Macon Magazine

December 2024/January 2025 | maconmagazine.com 71 divided now maybe more than ever. They're not looking for easy answers or generic cliches." Indeed, in these days a er the 2024 election, cliches won't cut it. I noticed something among folks who are experiencing palpable fear and grief as we anticipate the next presidency. We saw efforts to be together. People reached out, gathering in person at Amerson River Park, Sweet Eleanor's, Cotton Avenue Plaza, and in Zoom gatherings. Some people scoffed at the grief, and that will happen. Dismissing pain is easier than diving into the work of healing. But the brave among us voiced their emotions, seated side by side and tasting cups of coffee. Theologian Howard Thurman taught that, "There is something in every one of you that waits, listens for the sound of the genuine." That is the kind of listening I hoped for as we gathered for TheoEd Macon. Thurman said when we take the posture of sincere listening, "I see in me what you see in me and the wall that separates and divides will disappear and we will become one because the sound of the genuine makes the same music." TheoEd Macon risked vulnerability and hoped for genuine connection. Renowned author Cole Arthur Riley spoke, alongside geneticist Dr. Moshe Szyf, Pastor Reginald Sharpe Jr., and our own Macon citizens. These included Sister Theresa Sullivan, former director of Daybreak Resource Center, and Scott Mitchell, business owner and meditation instructor. In her book "This Here Flesh" Riley describes how communal storytelling in this way "can be an act of justice." When we hear each other, we form a "collective memory," a fuller picture of who we are as a community. We tell our complicated stories, the grief and the joys. Riley says holding out an experience for others to know is to carry an artifact. Artifacts signal that someone was truly here and what they experienced mattered. This too, Riley says, is an act of justice. Christians call this practice "bearing witness," listening and seeing with the aim of naming what is really happening. Bonfiglio said that bearing witness at TheoEd Macon could "inspire audiences to be honest about our pain and help them reframe what it means to pursue healing and wholeness." We gathered at the Douglass Theatre. "May we seek ways to be present with our neighbors and risk the search for what is genuine in this new year." Watch these riveting talks and let us know what you think. Available at theoed.com now. We turned our attention to the five speakers who told stories of struggle. It seemed like even the walls of the historic theatre offered an artifact, a story of when artistry flourished, despite the injustices of 1920s Macon. The room invited us to do the brave work of telling truths. Ready or not, we found ourselves chuckling, clapping, crying our way through embodied moments. The crowd was a gorgeously diverse mix of clergy, non- religious folks, and curious listeners. We leaned in as Rev. Reginald Wayne Sharpe Jr. began. Voices next to me chimed in with "Amen," and I began to understand that this theatre had become sacred space. Sister Teresa both inspired us and made the room crackle with laughter, a release of breath and tension. Dr. Szyf challenged us with insights about how trauma works into our DNA. Scott Mitchell modeled vulnerability by telling us his story. He challenged our ideas about people on the fringe, then coached us to extend our hands and feel our own heartbeats. Riley's talk named the experience of spiritual doubt. Even as a spiritual author and liturgist, she confessed that what feels like God's silence can make us feel like our faith is not enough. "Our doubts are credible, our disbelief human." I heard gasps and watched people wipe tears when she wondered aloud how to move through a time "when religion is no longer something we can approach with honesty." Silence can be unsettling. We o en prefer the buffer of platitudes that keep us from attending to the artifacts of our lived experience. Trudging uphill is easier when we are distracted. Yet Riley told us that we must contend with the doubt and disillusionment – and listen. She said, "You'll be surprised to find whose voice comes into focus when a room has the courage to quiet." This sounded like the way forward, to seek the sound of the genuine in my neighbors. Courage to listen and courage to notice the voices that need to be heard feels like a challenge. As we ended the event, Riley quoted author bell hooks: "Rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation. Healing is an act of communion." I looked around that night to see the healing happening. Like communion, we received a gi from those who offered their stories. May we seek ways to be present with our neighbors and risk the search for what is genuine in this new year.

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