Diversity and Faith
By Vincent Patton
When we initially came up with this topic a few months back while our Sunday service committee was preparing the summer schedule – I had somewhat a different focus in mind at the time. However, since freshly returning from the annual UU General Assembly in Fort Worth this past week, which by the way was FANTASTIC, my discussion on this topic will have a different twist. Partly because of what sessions I was involved with during GA, and I certainly do not want to lose site of today being the eve of the 229th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
A few months back, Rev. Lou made mention in a sermon entitled “Beliefs and Principles,” which he focused on the origin of our faith’s “seven principles,” its meaning and purpose as we worship in a liberal religious atmosphere. Without getting too much into repeating everything from Rev Lou’s sermon, one of the most important elements that I came away from after listening to him was this interesting quote from former president of the UUA, The Rev. John Buehrens, who said:
". . .while we are called upon, individually, to face the question, ‘What do I believe?' the question we should face together isn't the creedal one, 'What do we believe in common?' Rather it's the covenantal question, 'What are we willing to promise one another? In what hope? And with what sources of support, inspiration, and judgment as to our faithfulness?' "
Those words seem to have hit home for me, as I reflect back on several significant events in my life where my faith was put to the test, and challenged because of what I believe in as a devoted Unitarian Universalist.
Many, if not all of you now know, that I enjoyed a wonderful 30 year career in the U. S. Coast Guard, retiring in 2002 as the service’s senior-most enlisted member with the rank and position as the Master Chief Petty Officer of the Coast Guard. I’m not making mention of this from a “bragger’s rights” perspective – but rather I owe a tremendous amount of my success to being raised as a Unitarian Universalist, which my family has been so proud to be a part of, and the fact that it has been my trust in the faith of my religious beliefs, and the words of our seven principles:
· The inherent worth and dignity of every person;
· Justice, equality, and compassion in human relations;
· Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;
· A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;
· The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;
· The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all;
· Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.
Each of these seven principles have a special meaning to me, as I can relate a specific event or instances to where I was called upon or challenged to where my faith became a modeled example to help guide me to making the right choice or doing the right thing.
Case in point, early in my career, I held an administrative assignment as an equal opportunity advisor to the Commander for the Ninth Coast Guard District in Cleveland, Ohio. This was the regional command for all Coast Guard units along the Great Lakes area. With an area expanding from Duluth, Minnesota to the north and west, Chicago to the south, and Alexandria Bay, NY along the St Lawrence Seaway to the east, became a wide and varied coverage where I traveled to the 165 Coast Guard units, visiting over 3,000 Coastguardsmen. My job was to perform a couple of responsibilities, facilitate the annual required unit wide training on civil rights and human relations, and to assess the cultural climate where these units were located, as many were in areas where little or no minorities resided; or units where few women were assigned.
It was actually a great job. It allowed me to take advantage of utilizing my recently earned master’s degree in counseling, and I love to teach. The job was also challenging, as I would venture into locations in this part of the country, where the local citizens in the area were not used to seeing an African American, or sometimes any other minority in their “neighborhood,” unless they were housekeepers, restaurant service, or landscape workers. I can recall my visit to the Coast Guard Station in Escanaba, Michigan, where I stopped at the local hotel to check in, and the desk clerk said, “Are you lost or something? Detroit’s a long way from here.”
Comments like that were common, sometimes I would get what I would call, “the full treatment,” where hotel desk clerks, restaurant waiters and waitresses, and even the local police would give me the ‘stare down,’ and would ask what I was doing there. Never mind the fact that I would be in uniform. But it was treatment like that, which served as a reminder to me, that here in this period in the early 1980’s, the understanding of diversity hasn’t quite reached in these parts of our country.
I had been heckled, called names, and ignored, by people who would quickly say of how proud they are to be an American. Yet, to see someone who is serving their country, and have taken a vested interest in insuring that the safety of those in their community who take to the waters for recreational or as a vocation – it mattered that I did not look like them. This problem was evidently consistent with a number of minorities that the Coast Guard would transfer to these areas, which we had labeled as “minority sensitive areas.”
During my assignment, I made a conscience decision that one of two things had to happen. First, I despised the term, “minority sensitive area,” for it meant that people of color were not only welcomed in this region, but it would become a ‘rule’ to where you are not allowed to set foot into this location. It was no different than the “Jim Crow” laws of the south before the passing of the Civil Rights Act in 1964. Secondly, it would mean to the people of that area that they had “won,” where the Coast Guard, being a government agency and military service was being dictated to where people could be assigned.
This was not an easy problem to solve as you can imagine. First of all, it was about changing attitudes of people, who for the most part I had little or no control over. Sure, I could make it so that all of the Coastguardsmen assigned to that location ensure that they take care and look out for one another, but once the minority member was off duty and would venture into town, that’s where the control ended.
Another problem I would encounter would be, is it the right thing to do for a minority member to assign him or her in these often known harassing situations, where the member would be subjected to some of the same kinds of discriminatory actions that I had faced, or worse, where some were physically threatened, or their vehicles and homes vandalized, or their children would encounter problems in the school system.
The answer was rather simple; convince the Coast Guard that if our people aren’t welcomed in this area, then move the station or the cutter that was assigned there. When I posed the question to the district commander, a two-star admiral name, Rear Admiral Henry Bell, he thought I was nuts. A few moments later, he thought about it, and knew that I was right. The answer was not to take the ‘easy way out,’ being passive on the issue and keeping the stations to fit the cultural climate of the area, but rather ensure that the Coast Guard fully complied with all aspects of civil rights, protecting our members and their families, and standing up to a law, and enforcing the true meaning of the Constitution of the United States.
With a little help from the lawyers of the Department of Justice Office of Civil Rights, (yes, they can be good for something) letters were sent to the mayors, municipal council members, state and U.S. congressional representatives and senators. The letters were not as much in a “threatening or confrontational tone,” although some took it that way, but a clear reminder of the Coast Guard’s mission in this area, its contribution to the community at large as far as economic impact, and the number of lives saved during search and rescue missions. The letter ended with addressing the need for civic leaders to get out in front of promoting civil rights and human relations in their community, and addressing instances where minority Coastguardsmen were not welcomed. The closing to the letter was, if the situation cannot change in this area, the Coast Guard will simply move on to an area where this will not be a problem.
Dateline, March, 1981, a young Coast Guard petty officer with a wife and two young daughters after graduating from electrician’s mate school, received orders to the U. S. Coast Guard Cutter Mackinaw, an icebreaker, in Cheboygan, Michigan. The petty officer is African American, his wife is Caucasian. Upon their arrival in the Cheboygan area, this is in the far north part of the “mitten” in Michigan’s lower peninsula, a few miles from the Mackinac Bridge which takes you to the upper peninsula. The Scott family endured days of harassment from some of the citizens in the town. After about of month of this, the commanding officer of the Cutter Mackinaw calls my office to seek assistance. His recommendation was to transfer Petty Officer Scott to another area where he and his family would not encounter the bigotry and problems that they are enduring. When I talked with Petty Officer Scott afterwards, as I wanted to make sure that it would be his request to leave the area, as was part of our policy – Scott informed me that he felt that he and his family could make a go of it, as his wife’s family lived not far away from Cheboygan. What he told me was, the civil authorities didn’t seem very responsive when his wife called after finding garbage dumped on their lawn, or when their car antenna was broken off. The answer was, “…these are common everyday pranks that happens to everyone in this area, so it’s not singling you out.”
My recommendation was to put our letter on civil rights to the test. After a discussion with the district commander, Rear Admiral Bell makes a phone call to Michigan U. S. Senator Carl Levin, who at that time was in his freshman term. Rear Admiral Bell advised Senator Levin of the problem, and my recommendation to inform the township of Cheboyban of the situation, and to assist in rectifying this problem, or the Coast Guard would be forced to move to a new location.
This would have been a catastrophe to a small town of about 5,000 or so, where the Mackinaw, a 289 foot icebreaker with a crew of about 100, would single-handedly keep waterborne commerce moving during the icy cold months of the winter, clearing shipping channels of ice, allowing the iron ore carriers from the nearby plants to move their cargo to various industrial areas in the Great Lakes. Keeping waterborne commerce moving during the winter months meant keeping people employed. Also the Cutter Mackinaw is a massive ship, which the local area would provide fuel, food and other necessities for the ship to perform its mission, as well as the crew’s contribution to the local economy. For years, the ship was a “political hot potato” where a number of cities in the Great Lakes wanted to have the “Mighty Mac” homeported there, mostly for its economic advantage. The loss of the Mackinaw in Cheboygan would indeed have a detrimental impact to the community.
So what happened? The town took responsibility – the kind of responsibility that it should take. More rapid response from the police on calls of such nature. Neighbors, no longer turning their backs with a “see no evil, hear no evil” mentality; and the school system beginning to incorporate human relations training with the teachers and the students. It was a hand that was forced, so to speak – but this incident became widely known throughout the Great Lakes region; and soon, other communities began to take note.
While this was an event that I was proudly commended for, my reason for addressing this incident is one such example of what living your faith everyday can do. Some might argue that my pure stubbornness or even arrogance is what caused the chain of events to work themselves out. I will accept it as either criticism or praise, the end result follows to what we Unitarian Universalists do in fact have an “inherent worth and dignity of every person;” and that “justice, equity, and compassion in human relations.” This is not something that occurs by osmosis or by accident.
Living the faith is what I was taught as a child. It is why I remain a devoted Unitarian Universalist today. When I chose a military career, I also chose to remain true to faith an beliefs, and to know that as with anything in life, you often come to the crossroads of where your occupation and your beliefs will encounter an ethical challenge.
Some years ago, a dear friend of mine asked why I remain in a religious denomination that has so few minorities, especially African Americans. Wouldn’t I be more comfortable in a congregation more of “my own kind?” His question gave me pause, yet an invigorating conviction to my response – I’m here because life is all about change, and about diversity in life.
My mother always told me that, “change will never come, if you aren’t part of the reason for change.” She actually made this comment to me, when I joined the Coast Guard in 1972. It was my father who was a little concerned about my becoming part of an organization where at the time when I joined, the Coast Guard had less than four percent minorities, and that’s combining all minority groups, not just African-American. He worried that I would end up in a place like Cheboygan, Michigan, as he was well aware of the number of Coast Guard installations throughout the country that were located in affluent or “minority sensitive” areas because of his military service, and knowing people who had served in the Coast Guard. My mother on the other hand, realized that I had continued on the path that I was taught, very well by her, and through my sincere interest in being a Unitarian Universalist.
Today, I continue with the focus on my faith and our importance to promote the understanding of diversity. I took a rather bold move immediately after retiring in 2002, to join an organization called, the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network, which I am also an honorary member of their board of directors. Also known by the acronym ‘SLDN,’ the organization believes in allowing people who serve in today’s military without regard to sexual orientation, to be open and honest about who they are. SLDN assists military members who are being processed for discharge on the Department of Defense policy known as “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” helping them fight their discharges, and assuring that those who are separated are not given derogatory discharge codes that prevent them for access to veteran benefits. SLDN has also prepared a legal brief for future presentation to the U. S. Supreme Court to address that this policy is unconstitutional on the grounds of discrimination.
It most certainly is considered a ‘bold move’ for me to become part of this organization, given the high-ranking status in my last position on active duty, and was required to enforce the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” where gay and lesbian military personnel are allowed to serve, but not openly. I didn’t agree with the policy while I was on active duty, and I certainly don’t agree with it now, and have chosen to continue to follow the words of my mother and the heart of my faith to a part of change.
According to SLDN, almost 10,000 military personnel have been separated in the last ten years under this policy, simply because of their sexual orientation. As a taxpayer, I’m outraged, as the vast majority of these people discharged have been trained in highly technical and operational skills costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. As an American, I am disappointed and bothered that there are able minded and talented people who should be given the same opportunities that I have enjoyed in my military career. As an African American, I see discrimination, not in the same sense as I have endured because of the color of my skin, but the denial of an opportunity to serve because of bigotry. As a Unitarian Universalist, I am following the values of my faith, and become a part of the solution.
All of our military services’ core values includes the words ‘Honor’ or ‘Integrity,’ meaning, as part of a military service member’s condition of employment, they must be open, honest and truthful. Yet at the same time, a military policy exists to tell these very same servicemembers to lie if they are gay or lesbian.
It’s a dilemma; no make that a contradiction in terms that clearly goes against the service’s condition of employment. Most surprising to me is how today, we are having difficulty in attracting and recruiting young people to serve in the military, where they take an oath of allegiance to “…support and defend the Constitution of the United States…” exclude a group of Americans solely because of their sexual orientation. What worse, I find it rather appalling that this very policy restricts intelligent and physically capable people who WANT to serve.
Now, my point here is not to make a political stand on the pulpit – but rather re-state what was said from the very beginning of this sermon with a quote from the Reverend Dr. John Buehrens,
". . .while we are called upon, individually, to face the question, ‘What do I believe?' the question we should face together isn't the creedal one, 'What do we believe in common?' In what hope? And with what sources of support, inspiration, and judgment as to our faithfulness?' "
The inspiring words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., recited earlier this morning by Jacki Arnold.
“Our world is a neighborhood. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.”
And I will continue to be inspired by my mother, Elizabeth Patton’s words:
“Change will never come, if you aren’t part of the reason for change.”
Blessed be. Amen.