Sanctified Art | Commentary by Dr. Mindy McGarrah Sharp
“I’ve found my voice!” The class beamed with excitement, sharing in palpable joy. This student had been quiet for years, almost never speaking. One day, they spoke, then again, building steam throughout the semester, deepening their vocal participation and contributing mightily to collective learning.
“How did I not know about this?” asked another student in a different class. They had been studying for years and had already devoted countless hours to various ministries. “Now that I found this out, I am free! And I am also mad!” That class joined in palpable joy and righteous anger.
How did these students find their voice and freedom? Both exclaimed that the assigned reading invited them in, showing that their voices were welcome, their freedom was at hand, and that people who look like them have been calling them through generations to find their voice and freely join the conversation.
For a teacher, bearing witness to a student who finds their voice is joyous. With newfound courage, freer students glow. What they did or didn’t realize was lost is now found! The whole room shifts when a voice found adds something to the group that was lost without them. When a found voice claims its rightful power, there is almost always rejoicing.
But it’s also maddening. Voices aren’t disembodied utterings, but embodied precious people worthy of being heard. Bearing witness to the joy of found voices also bears witness to obliviousness that voices were missing. Even with deep conviction and contrition, it’s painful when the almost-always-heard realize they never noticed anyone missing in readings, historical genealogies, or learning environments.
I assign readings from often-invisibilized theologians who honor their mentors, one generation to the next across multiple
generations. These readings also clearly describe the finding of the authors’ own unique and powerful voices.
Tracing generations of Asian Feminist, Womanist, Liberationist scholars in theological trajectories teaches about the kind of
mentoring it takes to help scholars find their voices. Readings themselves become mentors to many students, including the
two mentioned here. While diverse representation in readings is just a start, it’s not enough. I seek to read what has existed for generations, but has been left out, lost, unread, unpreached, unassigned, unknown. Who noticed? Who searched?
One commentator suggests calling this the parable of the found instead of the lost sheep because this search continues until the final finding. It doesn’t stop, doesn’t tire of noticing the missing. Have you found your voice? Have you found your freedom? Have you found your anger? Have you found your joy?
Reflect
Whose voices have you not yet noticed? Which ones are missing, unread, unpreached, unheard?