wearing these shirts is an easy way to protest passively while making an impact. I have had great conversations about the subject of protest on my shirts. I have also infuriated those who are steeped in racism and white fragility. I am able to create a mini protest within a larger movement, a protest of one, anywhere I go.
 
My family has taken action by hanging a Black Lives Matter flag from our home. At first our children, who have been brought up to love people, were afraid that someone would vandalize our house, coming from a place of hate. This was also at the forefront of my mind. As you may have read last week, we at Westminster Presbyterian Church recently experienced acts of hate stealing and defacing the Black Lives Matter sign on our front lawn. Our family’s decision to hang up the flag was the right thing to do and it has flown from our house ever since. Only once did someone say something negative about it but my husband ensured the conversation was brief.
 
There are many positive outcomes from flying this flag on our home. People whom we have never spoken to before smile and wave or stop to talk. We have shown our home and our family to be a safe space. Our biracial foster son has taken pride in being the one to place the flag pole in its holder on the house each morning. He is reminded that his life matters before most of the occupants in our home awaken. One day I was standing on the porch and two children, approximately eight to ten years old, were racing down the sidewalk on their bikes. The young white girl yelled with excitement in her voice to her friend to look at the flag. He immediately looked up with pride glowing on his face. He proclaimed in a loud and sure voice, “ BLACK LIVES MATTER. I’m black and my life matters!” It was in that moment I realized, if no one ever sees that flag flowing in the breeze from our home again, it is okay. The flag has done its job by affirming this little boy. It was a beautiful affirmation that I am sure his parents have reinforced since his birth, but this time, he saw it hanging on a white neighbor’s home.
 
A friend of mine who lives on a well travelled road in a rural area, recently told me she was driving home from work and she witnessed a single white teenager standing at the end of his driveway holding a sign that simply said, Black Lives Matter. It was a small but meaningful act against hatred.
 
It is times like this when we hear of the murders of people such as Elijah McCain, Breonna Taylor, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, Tamir Rice, George Floyd, Botham Jean, the list goes on, it is times like these, our voices must lift up the message of the Black community. Black lives matter. Black lives are holy lives. The Black community is a holy community. Until we can look deep into the eyes of Black men, women and children, proclaiming their holiness as the image of God coming from the farthest reaches of every sinew of our bodies, until then, we have work to do. Until all people see the value, humanity, and beauty in every person of color, we must continue to educate ourselves and others. We can make a difference, one small act at a time whether it be holding a sign at the end of your driveway, wearing a t-shirt or hanging a flag. It can have an enormous impact in this great movement against the injustice of hatred and bigotry. Do something, regardless of how small.
 
Kimberly Patch is a graduate (M.A., Master of Divinity) of Northeastern Seminary. She is an inquirer for ordination to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament, under the care of Westminster Presbyterian Church. She lives in Auburn with her husband and children. She is also a foster mother, a social justice advocate and president of the board of directors of the new Auburn Hunger Task Force, which is working to provide free daily meals to the Auburn community.