The Foundation Is Contemplation
Reverend Liz Walker is the founder of the Can We Talk… network, which creates safe spaces for people to connect through sharing their stories. She describes the importance of contemplative, healing practices to support the work of social justice:
[In contemplative practice] we are fully claiming the space and community we are in. We are seeking help in tending to our suffering. We are honoring our ancestors who testified, danced, and sang their way to transcendence in the midst of chaos and pain. In celebrating those past practices, we gently hold this community in hope and possibility. We trust that whatever needs to be healed will be healed by the Spirit of a creative God who works in and through us….
Dr. [Barbara] Holmes writes that the civil rights movement was born through the contemplative spirit of the Black church.
The spark that ignited the justice movements did not come from the hierarchical institutional black church. Rather, it was the quixotic and limber heart of that institution, its flexible, spiritually open, and mystical center, that ignited first the young people and then their elders to move their symbolic initiatives from ritual ring shouts to processional and contemplative marches. [1]
The contemplative practices of Can We Talk… are no less important than those of the civil rights movement. By lovingly joining our neighbors and sharing our painful stories in the interest of finding peace within our own souls, we are taking seriously the interior work necessary for our collective healing.
Some people would not consider a healing community like ours to be part of a social justice movement. They’d argue that our work is anemic—not the “on the ground” activism necessary to catalyze social change. But such critics may not be aware of the centrality of contemplative action in the work of social movements across history.
They may not be aware of the contemplation that sat at the center of the work of interracial groups of students who, in 1964, protested segregated Presbyterian churches in Memphis, Tennessee, by kneeling in public prayer….
The exterior work of social justice is only as strong as the interior work that births and fuels it. We can’t heal as a community if we do not concern ourselves with healing our inner lives. Storytelling, listening, movement, and music all represent the gentle, interior healing necessary to empower the hard work of social change. During the civil rights movement, Howard Thurman came under criticism for not taking a lead in the marches and protest and activism. But his writing and thinking and contemplative commitments helped the movement remain rooted and grounded in nonviolent resistance.
The people who come to our events may not lead marches or protest efforts against institutional racism. But they participate as truth seekers, unashamed to process their own pain. They show us that authentic joy is reached through a healing process. We help solve our community’s problems when each of us faces our own sorrow, authentically and creatively.
References:
[1] Barbara A. Holmes, Joy Unspeakable: Contemplative Practices of the Black Church, 2nd ed. (Fortress Press, 2017), 113.
Liz Walker, No One Left Alone: A Story of How Community Helps Us Heal (Broadleaf, 2025), 191, 192–193. Used with permission of publisher.
Image credit and inspiration: Paul Tyreman, Untitled (detail), 2018, photo, United Kingdom, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. We walk forward on our own pathway through the sand and stones, aligned and inspired by Spirit.
Story from Our Community:
Giving and receiving kindness has been a continual practice on my healing journey. I truly began healing when I was able to connect deeply with others who had also experienced growing up in a family shaped by alcoholism. I’m so grateful for the care, support, and patience I receive daily from myself and others. Sometimes, when I’m feeling low, the practice of receiving a simple smile or a stranger’s kind “hello” can bring me back to center. Taking it one day at a time, and even one moment at a time, has been key for me.
—Diane J.