Regardless of our colliding political beliefs, most Americans would agree this country is experiencing a crisis of identity. Political and social structures once considered dependable, have lost our trust. Ideals about democracy are more fluid than ever. Nothing is as we once thought it would be. Our sense of security, certainty, and even hope, are threatened by a daily barrage of extreme events – televised and uploaded wars, terrorist attacks, mass shootings and natural disasters. Whether we admit or even realize it, these events are changing how we see the world and ourselves. Overwhelmed with anxiety, distrust and fear, we continue to change our mindsets, moving from “We the people” to “us against them”, whoever and wherever they are.
This is much more than a political shift. Clinically, these are the symptoms of collective trauma, a term coined by sociologist Kai Erikson in describing the aftermath of a devastating 1972 flood in Buffalo Creek, West Virginia, when individual responses to extreme experiences deal “a blow to the basic tissue of social life damaging the bonds attaching people together.” I think a spiritual diagnosis is more succinct. The epidemic shock, stress, and disconnect that we are all experiencing reflect the growing burdens of a collective broken heart.
Is healing possible? Can strained and torn connections be restored?
Every Sunday, preachers stand up in pulpits to offer words of hope and healing. We lead worship, teach God’s encouraging word, and we pray. And yet we too often feel overwhelmed. We too often avoid the hard questions about emotional brokenness, and hopelessness. We love to preach “Joy comes in the morning” but very rarely can we offer insight into making it through the weeping at night. There is so much darkness around these days. Can battered hope be revived? Is collective healing possible?
In 2014, in the pulpit of Roxbury Presbyterian Church in Boston, MA, I struggled with the same questions, recognizing the same kind of emotional epidemic in our community, the result of a rash of gun violence that left scores of young Black men dead and hundreds, if not thousands, of their family members, friends, and associates devastated and lost. One of those deaths was a young man who belonged to my church, Cory Johnson. Praying at a family memorial service honoring Cory a year after his death, I could feel the hurt, confusion, and rage simmering beneath the celebration. Time had done nothing to heal their wounds. Moved by Spirit, I reached out to Cory’s family and sat down to listen. Courageously, they agreed to talk more about their unspeakable experience and with the help of leaders from our church and the mental health community, we created the Can We Talk…® Sharing for Trauma and Healing, regularly scheduled gatherings in the church basement where wounded neighbors can process pain in a safe environment by breaking bread, and sharing stories of trauma, grief, and hope.
Carving out public space and time for intentional reflection and togetherness shouldn’t be limited to any one religious tradition or ritual but should be accessible to all. After eleven years of hosting the Can We Talk ® gatherings, our community has learned that this kind of public lamentation is a very tangible way to tend to the emotional and spiritual wounds that we all carry. People who participate say they feel released from the heaviness of their struggles. Their pain doesn’t disappear, but they say they can view it from a different perspective. They feel less alone.
All our sites, in communities like Boston; New York City; Gary, Indiana; Chattanooga, Tennessee; and Sarasota, Florida are sustained by a small but committed group of people who believe in the power of sacred fellowship.
We tend to think of fellowship as a church word restricted to worship or special gatherings, when in fact, it is more about genuine, thoughtful, and loving connection anywhere. Theologian Howard Thurman saw it as an antidote to hatred. He maintained that hatred, a root of injustice, is fed by a superficial connection. “In the first place, hatred often begins in a situation in which there is contact without fellowship, contact that is devoid of any of the primary overtures of warmth and fellow-feeling and genuineness.” Until humanity is drawn more to authentic healing connections that originate in loving and open hearts, hatred and injustice will continue.
The exterior work of healing will only be as strong as the interior work that births and fuels it. We can’t heal as a community if we do not concern ourselves with healing our inner lives. The storytelling, listening, movement, and music, all part of a Can We Talk…® gathering cultivate the gentle work of interior healing.
Replicated in 20 sites around the country, and growing, Can We Talk…® offers an opportunity to do church in a new way, bonding around the commonality of pain and the mutuality of mercy. Without preaching or judgment, the community reflects on the simple yet profound notion that we are all wounded, and the wounded heal best together.
Can We Talk ® gatherings are distinct from worship services in many ways. Our gatherings are open to anyone, with no specific requirements or expectations. We meet regularly, with no expiration dates placed on grief or pain. Our gatherings are designed for open and honest sharing, without response or judgment or quick fixes. There are no hierarchies, no ritualized resolutions. We simply “weep with those who weep” and “rejoice with those who rejoice”. And in forming these healing gatherings we learn how to restore the sacredness of listening to each other and to God.
The people who come to our gatherings may not lead marches or protest efforts. They may not write editorials. But they are part of a movement, of truth seekers, unashamed to process and share their pain. They show us that genuine healing can be reached through a collective process.
As more of us create safe spaces where we can learn to speak authentically and listen closely, we will begin to understand the power of emotional reciprocity, where individuals feel heard, understood, and supported – allowing God in each of us, to heal broken hearts, one person, one community at a time.
Check out Rev. Liz Walker on A Matter of Faith: A Presby Podcast
Reverend Liz Walker, Founding Director of the Can We Talk Network and Author of No One Left Alone -A Story of How Community Helps Us Heal.
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