The Discerning Commemorator

This past May 28, Harvard University’s press office announced that a faculty committee had advised the President that the university should cease from “issu[ing] official statements about public matters that do not directly affect the university’s core function” (reported in the The Harvard Crimson). Interim President Alan Garber and the Harvard Cooperation endorsed and adopted the recommendation.

And why wouldn’t they? The Corporation has had a painful year, as evidenced by the fact that they have an Interim President at all and probably wouldn’t were it not for the heat of scrutiny to which their 2023 inauguree was exposed after issuing statements about Israel and Hamas. That heat exposed secrets from the past and melted resolve to stay the course. I’m sure President Garber and the Corporation were desperate to see the Yard clear out for the summer so that everyone could pause and reflect: what in heaven’s name just happened? This can’t go on.

In issuing statements about the war in Israel-Palestine, Harvard acknowledged that something horrible happened and was continuing to happen in a part of the world close to the hearts of many of their constituents. Perhaps leaders felt they needed to say something, for their silence would otherwise be deafening. But when powerful institutions acknowledge any kind of event, they make it real in a new way. There’s no neutrality in confirmation, acknowledgement, or commemoration.

Yesterday, the school I serve, Andover Newton Seminary at Yale Divinity School, partnered with our sister Christian organization, Dixwell Avenue United Church of Christ, to mark Juneteenth. The oldest Congregational Seminary and the oldest historically Black Congregational Church joined together in “Lift Every Voice and Sing” and reflected on the past, present, and future of racial reconciliation in our nation. I greeted the gathered community on behalf of Andover Newton. Here were some of my words:

Juneteenth is by-nature fraught, as it embodies how difficult it is to know how to mark the end of something evil; something that never should have happened, endured far too long, and overshadows us today. […]

When I was a college student here in New Haven, I majored in Ethics, Politics, & Economics. I later studied theology, ministry, and higher education administration. In all those years, I never heard of an academic discipline that’s now on my mind almost every day: the ethics of commemoration.

I was first introduced to the field of inquiry by my historian colleague Tisa Wenger, who offered a lecture for us at Andover Newton on the ethics of commemorating Andover Newton’s history of missions. Specifically, Andover and Yale graduates made up the first mission to Hawai‘i, and we wanted to mark the 2019 bicentennial of that event, knowing that whereas missionaries’ intentions might have been good, their impacts were nothing if not mixed.

The study of the ethics of commemoration considers questions like this: if we mark an anniversary, are we automatically indicating that we think the event we’re marking was good? What does it mean when we commemorate something terrible, like an assassination, or a crime against humanity? If we believe that those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it, must we commemorate so we won’t forget? […]

We co-memorate, which literally means that we remember together. This remembering together is the very essence of what it means to be a faith community, even a faith community that meets just one time, as we’re gathering together today. Come, let us remember together.

What I didn’t share in my remarks was that Andover Newton’s early attempts to mark Juneteenth back in 2020 drew criticism. The evite to our first Juneteenth service — online due to the pandemic, and three short weeks after the killing of George Floyd — described the event as marking the end of slavery. Several constituents took issue with that language. Of course, legal slavery had ended two years previous to the date when we celebrate Juneteenth; word took a long time to get to Texas.

I wanted to reply to those who pushed back that we’d cribbed the language for the invitation off the official Juneteenth Web site, realizing that we were doing something new, trusting the experts. I wanted to say lots of things, including, “Fine; we’ll never commemorate anything ever again.” As my head cooled, as it must for leaders to function, learning emerged. The criticism taught me, yet again and in a new way, that injustice has a long tail. Its refusal to just roll over and die is impossible to accept and will always leave us tender and raw. We take out our tenderness on our leaders, as it’s they who dare to try.

I’m not saying, by any stretch, that Harvard is giving up trying. I actually believe they’re right to refrain from making statements about non-missional topics. To speak out on everything rings of hubris. Jewish and Muslim students in the US are minorities who already felt vulnerable on their campuses before October 7, 2023. No matter the contents of a university’s statements it’s likely that some among those already marginalized will be further hurt. Without a missional responsibility to speak, that hurt is hard to justify.

In his sermon at our shared Juneteenth service yesterday, Professor Clifton Granby talked about the importance of discernment. Individuals and institutions alike have to think carefully about where and how they add their voices and stake out positions. It sounds like that’s what Harvard is trying to do, and I take a lesson from Prof. Granby’s words, Harvard’s decisions, and my own experiences of receiving push-back. Here are some take-aways: A discerning leader…

1. Assumes that every statement they make carries the weight of their institution, not just their own voice, no matter the setting.
2. Accepts they can’t commemorate and acknowledge every single thing that happens in the world without diluting the impact of their words.
3. Knows that their words will be taken out of context, misinterpreted, extrapolated upon, interpolated between, and just generally twisted, because every hearer is different.

These cautions give leaders pause, and that’s a good thing. Public statements and commemorations of events come with the risk of drawing heat, hurting feelings, or getting feelings hurt. The cause must be worth it. But in the right conditions, we need leaders to speak out. If the default becomes keeping our heads down, the wrong heads will be the only ones heard.

Evidently, LGBTQIA+ Pride merch has not done as well this June as in the recent past, so Target and other retailers are cutting back on trying to sell it. I suspect Juneteenth memorabilia’s profits will fade in the years to come, too. These data points remind us that capitalism can’t be the driver of commemoration. We need our moral leaders to step up and convene us. It makes sense that moral leaders need to think harder than ever before about the ethics of commemoration, but we need them not to quit. Our society can’t trust markets or politicians with the entirety of the sacred task of bringing us together to remember.