Waiting on change Local faith leaders push for policing reform
Religious leaders have a deep-rooted history of involvement in social-justice movements. From Martin Luther King Jr. preaching for justice through the civilrights movement to hundreds of congregations nationwide offering sanctuary to Central American refugees, activism guided by one's faith is nothing new.
Government officials have often heeded the cries of faith leaders on these issues, either through their shared beliefs or because of the influence religious leaders hold in their communities. In Columbus, however, some local faith leaders say they are in a gridlock with city officials, most notably with Mayor Andrew J. Ginther, on issues surrounding policing and the killings of Black men.
On Dec. 23 – just one day after Columbus police officer Adam Coy shot and killed an unarmed 47-year-old Black man named Andre Hill – 30 local pastors, rabbis and other religious leaders penned a letter to Ginther and Columbus Public Safety Director Ned Pettus Jr. It was drafted, signed and sent within six hours of learning of Hill's death, said the Rev. Tim Ahrens, senior minister of First Congregational Church Downtown and co-facilitator of The Area Religious Coalition.
But more than two weeks after sending the letter, Ahrens said they're still waiting for a formal, meaningful response from Ginther or Pettus.
Their letter, which called for urgent and serious changes within the Columbus Division of Police, opened with a bold declaration: “We are outraged.”
“We don't need your angry words. We need your resolve to stop the killing. Now,” they wrote to the mayor. “We need policy changes, accountability, truth and transparency.”
bunch of hooligans and conspiracy nuts who openly defiled the Capitol on Wednesday. That such patriots, driven by staggering ignorance and a wholly imagined list of wrongs, would under its roof fly the flags of the Confederacy and of their one-term sore loser, their golden-plated idol.
Stumped, I turned to U.S. history. I looked through civics lessons for elementary school children. I recited the “Pledge of Allegiance” more than once, and more than once I wondered how long we’ve got before we burn it all down.
Then I landed on the video of the naturalization ceremony from 18 months ago, where even well-worn phrases from the standard court session opening seemed to carry new weight: “God save the United States and this honorable court.”
This particular ceremony brought together 111 new citizens. Roughly evenly split between men and women, they were a patchwork of races and ages, from 19 to 76. They came from 35 countries, which they announced one by one, passing a microphone through the rows: Somalia, Bhutan, Iraq.
Mexico, Morocco, Mauritania. Russia, Canada, Taiwan. Jamaica, Pakistan, Romania. They dressed for the occasion, and my mind jumped to my grandfather, a German immigrant and a house painter
by trade. I was reminded of an old photograph that depicted him and a few other men receiving pins from the local painters’ union. If it seems like not a big deal, it clearly was to them. They were wearing three-piece suits.
This ceremony, of course, was a much bigger deal.
Councilman Mitchell Brown, himself looking sharp in a beige suit jacket and navy bowtie, grinned as he began speaking.
“I love the fact that all of you have flags,” he said. “It is so, so cool. And feel free to wave them as much as you wish.”
They happily obliged. Councilwoman Elizabeth Brown thanked them for the sacrifices they had made to reach this point.
“Your journey is what has made America the country we are,” she said. “Over the centuries, journeys like yours have made us.”
Sargus told them that America as mosaic is a more accurate image than America as “melting pot.”
“Each new group to America adds a new shade, a new color, a new definition, all of which combine to make the mosaic that much the better,” he said.
“I am grateful for your belief in this country,” said Michael Corey, executive director of the Human Service Chamber of Franklin County. “It is a belief that America is not yet finished.”
Corey quoted the poet, Langston Hughes:
O, let America be America again — The land that never has been yet — And yet must be — the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine — the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME — Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Mitchell Brown led the room in the “Pledge of Allegiance.”
Then Sargus thanked the new citizens a final time.
“The fate and the future of our country is as much in your hands as it is in the hands of any other American,” he said. “I urge you to work to preserve all which is good in this country, but also to work to improve that which is in need of improvement.”
The session was gaveled to a close. Some of these citizens hailed from countries such as Haiti, Niger, and Sierra Leone, places wracked by poverty, famine or recent civil war. They knew how fragile this gift was. They took their seats to await their certificates, and whatever else might lie in store. tdecker@dispatch.com @Theodore_decker