Skip to main content

George Floyd and Justice

There are many things during this Covid pandemic that will be remembered.  But one thing that stands out during that long, challenging pandemic period is the summer death of George Floyd.  Pictures of a Minnesota police officer kneeling on the neck of Floyd captivated a nation and, indeed, the whole world.  Most of us who saw that picture either do not know or forget how its situation came to be.  But we can recall hearing Floyd’s voice and seeing the officer continue to kneel on his neck.  9:29 came to be a repeated phrase to clock how long that posture continued.  The end was tragic.

But to call it the end is not correct.  Tragically, George Floyd died that day.  But his name immediately assumed symbolic function.  His name came to signify the struggle for justice.  All of us who remember the summer of 2021 know that the death of Floyd precipitated demonstrations, outbreaks of mayhem in multiple cities and even more.  It was as if a candle had lit a stick of dynamite.  From that day forward, everyone knew the upcoming trial of a murder charge against a police officer would be a real test.

The trial was available for public consumption if you wanted to watch television or some other media outlet.  This has become a standard in our electronically connected world.  As I ponder this phenomenon, I think the first time I recall seeing this kind of ongoing trial-like atmosphere was the impeachment of Richard Nixon.  And then, of course, the trial of football great, O.J. Simpson, played out in front of millions of Americans.  But they were not quite the same.

The George Floyd incident had two other ingredients that make justice discussions in this country so tricky.  Race is the obvious initial focus.  Everyone in this country knows that the issue of race in this country---indeed, ethnic minorities---is a real problem.  This goes way before the Civil War of the 1860s and, sadly, was not solved by that bloody conflict.  We all know that Jim Crow was not just the name of some guy.  Jim Crow also became symbolic as a name and whenever that name comes up, as it still does, we know there is still a problem. 

Besides race, the other focus in the George Floyd story is the police.  The guy kneeling on Floyd’s neck was not just some guy---not even some white guy.  The guy kneeling on Floyd’s neck was a police officer---in uniform performing his duty.  There were three other police on the scene to help.  The is where the issue of justice jumps in with the first tough question.  Why do four police find it impossible to deal with one person---regardless of what precipitated the scene---which led to a death?

With this in mind, most folks knew the trial of the police office was more than simply the trial of a person accused of murder.  Also, on trial to ascertain justice was race and police practices.  In this sense the trial also took on symbolic potency.  In bigger terms it could easily be framed as a trial of a societal problem called racism and a trial of the law-and-order system designed to bring justice, especially in a society that chooses a blind woman---Lady Justice---to adjudicate problems.  

The verdict has just arrived.  The police officer is found guilty on all three charges.  The jury had to be unanimous, which at least means twelve women and men who represent significant diversity all agreed on the statement of justice.  That is good.  This case is now over, except for the sentencing.  But, the issue is not over.  This does not solve racism.  Nor does it guarantee our law-and-order system always delivers justice without prejudice.  So where does that leave us?

For me, justice is always at least partly a spiritual issue.  Justice is core to all major religious traditions.  God is just and all persons who claim to be one of God’s children also is called to be just and act with justice.  In this spiritual sense, justice should be like Lady Justice and treat all people in the same way.  This is not only a personal issue, i.e. I should be just.  Justice is also societal.  We should work for a society that is just.

This is where the trial of George Floyd is not over. His individual case has been decided, although it likely will be appealed.  But it does not totally change how our American society deals with justice---and deals out justice.  There is still work to do.  We all know there is prejudice and bias.  Personally, I am sure I have biases---sometimes I am even blind to my own bias.  So, we have communal work to do.

And while justice is front and center here, I also don’t want to forget the other issue that often will come into play.  That issue is compassion.  Even though George Floyd’s trial is over, he will never come back to life.  We need compassion with his family, friends and, ultimately, all of us.  And though the police officer has been judged guilty, we need compassion for him, for his family and, ultimately, for all of us.  This is what spiritual folks try to do.

We work for justice and we are ready to extend compassion.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I-Thou Relationships

Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber.   I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s.   It was already a famous book by then.   I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it.   It has been a while since I looked at the book.             Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks?   I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece.   I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation.   I wish more people read him and took him seriously.             Brooks’ article focused on the 2016 contentious election.   He provocatively suggests, “Read Buber, Not the Polls!”   I think Brooks puts

Spiritual Commitment

I was reading along in a very nice little book and hit these lines about commitment.   The author, Mitch Albom, uses the voice of one of the main characters of his nonfiction book about faith to reflect on commitment.   The voice belongs to Albom’s old rabbi of the Jewish synagogue where he went until his college days.   The old rabbi, Albert Lewis, says “the word ‘commitment’ has lost its meaning.”    The rabbi continues in a way that surely would have many people saying, “Amen!”   About commitment he says, “I’m old enough when it used to be a positive.   A committed person was someone to be admired.   He was loyal and steady.   Now a commitment is something you avoid.   You don’t want to tie yourself down.”   I also think I am old enough to know that commitment was usually a positive word.   I can think of a range of situations in which commitment would have been seen to be positive.   For example, growing up was full of sports for me.   Commitment would have been presupposed t

Inward Journey and Outward Pilgrimage

There are so many different ways to think about the spiritual life.   And of course, in our country there are so many different variations of religious experiences.   There are liberals and conservatives.   There are fundamentalists and Pentecostals.   Besides the dizzying variety of Christian traditions, there are many different non-Christian traditions.   There are the major traditions, such as Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and so on.   There are the slightly more obscure traditions, such as Sikhism, Jainism, etc.   And then there are more fringe groups and, even, pseudo-religions.   There are defining doctrines and religious practices.   Some of these are specific to a particular tradition or a few traditions, such as the koan , which is used in Zen Buddhism for example.   Other defining doctrines or practices are common across the religious board.   Something like meditation would be a good example.   Christians meditate; Buddhists meditate.   And other groups practice this spiri