Find the Healers

Almost two years ago, Yolanda Pierce moved to Nashville to become dean of Vanderbilt Divinity School. This was and is intensely good news. In Dr. Pierce, Nashville is met by an activist scholar who is also an accomplished administrator and a renowned public intellectual. Michael Eric Dyson says she’s “arguably the greatest interpreter of religion in our present age.”

Following Hell Without Fires: Slavery, Christianity, & the Antebellum Spiritual Narrative and In My Grandmother’s House: Black Women, Faith, and the Stories We Inherit, Dr. Pierce brings us a new work that is equal parts memoir and cultural commentary, both righteously personal and political. In The Wounds Are the Witness: Black Faith Weaving Memory into Justice and Healing, she laments “the calculated amnesia” of disinformation-driven legislation in these United States while lifting up the witness of Jesus of Nazareth whose way of lovingly confronting the criminal injustice system of his day might yet inform our own: “He loved. And he rebuked. He comforted. And he chastised. He pleaded. And he surrendered.” 

In a spirit akin to the work of Howard Thurman, the book serves as devotional reading, a summons to self-care, and encouragement for everyday action and outspokenness.

Dr. Pierce answered questions by email.

Chapter 16: I am struck by the ease with which you overcome debilitating binaries. You critique and grieve the toxic conceptions of God and self and others at work within so many church communities, while also praising and carrying forward the tradition of your elders. Where and how did you learn to narrate your life this way?

Yolanda Pierce: Binaries can quickly become toxic. In theology, the black/white binary is often used, where “blackness” refers to evil and “whiteness” refers to goodness. The historical problem with this binary was those theologians who inferred that people with dark skin were innately evil because of their color, while people with lighter skin were innately purer or closer to God. This flawed binary upheld slaveholding theology in this country for a very long time. So as a womanist theologian today, I work with the idea of “tensions” and how to hold those tensions together, instead of reinforcing binaries. Places of faith can be sanctuaries and sites of healing for many AND those same places have often harmed and been toxic to some. Both things can be true, even at the same time. The tension is telling the truth about the harm and also being willing to work to elevate the healing.

Chapter 16: Without diminishing the idea of healing as a kind of miracle, you always tie it to everyday people and their practices of intentionality and whole-heartedness. I love how you reworked Fred Rogers’ “Find the helpers” line as “Find the healers.” As you follow that counsel, who have you found as healers in Nashville?

Pierce: I’m new to the Nashville area, having moved here about 18 months ago. As a native New Yorker, and a recent transplant from Washington, D.C., I really marvel at the ways that Southern hospitality exists.* There are people who still value human connection. There are folks who stop whatever they are doing and genuinely inquire about your health or your family. In a world with so much loneliness and disconnection, this is a beautiful thing — a basic recognition of your humanity in your everyday life. As the dean of the Vanderbilt Divinity School, I only have to name any social justice organization in town and I’ll find one of our graduates. It is a blessing to work at a place where people believe in healing as a vocational calling. Feeding the hungry, caring for the marginalized, helping the undocumented are all part of the work of healers.

*In defense of New Yorkers, we are also a friendly bunch once you get to know us!!

Chapter 16: What are dangerous memories, and why are they essential?

Pierce: Dangerous memories are the things that the larger society wants you to forget because it would change the narrative of how history is remembered or taught. For me, as a Black woman, the acts of resistance and survival of my ancestors are dangerous memories; they upend how slavery is often taught about in this country. So many of the wounds of this nation, from massacres in Elaine, Arkansas, or Tulsa, Oklahoma, to court cases like Dred Scott v. Sanford are dangerous memories; they challenge ideas about democracy and power. Remembering and resurrecting these dangerous memories — literally putting flesh on the bones of the past — is healing work and justice work. It gives voice to those whose stories and histories were buried. It gives names and nuance to those who have been forgotten and buried.

Chapter 16: You speak of the Spirit of the Lord as present wherever real justice and radical inclusivity are made manifest in “beloved community.” In your view, is there a difference between beloved community and the kingdom of God?

Pierce: I love the term “beloved community” because it is an expansive term: It has room for those who may not believe in God or those who have radically different ideas of the Divine. Beloved community is a term for the here and now; we can build it and create it and everyone is welcome. The kingdom of God is often used in an eschatological sense — the world that is to come or some point after divine judgment. I’m invested in this world, this community, this nation into which I was born. Building a beloved community of radical inclusivity is the work of this present world. And while I hope and believe that there is far more beyond this life, I take the words of the Lord’s Prayer seriously: God’s will can be done on this Earth, as it will one day be in heaven. We cannot be so spiritually minded that we’re no earthly good.

Chapter 16: What do you love most about Beyoncé?

Pierce: I came of age listening to Beyoncé, so the music of your impressionable teenage/young adult years is the music you will love forever. As a certified church girl, I love Black gospel music, but Beyoncé and 90s hip hop remain the soundtracks of my life. What I love about her as an artist is her willingness to explore various genres, create projects that are authentic to her voice, and balance her celebrity and privacy. I have a sense that she knows how to protect her peace in a world that demands unlimited access to every single thing a celebrity does. I also find her music to be an unapologetic love letter to Black women. When I write about “Break My Soul,” it’s because I hear it as a song directed to those whose souls are daily challenged by the realities of racism and sexism.

Chapter 16: Why do you carry a vial of anointing oil in your purse?

Pierce: I love this question! I was raised in the Holiness-Pentecostal tradition, so I maintain some of the old school habits of this tradition. Anointing oil was ubiquitous because the capacity and power for God’s healing was wholly expected. I carry it now for two reasons. First, because of the job, I’m often asked to pray for people. This is usually a surprise to me as I really think about myself mainly as a professor and administrator. But being at a divinity school, and also being an ordained minister, I get more requests for prayer than you can imagine! Secondly, there’s nothing special or magical about the oil itself. I understood that even as a child, where we practiced foot-washing and the anointing of oil. But what I still love about the tradition is that it represents “holy touch.” In a world where so many people experience abusive or violent touch, to be lovingly anointed with oil and prayed for with tenderness and compassion is a gift.