Dear Christians, Jesus wouldn't march. Why we shouldn't either / A.J. Hendry

Today many Christians, encouraged by several vocal Christian leaders with platforms, will choose to march.

For freedom...

For liberty...

For our individual rights...

But, these values are not the values of the Christian Faith, they are the values of the Empire. We who follow Jesus are not called to fight for our own rights, but to lay ourselves down in service of the most vulnerable in our community.

I’ve been wrestling with this, because I know that some of my faith whānau will believe that in marching they are doing just that. That you’re simply standing for your freedom and defending the rights of those who are being marginalized due to the Covid response and who feel unable to use their voice. You might even point at me and argue that just as I would stand up and protest for the things I believe in, why would I want to discourage anyone else from doing the same?

And I get that, your right to protest is your right, but just because we have the freedom to do something? Does that mean we should?

As I’ve listened to the leaders of this protest – and I have listened – I’ve heard them say over and over again that this is about standing for personal liberty, freedom, and our individual rights. I’ve heard them bemoan that they cannot drive down the road, or visit a friend, or plan their day without taking into account the lockdown restrictions. And as I’ve listened, I’ve wondered, where is the Gospel in this?

If you aren’t a Christian yourself, when we Christian’s speak of the Gospel, we are talking about the Kaupapa of our faith. The Gospel, or the Good News, is this idea that the Divine is involved in this world, that God took on flesh to dwell amongst us and becoming human created a way to Liberate us from our own inhumanity, showing us the way of Love, and working towards the Liberation of the most marginalized and oppressed. And now, through the service, sacrifice, and Love of the Divine, this world is being made right, the Divine Dream is coming here on earth, as it is in heaven.

This is our Kaupapa. For us who follow Ihu Karaiti (Jesus) our path is the path of Love, our feet are always to land on the side of the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized.

And so, as we reflect on today’s march, as we question whether we should be attending it or not, I’m stuck with the question who has the most to gain from this protest, and who has the most to lose?

I will leave it for you to reflect upon who gains what from these protests. But, what I would like to do is draw attention to is those who have the most to lose.

Right now, my city of Tāmaki Makaurau, our nation, in fact the world, is dealing with a deadly virus. A disease that if it doesn’t kill you, will potentially give you lifelong chronic health issues. A disease, that if not contained, will spread through this city, this region, our nation, and will overwhelm our health system.

We also know that the people most at risk of being significantly harmed by this virus are our elderly, and people with underlying health conditions. Disproportionately, our māori and pasifika whānau fall into these categories, as do our homeless whānau (young and old), alongside whānau in poverty, and expierencing unsuitable and inhumane housing.

This week it has been highlighted how vulnerable our homeless whānau are, with attention being shone on how difficult it is for whānau in emergency housing to self-isolate when many are living in third world conditions, forced to share facilities in order to shower and cook.

You may be considering going to this march thinking, Covid spread is an acceptable risk for the protection of our freedoms, but if you don’t fall into the above categories, it won’t be you who pays the cost. If you live in a warm, safe, dry home, if your health is solid, and you have no pre-existing conditions, then the hammer is unlikely to fall as hard upon you.

But you know who will be at risk.

The old koro and kui who my colleagues and I supported into Emergency Housing this week.

The young woman that we lost contact with the other night, and we think is likely sleeping on the streets again.

The essential worker’s, and their families and kids, who are out on the frontline, serving our most vulnerable and marginalized every day, hoping beyond hope that COVID doesn’t get into the communities they serve. Praying that they won’t be responsible for infecting their children.

This week politicians have been edging around the question of what an acceptable number of deaths is for the return of our liberties and freedom’s.

I’ve heard many Christians argue that people die, and that it’s crazy to lock up the healthy, to protect the vulnerable.

As I’ve listened to this whakaaro, I haven’t been able to help but see the faces of those I know and love, those who will be harmed by this virus, those who due to years they’ve spent being deprived of their right to housing, healthcare, and a humane standard of living, will most likely fall into the “acceptable loss” category.

It’s easy to make judgements about people’s lives when you don’t know those people.

Not so easy, when those people are your friends and whānau. That so many of us Christians have been able to be so blasé talking about the potential risks and impacts of Covid on our most vulnerable populations perhaps says far more about us as a community, than we might like to admit.

Returning to my initial point, though marching may feel like the right thing for you to do personally, for those most at risk of being significantly harmed by this virus, it could be deadly.

For those of us who follow the Way of Love, Ihu Karaiti calls us to stay home. For the unhoused, for those our society has marginalized, we are invited to lay down our own feelings, to relinquish our own individual liberty, to sacrifice ourselves in order to serve those of our whānau who have the most to lose.

A.J. Hendry is a Laidlaw College graduate, and now a Youth Development Worker and housing advocate, working in the Youth Housing and Homelessness space. He leads a service supporting rangatahi experiencing homelessness and is also a steering group member of Manaaki Rangatahi, a collective working to end youth homelessness in Aotearoa. He is also the curator and creator of When Lambs Are Silent.