Wednesday, April 29, 2015

The Day the Buses Didn't Run

I will never forget the MTA ticket books I and other Baltimore City students received monthly to get to and from school. The ticket books contained two paper tickets for each day of school. One to get you there, one to get you home. These things were gold. When I attended Western High School, on the north side of the city (it had been “western” many years before, then got relocated…) I had to travel from the south end of the city, from a neighborhood called Brooklyn. To catch the bus to school—an MTA bus, not a yellow bus—we waited at a regular bus stop and waited for the specially-routed #64 to come by. Our bus took us through various neighborhoods, picking up Western and Poly (the school beside ours) students as it went.

Back then, there were only a few city-wide schools whose student bodies travelled to high school: Western, City, Poly, and a few other special programs. The rest of the high schools were zoned…neighborhood schools. Today, the city has specialized its high schools. What had been my zoned school, Southern, is now Digital Harbor—a high school with a technology focus. In fact, if you check out the city’s list of high schools, NOT A SINGLE ONE is listed as a neighborhood school (http://schoolchoice.baltimorecityschools.org/).

What does this mean for what happened Monday? A large portion of the students at Frederick Douglass High School, the school near Mondawmin Mall whose students ended up largely getting drawn into one of the darkest days in recent Baltimore history, NEEDED TO TAKE A BUS OR THE METRO TO GET HOME.

Others have written more thoroughly on this, especially the Mother Jones article about it HERE. Suffice to say, on top of the line of police in riot gear greeting students as they left school for the day, the fact that their rides home were gone (which is what I’d heard…Mother Jones said even students who could find buses to get on were made to disembark) left basically the better part of an entire high school student body milling about in precisely the place people were expecting trouble. You know what happens when you make hundreds of high school kids stay in one place? Usually trouble.

Now, many of these kids made really poor choices. Some straight up made criminal ones. And I’m a big proponent of people learning about (appropriate) consequences for their actions early—it’s much harder to learn later in life. However, the community wasn’t expecting these kids to act out (as one teacher in the Mother Jones article said, many of the kids thought the idea for purge was stupid, or the kids themselves were scared). It wasn’t because they were out of touch, but because most would say, there was not a threat on the level of what later happened. As someone who was actually in touch with Baltimore City teachers that day before school let out, you know what they were most worried about? A threat of gang activity, which police had released as a “credible threat.” They were worried for their kids, not about what their kids would do.

The truth is, we will never know what would have been different if those students had been permitted to get on their buses and go home. I do believe if the buses being prevented from picking up students have been the cute yellow buses most counties have, there would have been wild uproar at kids being prevented from getting on them and going home. I suspect if you asked any high school teacher or administrator if they thought it was a good idea to open the doors after school, push the kids out, and then make them hang out outside without a way home, they would laugh and know you weren’t actually serious, because that would be an incredibly ridiculous idea.

But that’s what happened Monday afternoon.



Today these youth are back in school. They’ve had a couple days to be reprimanded by adults for even considering acting out, and some have been appropriately arrested for their actions. There were, of course, others driving the riots (3/4 of those arrested were adults) but it still seems in retrospect that so much turned in the minutes after school got out.

The continuing reflection on the riot will look at many things, will examine how we guide our young people better, and hopefully will reflect on the tension that existed to even tip the scales to violence because the buses weren’t there. It would be great if the city and police leadership would explain why the buses weren’t there. Maybe even if, in retrospect, they admitted it didn’t help things to keep those kids there.

But then, that’s part of what started this all anyway, isn’t it? These young people live in a culture which blames them without asking why a situation escalated and if perhaps people in positions of power actually compounded and escalated things, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

Today, high school students get ID cards to use for their “school buses.” (Not all are special routes for students, many are just regular bus routes) Which is probably better…the tickets were a pain to keep track of (yep, I was known to pull the wrong ticket for the day sometimes). Most people don’t know what it is to rely on public transportation to get to and from school. Or the way you are at the mercy of the MTA, other leaders, and the crazy lady talking to her imaginary friend (this happened to me, and that wasn’t the half of it…).

Baltimore is not a city with energy behind a riot. That’s the thing. Some will (and perhaps rightly so) criticize some in leadership for underestimating the violence that would come Monday. And if it hadn’t come Monday, perhaps it would have come another day. I really wonder though…what could have been different if only the buses had come…and gone…with kids on them…

There is more going on in Baltimore than just whether the buses come or not, of course. But not riots. Protests, yes? A man died from injuries after an arrest that no one seems to suggest was violent itself. That should not happen. I have too much respect for police (many of whom I know or am related to) to believe that it’s a default assumption that a police officer will use such force as to seriously injure or kill someone and this is acceptable. The police officers I know (and, indeed, much of the police action we witnessed yesterday) display such restraint as a part of their day-to-day bearing that it’s hard to account for those police officers (of whom there are more than many of us would like to admit) do not show such restraint.

We will all, no doubt, live with tension until a report about Freddie Gray’s death is released (and charges, etc. as the facts direct). The various questions, emotions, competing priorities and biases all tied up in this case make it complex and even the wisest of leaders would be foolish to predict public reaction. But I believe Baltimore is ready to move forward…but that moving forward can’t just be a moving forward of repression, oppression and empty peace, but one that changes the systems that create the tension, injustices and limited opportunities to begin with.


Maybe we can start by getting the kids home safely today.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

On an Inauspicious Start to the Triduum

I would like to say my observance of the Triduum, these high holy days leading up to Easter, began with a profundity befitting of such important days. I have this nostalgic longing for my ministry days before kids, when I could start the day in quiet study and reflection on such a day.

Okay, that’s a cop out. I could get up early and have quiet. Except my 19 month old wakes up between 5 and 5:45 a.m. Every. Single. Day. Her sister used to also. I have been waking up before 6 am (against my will, mind you) for over four years now. So yeah.

At any rate, I don’t know if I actually did that before kids. I don’t actually remember. But I like to think I did. And that some day I’ll do that again. Let’s just say that is very much NOT how this year’s Maundy Thursday began.

Instead, I woke grumpy because Mary had inexplicably been up for a couple hours overnight. Now, my husband, who should be sainted, took her for most of that. I had her for 30, maybe 40 minutes before I cracked and had to tap out. I managed to wind myself into my own, “I’m a PASTOR and Maundy Thursday is TOMORROW and this kid needs to GET WITH THE PROGRAM!”

I got more sleep than Chris. I still woke grumpy though.

And you know what happens when Mommy decides to be grumpy? Every other female in the house decides it’s grumpy day too.

Our morning did not go smoothly.

Let’s be honest, though. I have a 4 year old and an 18 month old. Our mornings rarely go smoothly.

BUT THIS IS MAUNDY THURSDAY. What happened to the Gospel of Mark’s account of God just making things happen? Sure, disciples, here’s a donkey, take it. Here, disciples, is this random guy who will lead you to a room to prepare for Passover.

WHY DOESN’T THIS EVER HAPPEN IN A PASTOR’S HOUSE DURING HOLY WEEK?

Here’s the thing about me. I freak out. A to-do list the size of what I began today with becomes oppressively overwhelming. And nothing helps. Except starting to DO stuff.  Anything, really. I thrive on momentum. I actually thrive in crunch time. You know what is really good at preventing you from getting to work and getting ANYTHING done? Small children. This is a scientifically proven fact, and so says every scientist who ever tried to get out of the house in the morning and drop off small children at daycare on the way to their lab.

Finally, it happened, we were out the door. Now, you have to understand, the 20 feet from our door to my minivan are the longest 20 feet EVER in the morning. But we did it. I got the girls dropped at school (not without Mary melting down with her sister’s attempt to help her get Mary’s coat off ended in Mary face planting into the floor…).

Then I was headed to work. To the office where HUNDREDS of bulletins needed to be printed and folded, and tons of prep stuff needed to happen. On the way, I needed to pop by a nursing home to visit a church member who, if I didn’t get to see today, well, at the rate things were going, I wasn’t going to be able to dig out from bulletins and sermons till Pentecost…

Then came the call. A call from my husband. This incredible, amazing man I got to marry. Now, Chris knows me well. He knows my morning frustrations and anxieties melt once I start tackling my to do list. He’s gotten really good at calming helping all three of his ladies navigate the mornings and get out the door. He knows we’ll be fine once we’re halfway down the driveway.

Today, though, I get this call from him and he says, “So what do you want me to get you from Starbucks?”

More powerful loving words have never been spoken. Those words promised not only caffeine (I’d already decided a trip for caffeine on the way to the office was needed) but that he was coming. Unplanned. Unasked. Coming to help.

My morning started rocky. But today I got done two days of work in one day. My husband’s hospitality and love continues to amaze me. I love talking about Christian hospitality, not because I’m good at it (I could stand to grow a lot to say the least) but because Chris excels at it. It’s a good thing he’s a camp and retreat center director. I still think Boy Scouts (OF ALL PEOPLE!!!) should show up for a weekend camping out with some form of fire-creation. Matches. Lighter. Rubbing sticks together. You know who happily takes then a lighter? This guy. This guy I married.

The retreat group with crazy requests. The ones I tell him, “You need to make them be responsible for their own actions and choices. Family Systems Theory. You know, we need to be responsible for yourselves. Who doesn’t bring sheets?” You know what he does after I say that? He goes and takes them sheets. Heck, he’ll probably even take them a pillow. The staff he works with are just the same. Strange, weird people.

Some people excel at offering others hospitality but struggle with those closest to them. Chris does not.

I cannot help but reflect on this today, as I join with Christians around the world to reflect on Jesus’ love and sacrifice for us. Now, my husband is not God. Or Jesus (the fact I often mistype his name “Chris” as “Christ” is, I suspect, a job hazard).

But isn’t this how God comes to us? Precisely when we’re out the end of our energies. Trying to hold it together ourselves. And failing miserably. Maybe we didn’t ask for Jesus. We didn’t know how God would fix it all. To be honest, we would have chosen another way.

God shows up.

We get to be drawn into what God is doing, and we get to be drawn in together.

I hope that the days ahead will be for you more than a place-holder between now and Easter. I hope it will be an opportunity for you to reflect on the places in your life you have been trying to work out yourself, but not doing very well at. I hope it will be a time to reflect on how you’ve tried to define community as those most like you. At how maybe you’ve even tried to make God come to you on your own terms. I hope you will be able, but God’s grace, to lay all this at the feet of the cross.

And then, wait and see what our God, the God who SHOWS UP (you know, Emmanuel) does with it all, and with your life and the world.