Voices of Moral Mondays: Hot, Tired & Hungry by Craig Schaub

The NC Council of Churches is proud to publish a brand new e-book collection of testimonies from Moral Mondays. With 32 short vignettes from North Carolinians across the state, Voices of Moral Mondays tells the story of everyday folks being motivated to speak out on account of their faith. Many, though not all, of the accounts describe what it was like to engage in civil disobedience and be arrested by the authorities. Click here to download the free e-book.

By Rev. Craig Schaub, Parkway United Church of Christ, Winston-Salem

We were tired, hot, and hungry as we wove our way slowly through the crowd to head back to our car for the journey home. Our eight-year-old daughter was holding my hand and looked up. She said, “Dad, that was sort of cool.” On our way from the final Moral Monday in Raleigh back to Winston-Salem, she fell asleep in the backseat. Arriving home, she put on her pajamas, hunted for a book in her bookshelf, and thrust it before me. “I want you to read this to me before I fall back asleep.” It was a book about how representative government works. Not my idea of a typical bedtime story, but clearly what she wanted. Something was planted within her that night. It was enough for me.

It’s what my participation in the Moral Monday experience this summer has been about: planting hope in our communities, in our families, in ourselves.

I was less collected than our daughter at certain moments that day. Seeing the array of people gathered before our state capitol, my eyes leaked tears. Hearing the soulful response to songs and the words of Dr. Barber and others, something stirred. Not because we suddenly overturned an onslaught of regressive legislation. Not because we nailed down an electoral strategy. But because the experience fed a vision for something deep and broad and true.

In June, a number of clergy colleagues of the Ministers Conference of Winston-Salem and Vicinity discerned that they would engage in civil disobedience at a Moral Monday vigil. Still rather new to Winston-Salem, I seized on the opportunity as a way to deepen relationships.

As one of our colleagues put it, “There’s nothing like the bond that’s forged going to jail together.” The experience has energized my work locally with many of these same colleagues.

What moved me on that warm and rainy June evening was the way I received witness from many with whom I was arrested from all over the state. Many of the folks with whom I spoke were retired, being arrested for the first time. Often they would say, “This is what I need to do as a grandparent.”

A few days later, the elementary school where I tutor and mentor quietly received word that I had engaged in civil disobedience. Soon, there were teachers approaching me to say, “Thanks for standing with us, for letting us know someone cares.”

As one of our colleagues put it, “There’s nothing like the bond that’s forged going to jail together.” The experience has energized my work locally with many of these same colleagues.

Sometimes people would ask what this “Moral Monday thing” was really for. “You aren’t going to change the minds of the governor or the majority in the General Assembly,” they’d say. But my participation is motivated by something beyond short-term, pragmatic politics. It’s about claiming humanity in a relational, non-violent way rather than simply getting angry or wringing hands. It’s about participation in  a dynamic, diverse coalition, swinging for the fences with a vision, rather than letting someone else define what I see. Something was planted within me. It may not be enough, but it’s a good start.