Negative Peace

What does peace really mean when justice is unfinished?

In this episode of Faith in the Cracks, we listen again to Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail and reflect on his warning about “negative peace”—the calm that comes from avoiding tension rather than confronting injustice. From Birmingham in 1963 to Minneapolis today, we explore how faith is tested in moments of disruption, and how real peace often asks more of us than comfort allows.

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Welcome to season four of Faith in the Cracks. I'm Pastor Karen Wright. Life has cracks, moments between activities, places where we feel fractured. This is the space where we listen for God in the ordinary moments of life, where we are reminded that just as cracks let things in, it's a space for light and love to shine through. So just like plants grow in the cracks of a sidewalk, let faith grow in the cracks of our lives, trusting that God is at work within us. Episode two Negative Peace Sometimes faith doesn't show up in big declarations. It comes in moments when staying quiet feels easier, safer, more polite, and then choosing differently. This week, as we remember the life and witness of Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I've been sitting with words that he wrote from a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama in 1963. Words that don't offer us rest or ease. King writes about how people praise the police for keeping order and preventing violence. And he says he doubts that praise would have come so easily if those same people had seen police dogs biting unarmed nonviolent protesters. Now, having been to Kelly Ingram Park a few years ago in Birmingham, where the water cannons and dogs were used against nonviolent protesters, including the Children's Crusade. A square that sits across the street from 16th Street Baptist Church, where four young girls were killed in a bombing. And then I think about the images we've seen in this past week, and the modern version of this as ice uses tear gas against a crowd, pepper spray into the vents of cars against those who would protest. And many times not because the protesters were actually violent, but simply because they were protesting. What struck me is King isn't arguing about whether order matters. His question is about order for whom? And at whose expense. Today, when protests erupt, whether they're about racial injustice or immigration or climate or war or economic inequality, the first concern often isn't the injustice itself. It's the disruption, the noise, the discomfort. We all want things to be calmer, for life to feel manageable. And King reminds us that that calm can be very misleading. In his writing, King lifts up people who rarely get called heroes. He talks about the sit-inners, the students facing hostile crowds, the pioneers walking alone, the elderly women who exhausted by oppression, yet still choose dignity. He tells a story of a 72-year-old woman who stopped riding segregated buses. And when asked if she was tired, she said, My feet is tired, but my soul is rested. Then King turns his attention to people like many of us, people of faith, people of good will. And King confesses that he's been deeply disappointed by the white moderate. Not because they oppose justice, but because they prefer what he calls negative peace. The absence of tension instead of positive peace, which is the presence of justice. And that phrase negative peace stuck out to me. The absence of tension comes from a desire to be comfortable, to avoid conflict, and to delay change or wait until the timing feels better, or whatever our excuses does not create peace. And it's the same when you say, I agree with the cause, but not the protest. I agree with the goal, but not the method. I agree with justice, but I wish it weren't so disruptive. And see, that's the problem. Because currently in Minneapolis, there are people who say that those folks shouldn't be disrupting federal agents. Yet those folks who are out protesting are seeking justice and human dignity for everyone in their community. And so what are we devoted to? Are we devoted to order or to justice? And then King challenges the idea that things will fix themselves on their own. He says time is neutral and it can be used to heal or to entrench harm. Telling people to wait often means asking them to keep suffering quietly so others don't have to be disturbed. And I feel like that's what we keep hearing. I feel like I've been a part of that too. Just keep suffering quietly so we don't bother the rest of people. And King talks about that that shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than outright opposition. And then King embraces a label that has been used against him. He gets called an extremist. And King asks, Was not Jesus an extremist in love? Was not Amos an extremist for justice? So what are we going to be extreme for? Comfort or compassion? Order or justice? Quiet? Or a love that refuses to stay quiet? You see, faith sometimes looks like choosing the tension over denying somebody justice. And so I think about King's word, and may we be reminded that peace without justice isn't peace. And faith often shows up not when things are settled, but is developed in the unsettled. And so as we remember Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., may we also remember all of those in the civil rights who stood up, who stood up because justice needed a push. And may we continue to stand with those who are still seeking justice. May we stand not for order, but for love and compassion and for justice. Until next time. Thanks for listening. New podcasts are released every Monday. If you like the show, share it with a friend, or scroll to the bottom of the episode description and support the show for the cost of a cup of coffee once a month. You can also check out my webpage at faithinthecracks.com. As you go through your week, remember you are a child of God and you are love. May God seep into the cracks and bring forth new life.