Power of Symbols

Rev. Peter Friedrichs

February 3, 2008

Before I begin today, I thought I'd give a little "pop quiz." If you're like me, those very words, "pop quiz," cause your heart to beat faster, your palms to get sweaty, and your ears to start ringing. But let me put your mind at ease; this quiz is a real "no-brainer" and I won't be keeping score. It's easy, really. I'm going to hold up a bunch of pictures, and I want you to call out what they mean. I want you to tell me what these signs and symbols represent or stand for. If we had a way to dim the lights in the Sanctuary, I'd project these up on the wall, but for today we're going to go "low-tech." Ready? Here goes…[stop, ped xing, rr xing, playground] See, I told you this was easy. Let's keep going…[chalice, star of david, cross, crucifix, crescent] This one's a bit fuzzy, but hopefully you can make it out…["Ohm"] How about this one? [biohazard] There are often different signs that mean the same thing ["V", dove, then peace] and with a slight variation in an image, it can completely change the meaning [MB Logo]. If you were alive in the early 1960's, this one is probably familiar [fallout shelter], and I'll give you a hint about this one -it's related to the one before it [radiation]. Now, these might be a little harder [several European traffic signs].

Words themselves are symbols, too. So now I'd like you to close your eyes and visualize what I mean when I say the following words. "Rain." "Mountain." "Beach."

There, that wasn't so bad, was it? You did really well with most of those, so I'll give you all an "A" for the day! I'd like to take a few minutes talking about symbols and their meaning, and then I'm going to speak to two specific symbols in our culture.

The first thing I'd like to point out, something that you probably noticed from our little exercise, is that many symbols hold specific and accepted meanings. They are deeply embedded in our society and they're neither ambiguous nor subject to interpretation. When we see a red octagonal sign, we know it means "Stop," and when we see a round, yellow sign with an "X" bordered by two "R's," we know that there's a railroad crossing up ahead. These signs and symbols are a short-hand way of communicating vital information to a broad spectrum of people. From the time we're young we've seen these signs, and we learned their meaning at an early age.

What's interesting is that many of the signs that I showed you toward the end of the quiz, the ones with the red circles and triangles that contained an image in the middle, are traffic signs, too, just like our "stop" and "yield" and "pedestrian crossing signs." Yet many of us weren't sure of their meaning, were we? These symbols were foreign to us, so we had to guess what they meant. I had no idea what the symbol that looked like a car with a giant seashell on its roof meant until I read it. These signs are European traffic signs, and to millions of people they are just as clear and specific in their meaning as a big red octagon is to us. Where we might have thought that the red triangle with the circular arrows in the middle was intended to encourage us to reduce, reuse and recycle, to the average Frenchman it says, "watch out, you're approaching a traffic rotary." So the meaning of a symbol may be obvious to us. But we can't assume that it's obvious to others.

Now some of you may be thinking that a sign isn't really a "symbol." It's more like an order or command or a warning in short-hand form, and that's true. But even traffic signs are symbols when you consider that the signs are not the things themselves, but rather indicators that point us to the thing itself. That, in essence, is the definition of a symbol. Symbols stand in the stead of the thing that they represent. They conjure up in our minds the images of those things. The sign that shows two children on a see-saw brings to our mind the image of children running and playing, and having fun, the image of a playground. The peace sign, in its various forms, isn't peace itself, but it represents the idea of peace, however the viewer may choose to construe that. In today's reading, Judy Brown calls up the image of a fire, a fire expertly built and tended, burning brightly. Her description of a fire - how it needs logs that aren't packed too tightly together, how it needs the right mixture of fuel and air to burn well and long - isn't just describing the principles of combustion and heat. Brown's fire stands as a symbol for human community, where we are in constant search of just the right balance of activity and rest, commitment and quiet, fire and air, to sustain us as we work together to bring about our fulfillment and that of others.

Another phenomenon that you may have noticed as we were looking at the symbols was that the context matters. If you recall, I showed you a series of symbols that represented different religions. But then I threw in a symbol some of you were perhaps not familiar with. As you were trying to sort out its possible meaning, many of you may have found your mind cycling through all the possible religions you could think of, trying to put this symbol into that context. Some of you may even have discerned religious elements in the symbol. But as it turned out, it wasn't a religious symbol at all. All of the elements surrounding the symbol - the place it is located, when it is shown, how big it is in comparison to its surroundings, who is displaying it and the way it's displayed - are all vital information that we use to try and make sense of the symbol. If you didn't know what this sign meant ["radiation sign"], if it was displayed on the door to the x-ray room in a hospital, where you saw a technician wearing a lead apron to protect himself, these clues would help you to interpret its meaning as a warning about possible radiation.

And this leads me to my final point about symbols. We each bring our own meaning to the symbols that we seek to interpret. Human beings are meaning-making machines. We seek to make sense out of what we observe and experience, and we do so by trying to fit those observations and experiences into the catalog of our own personal histories. When we see symbols whose meanings are uncertain, that are in some way ambiguous to us, we not only seek clues as to their meaning from the surrounding context. We interpret them according to our own experience, our own perspective and our own internal landscape. This is the reason that two people can interpret a symbol to have completely different meanings. Neither is right nor wrong. They are just different. While some of us may look at this symbol, the crucifix, and see a bloody mess that represents torture and man's inhumanity to man, a devout Catholic will view this symbol as a representation of the redemptive power of suffering and the sacrificial atonement of the Lord so that we may all have everlasting life. And when I asked you to visualize rain, or a mountain or a beach, I'm willing to bet that no two of you called to mind exactly the same image in your minds.

All of this discussion about symbols and how we make sense of them is preparation for what I want to talk with you about today: two very powerful symbols in our society. One is the American flag. The other is the hangman's noose. The noose has been in the news quite a bit in the past several months, and I'll get to that in a few minutes. But first, I'd like to spend a few minutes talking about the flag.

Many of you are aware that one of our members has proposed that we display an American flag on a flagpole out by our street sign, somewhere near our rainbow flag sculpture that we dedicated last spring. I won't tell you who has made this proposal because it's not important. But what is important is that this person is one of the older members of our church, someone who served our country in World War II and thereafter. I'll call her Jane. I've had several conversations with Jane, and she has made it clear to me that she wants nothing more than to honor the country that she's served and the country that has given her the freedom to exercise the religion of her choice. For Jane, there is no ambiguity about the flag as a symbol. It stands for democracy and freedom, pure and simple, and she finds it hard to understand how her proposal could be at all controversial.

But the flag is a symbol. And because it's a symbol, it's subject to interpretation. It is, in fact, subject to a wide and diverse number of interpretations. And displaying it on our church property will make it subject to even wider and more diverse interpretations than it might otherwise have, were it displayed on a government building, or a school, or perhaps even flown from a home. Like other symbols, the flag has certain cultural connotations. And its meaning is influenced by the context in which it is displayed. And you can't help but bring your own personal experiences, your biases and your preferences, into the interpretation process.

You may or may not have noticed that there's an American flag here in the Sanctuary. It's back in the corner, by the organ. This flag has been here since before I arrived, and I'm told that someone, anonymously and after hours, brought it in here. That very act, to say nothing of the flag's presence in our sacred space, is full of unknown meaning. What message did the person who brought it here wish to send? Why did he or she do it secretly? What does it say about our community that the person felt like he or she had to be clandestine about it? As for the flag itself, what does it mean to have this symbol in the place where we worship? Does it represent the values that we hold most dearly? Does it help remind us of the sacred covenant we share with each other and with all of life, regardless of nationality or political affiliation? I have allowed that flag to remain in an unobtrusive part of the sanctuary, hoping that others would ask these questions, hoping that perhaps the person who brought it here might talk with me about it. But that hasn't happened. Personally, I am opposed to the display of secular symbols in sacred spaces because of the potentially mixed messages they deliver. And so, I plan to move that flag out of the sanctuary and into the lobby. Perhaps that will spark some healthy dialogue.

And healthy dialogue is what we have begun with respect to the proposal to fly the flag on our front lawn. Earlier this year the Coordinating Council conducted a survey to take the pulse of the congregation on this issue. Those responding were, in true Unitarian Universalist fashion, roughly equally divided, with 36 percent in favor, 48 percent opposed and 16 percent "neutral." Those who "strongly oppose" putting the flag up narrowly outnumbered those who were strongly in favor. The diversity of comments that accompanied the surveys demonstrates just how ambiguous the flag is as a symbol, especially when it is flown on the grounds of a liberal church. Here's just a sampling:

• Our values are very much in line with the foundational values of America. I'd be proud for UUCDC to represent USA. We can help restore her image.
• Why do we need to promote nationalism, especially since 9/11? The flag has become a symbol of right wing war supporters. Is this what we symbolize?
• I think it is worth showing the community that no one type of religion has a monopoly on "patriotism." Also, I think the flag may give people an extra reason to pause and think about what might be going on here.
• My dream of the beloved community at UUCDC is that we are flag bearers of the global society that is moving beyond borders, to recognize there is no way to peace; peace is the way. Nationalist displays do not aid us in this journey.

Whether you are in favor of or opposed to flying the American flag out front, there is no denying that such an act is subject to broad, and widely divergent, interpretation, both by those within our church and those in the wider community. If we are to fly the flag, it behooves us to be clear about our purpose in doing so, and to reach a consensus on what it means to us, before we do. From the sampling of the survey, it's clear that no such clear purpose or consensus yet exists. Your Board of Trustees will be considering the proposal at its February meeting, and I urge all of you to let them know what you think, so that our Unitarian Universalist commitment to democratic process is honored in the decision-making.

I turn now to the noose. You'll notice that I've not displayed a picture of a noose. You all know what one looks like. It is a hideous instrument of torture and death, and an equally hideous reminder of the not-so-distant days gone by in our history. And it seems to be making a comeback. High school students in Jena, Louisiana hung a bunch of nooses from a tree in the school yard where students of color congregated. Someone left a noose hanging from the doorknob of an African American professor at Columbia University. Here in Philadelphia last fall, a white construction worker brandished a noose in the face of a black co-worker at the Comcast Tower site. The list goes on and on. The noose, it seems, has returned once again as an instrument of domestic, racist terrorism.

This nation's legacy of lynchings is one that we would sooner forget. Over the course of nearly a century, the noose was wielded as a weapon of white power over our African-American citizens. From the late 1880's through the 1940's, thousands of black men and women were lynched by white mobs, often for sport and entertainment purposes. Crowds would gather around the site of a lynching, sometimes bringing a picnic dinner for the whole family to enjoy. And the hanging itself was usually just the last stage of torture that was inflicted on the victim. It was just 55 years ago, the year 1952, when our nation first went for an entire year without a lynching.

And now, the noose is back. Waving a noose in the face of a black co-worker, or hanging one in his locker, is not just some joke, some school-boy prank. It is a hate-crime spurred by racial motives, pure and simple. And these nooses are spurring on other racist activities. Last fall, in a town in Lancaster County, a dozen white students, some of whom were wearing Confederate flags on their clothing, taunted and threatened three minority students at the local high school. "It's a few kids doing stupid things," one local merchant remarked, passing off the incident as one of those "kids will be kids" kind of deals. Fortunately, the school district is taking this more seriously, and has launched a comprehensive plan to teach tolerance to its students.

Just a few weeks ago, two sports commentators were talking on air about how unstoppable Tiger Woods will be this season. One of the reporters told the other, "the only way for some of those young golfers to stop him will be to take him back in an alley and lynch him." As you might imagine, this remark was not well received by African-Americans, although Woods himself graciously forgave the commentator for her error. And yet, in a flagrant act of insensitivity, the editor of Golfweek magazine did the unthinkable: he published their next issue with a huge noose on the cover. Suddenly, the controversy became about whether that editor, who was fired by the publisher, was disciplined too severely. Isn't it ironic how a bunch of white folks have now made this situation all about them.

Now, you might say that the reporter's statement was merely a gaff, that she didn't intend any harm by her remarks, that she might just as easily have said "mug him" as "lynch him." Some are saying that African-Americans are being overly sensitive in this case, and they roll their eyes when they see Rev. Al Sharpton thrusting himself into the middle of the melee. But here's the secret about nooses and confederate flags and other symbols of racism and hatred: we don't get to choose. We whites don't get to tell others when it's appropriate to be irate and when it can be passed off as "just a joke." That's one privilege we whites don't have. We gave that up a long time ago, sometime, I'd say, around the time of the Middle Passage, when we kidnapped African men, women and children from their homes and traded them as if they were livestock.

We'd like to believe that racism is dead, that it's buried in our history books and our pasts, and that we're not part of the problem. But it isn't, and we are. Think about the recent controversy over awarding contracts to unions to expand the Philadelphia Convention Center. It took an explicit condition in the City Council's contract to ensure that minority workers were adequately represented on the job site. One recent study shows that in 2004 a typical black family's income was only 58% that of a typical white family. 58 percent! Nearly half of that of whites! And that figure has actually declined from three decades earlier, by nearly 5%! And while black on black crime accounts for the vast majority of murders that occur in our cities each year, it's the economics of race and the problems of poverty and education and employment that are largely to blame. Think about how you may have benefited over the past several years as the stock market has climbed to record levels, and you've watched your personal portfolio grow. Then listen to the words of African-American professor Cornel West from ten years ago, who said back then, "To put it bluntly, beneath the record-breaking stock markets on Wall Street and bipartisan budget balancing deals in the White House lurk ominous clouds of despair across the nation." Those ominous clouds have begun to break open, and the nooses that are raining down on us are an undeniable reminder of the fact that racism is an ongoing reality in our country.

And so, we consider, side-by-side, two symbols: the American flag, and the hangman's noose. One, a symbol of a hoped-for ideal, the other a reminder of an ugly reality. The flag stands as a symbol of the American dream. Of freedom. Of equality. Of justice for all. But the noose reminds us that we live in a time of unrealized expectations and unmet potential, a time of prejudice and pain, a time of not-yet and not-so-fast. The truth of the matter is that these two symbols cannot continue to coexist. We cannot flaunt the flag until the noose is banished. As long as nooses, both actual and metaphorical, hang from the trees of the American landscape, our flag will hang limp and lifeless from its standard. As people of faith and people of privilege, it is up to us to sever the ropes that bind people of color to lives of poverty and desperation, and to forever chop down the lynching trees of hatred and oppression. This is the work that we are called to do, so that all may stake an equal claim to the star-spangled banner.

Blessed Be and Amen.

Closing Words:

The words of Martin Luther King, Jr.

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