The violence that dominates so much of our lives is a serious problem. The gun violence that threatens us on the streets, in our cars, in restaurants and even in funeral homes, is Chicago’s problem. The sickness of gun culture that prevents even reasonable restraints in the gun industry is a national problem.
For us, it is a matter of faith as well.
This summer, we have joined the Tribune’s opinion section to share common sense, community-based approaches to counter gun violence. These are not only lessons we have learned working with our communities, but they also are lessons buoyed, encouraged, even commanded by our various traditions. While in recent weeks we have shared strategies related to gun trafficking, witness protection, mental health, violence interruption and more, this week we would like to share with you how our individual traditions — Jewish, Christian and Muslim — move us to work together for justice.
You will hear, in each of our voices, the source of our deep commitments. We are fueled by our family, our ancestors. We are carried along by the voices of prophets and the melodies of song. We sense the great arc of history, a history filled with oppression and liberation. These move us to work, together, for the better world our varied traditions envision.
Cy Fields, New Landmark Baptist Church
My inspiration to do this work is fueled by the historical tradition of the Black church commitment to be a voice crying in the wilderness for justice, civil rights, freedom, and equality for the poor and marginalized among us. The ministry of Jesus as magnified in Luke 4:18-19 serves as a foundation to fight harder, stand taller, and link the work of God with the work of the community against blatant and subtle injustices. The Christian faith is rooted in freedom. We’ve always had freedom songs that refuse to be silenced until the residue of America’s original sin and injustice becomes a vanquished reality.
Beth Brown, Lincoln Park Presbyterian Church
As a queer female Christian pastor, I take seriously my commitment to dismantling Christian and white supremacy. What that means for my faith is that I prioritize the teachings that speak to our interconnectedness and our responsibility toward each other and all beings. One of my guiding principles is one that is present in all of the world’s major religions and spiritual traditions: Treat others the way you want to be treated or the reverse, which is don’t treat others the way you don’t want to be treated.
When it comes to gun violence prevention, I want to treat others the way I want to be treated, which means acting as if it is my closest family members who are being killed or wounded. Because of that, I am working hard to see that through the Office of Gun Violence Prevention Ordinance, we secure a permanent office with permanent funding to address all aspects of this issue.
Otis Moss III, Trinity United Church of Christ
“Oh, freedom, Oh, freedom/ Oh freedom over me./ And before I’d be a slave/ I’d be buried in my grave/ And go home to my Lord and be free.”
The song “Oh, Freedom” crafted by enslaved Africans echoes the wisdom of West Africa, the existential condition of Black life in America plus the wondrous power of Black spirituality. Freedom is rooted in the simple fact God loves us, has given self-agency and autonomy to humanity and desires God’s creation to thrive, flourish and build a beloved community. This simple narrative is the heart of justice envisioned by people of African descent — that we are called “to set the captives free.”
Abdullah Mitchell, Council of Islamic Organizations of Greater Chicago
In Islam, nonviolence and the pursuit of justice are core principles. In the Quran, our sacred text, there is the following revelation regarding pursuing justice: “Stand up firmly for justice, as a witness to God, even as against yourselves or your parents or your kin, and whether it be against rich or poor” (4:135). The importance of nonviolence as a principle in Islam is reflected in the teachings of our Prophet Muhammad, such as when he stated: “Faith is a restraint against all violence, let no Believer commit violence.”
Ciera Bates-Chamberlain, Live Free Illinois
“But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
The Book of Acts is often quoted in my tradition. We believe that as people of faith, full of God’s spirit, we are endowed with the power not only for spiritual matters, but also to have power to transform the quality of life here on earth. As I have dedicated my life in following the lifestyle of Christ, this means that I, too, must stand in solidarity with the most marginalized and oppressed communities and be a witness by speaking correction and justice to unjust political leaders who create and support harmful practices and policies.
Chris Griffin, Soul City Church
My family has had a history of actively participating in civil rights and social justice. My uncle, the Rev. Arthur Griffin, hosted the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. while he was a resident on Chicago’s West Side and also worked with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. My oldest brother played trumpet in the Operation Breadbasket band. My sister worked as a secretary in King’s Chicago office and was a babysitter for the Rev. Jesse Jackson’s children. My other brother marched during the movement in one of Chicago’s most violent civil rights marches through Gage Park on the South Side.
I guess working for justice is in my DNA. I’ve participated in protests to strike down the “three strikes, you’re out” policy at Chicago Public Schools. I participated in protests when the owners of the Chicago Bulls and Blackhawks wanted to relocate West Side residents in order to make room for the United Center. I marched and petitioned Mayor Rahm Emanuel’s administration over the cover-up of the murder of Laquan McDonald. I fought for sensible gun safety legislation in Springfield and Chicago. This is my family tradition I live today.
Seth Limmer, Open Judaism
The thematic frame of the Exodus from Egypt connects memories of the past with future action. It reminds us that the world is constantly in revolution from slavery to freedom, that the human experience ranges from degradation to dignity, and that the course of history has as many moments of liberation as it does recurrences of the rule of evil. The moral of the story, by connecting us with past oppression, is to deepen our commitment to bringing about a future of peace and compassion.
Reform Judaism takes most seriously this charge to bend the arc of history toward justice, peace and liberty. In working to end the oppression and injustices of our age, we live up not only to the ideal of our Exodus, but also to the aspirations of our daily liturgy as well: “l’taken olam b’malchut shaddai,” to repair our world and establish God’s realm of peace and compassion.
Michael Pfleger, the Faith Community of St. Sabina
Too often, it seems that social justice has become an appetizer to the mission of the church rather than part of its identity. If we look back at our roots and the Scripture on which we base our faith and the life of Jesus, we realize that justice is the DNA of our faith. Most of Jesus’ ministry was outside the walls of the church and challenged the injustice of the government and the hypocrisy of the religious. What makes us disciples of Jesus is not what we do in the church, but what we do when we leave the church to build the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven.
That is our work, our shared project: to build here on earth, among all the messiness of human living, what we imagine the perfect world of the heavens should resemble.
Chicago faith leaders Rabbi Seth M. Limmer and the Revs. Michael Pfleger, Ciera Bates-Chamberlain and Otis Moss III have joined the Tribune’s opinion section in an exploration of potential solutions to Chicago’s chronic gun violence problem. Their joint column will appear each Friday until Labor Day weekend.
Submit a letter, of no more than 400 words, to the editor here or email letters@chicagotribune.com.