Timothy Murphy: Sandhya, you have a lot of experience working with churches in ministries of church transformation and anti‐racism training. So tell me, is it possible for churches to transform into social justice‐inspired communities?
Sandhya Jha: So one of the things I love about being a follower of Jesus is his simultaneous messages of "any thing is possible" and "this is hard." I find myself thinking about how he told us all we need is the faith of a mustard seed, and simultaneously he talks about how almost completely impossible it is for a rich man to get into heaven... I think the church today faces both of those messages: the task of transformation is simple but it's not easy.
Murphy: From my observations and experience, it seems that the primary purpose that people gather as church communities is a group that comforts and supports one another. That we are loved, that our lives matter, that we are cared for. The fellowship of seeking mutual travelers brings us together. Concerns about transforming ourselves, much less our society, seem to have to grow out of that initial urge to stick, don't you think?
Jha: Sure! In almost every congregation I work with—and many of them are struggling to keep their doors open--
when I ask them to describe themselves, they describe themselves as a family. I sometimes wonder if that's the double‐edged sword of church—so many people need deeply felt relationships and a sense of belonging in a world that isolates us, and yet a family is a closed system. So it can be a limiting factor as well as a great and powerful value.
I think the thing that makes congregational transformation so challenging is one thing: comfort. In a rapidly changing world, a lot of people turn to the church to be the one thing they can count on. When other people try to change the church, that can feel like a personal assault, and things can get messy fast. And that has some tricky intersections with anti‐racism and anti‐oppression work, too.
Murphy: Definitely. When we are part of a community that is daily experiencing oppression all around us, church as support, comfort, and celebration can be a critical way to know that there is good news that God loves us in contrast with the bad news we hear the rest of the week that our lives are less valuable. That might have been the origin of
church, itself. But when you place that approach among people with power or privilege, it can reinforce an alienating assurance that needs dismantling.
Jha: Absolutely. And I think a lot of us in progressive circles have noticed how that's playing itself out in conservative circles, but not so much in what's happening in our midst... For example, it feels really clear to me that conservatives who unleashed a holy war about Santa and Jesus being White last year were feeling assaulted and embattled because
they have a sense that they're losing some of the unearned privilege they had around both religious and racial normativity in the US. And the rest of us had some good laughs about that, possibly at their expense... But it's less funny when people I love and who I know want the church and its mission to thrive feel similarly embattled and seek to "protect the church" from what I think are innovative ways of being church even though they're different from how we did them in the past. We struggle with a lot of our own issues of comfort and sense of how things should look and sound and feel, even when our values are different. And that's trickier to see than the speck in our tea party neighbor's eye.
Murphy: Yes, it is much easier for progressives to look at conservative forms of following Jesus and say, "Wow, that is ridiculous." Making fun of conservative beliefs can seem like a pastime. But it makes me wonder if this isn't an excuse to not look at ourselves more deeply.
Jha: Exactly. I've been watching it happen in my own denomination lately—great progressive leaders who are terrified that the next generation (especially the next generation of color) will not preserve their legacies. And doing some yucky things that undermine or co‐opt that next generation. All because they want to preserve the good they've done. And that's the theological issue at the heart of all of this: Whenever we think it's our legacy, we get into trouble. Without naming names, have you witnessed some of that in recent years, or is it just me?
Murphy: There definitely seems to be some angst over trumpeting how "we were the churches of the Social Gospel" or "we stood with Martin Luther King and the civil rights movement" or "we learned from liberation theologies" or "We were the first to ordain a woman, or a gay man, and don't you forget it!" I think there's a fear that without institutional continuity, those gains will be swept aside for the prosperity gospel or something.
Jha: I think what is painful about that is we don't realize how deeply we're hurting each other in that process. We're not always aware that we're acting out of a sense that we're in the corner of a boxing ring and fighting to protect ourselves. At the same time, I think there are some causes for hope, although they're nuanced.
Murphy: Yes, let's move to hope! Where do you see it? One of my hopes is actually in certain social movements that take on certain characteristics of church. The social and personal change is at the core of the groups, and then spirituality and community support are added in. It's almost church-beyond-church. But maybe you have some other insights!
Jha: It's interesting, because I see hope and humility inextricably bound up in each other... I coordinate an alternative spiritual community grounded in conscious hip hop, because young people of color in my community have few places to wrestle with their faith and also have their cultural identity celebrated and honored. In its last incarnation, we had only met a couple of times before one of the young men on the planning team said, "I think we should invite an elder to participate in our next gathering." They chose someone who didn't self‐define as an elder, but it radiated from
him: wisdom and humility and respect for them and their gifts. It was really powerful. So for me, that's a glimmer of hope--generations of change‐makers with spiritual commitments wanting to be in respectful relationship with each other. The justice movement is better when that happens, and so is the church.
Murphy: Wow, that does sound powerful. You may not be singing "Now Thank We All Our God," but elements of the tradition and wisdom are being brought in in culturally relevant ways.
Jha: Exactly. And it includes elements of our ancestral practices, which didn't involve young people being lectured about why they are the problem. Another place I find hope is in some congregations that are recognizing they don't need to be the source of every single program or be in control of it--that they can partner with secular nonprofits and bring their best selves into that work in non‐controlling ways. It deepens relationships and helps strengthen our work to build the realm of God here on earth. And frankly it's good practice in not always using churchy talk we don't know we're using which can be alienating to people not from a church context.
Murphy: So you like a more implicit form of doing church without the particular language of Jesus, faithfulness,
or praxis?
Jha: Oh, no! Not really at all! In my community, I have watched a couple of mainline, although predominantly POC,
churches partner with nonprofits working to address mass incarceration. They co‐host forums, they do movie screenings, they engage in protests and in support of the prisoners who went on a hunger strike. And their impact is so much bigger.
Murphy: So it sounds like a collaboration of social movements, congregations, and humility to learn from each other, and listen deeply, might be a way to go.
Jha: YES!!! I think the church is at its best when we are really transparent about who we are and unashamed of our identity, but we are also not needing to make everyone else who we are. Churches usually are good at one or the other, but not both.
Murphy: Sandhya, thank you so much for your wisdom and insights and being willing to talk about church. I agree that to the extent that transformation is possible, it comes from humble partnerships that can be a way for us to practice faithfulness to the way of Jesus.
Jha: Thanks, Timothy! My mentor is Phil Lawson, a great civil rights leader and United Methodist pastor. He recently said, "In the civil rights movement, the faith community didn't try to be every part of the movement. We had lawyers working on the legal issues, organizers doing the organizing, policy experts working on policy. The role of the faith
community was to bring hope, and vision, and the larger framework of the beloved community. We need to focus on what we do and collaborate with others who can do the other parts."