Blog Posts
It’s Almost the 4th of July: What Are We Willing to Sacrifice?
Photo by Timothy Wolff on Unsplash
I was stunned by the Supreme Court majority opinions announced last week on guns and abortion. Emotions in the streets and in tweets remain palpable, from grief to elation.
As Christians and as Americans, we share a civic and moral responsibility to discuss these two decisions with one another—across our religious and political differences. Yet there is an even more urgent task.
Whether we feel jubilation, sorrow or indifference right now, we must each grapple with this question: What are you willing to sacrifice? I ask because this bold, fragile republic is on the ropes. Did you notice?
The searing testimonies and overwhelming evidence coming to light in the House January 6 Committee Hearings are the epoch-defining news of summer 2022. If you are not gobsmacked, you have not been paying attention.
So far, we have heard everyday, heroic defenders of democracy speak up. The vast majority are Republicans who served during the Trump administration. Many identify as Christians. Their sworn testimony is reinforced by over 1,000 witnesses who testified earlier along with 125,000 documents (emails, memos, phone call transcripts, videos, texts, tweets) The tremendous body of evidence makes it plain how far-reaching the attempts were to overturn the 2020 election.
The hard truth is this: Former President Trump and his allies blatantly lied to us. They dragged decent, dedicated, humble, public servants through the mud, endangering and forever altering their lives. They pressured Republican politicians and the highest levels of the Department of Justice to promote false narratives. They strategically and cynically stoked the anger and resentment of Trump voters.
They didn’t pour gas on a fire; they laid the wood, kindled it and unleashed a roaring wildfire on Jan. 6, 2021. Had it not been for the dogged integrity and commitment to the truth of Republicans like AZ House Speaker Rusty Bowers, GA Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, and key DOJ officials (William Barr, Jeffrey Rosen, Richard Donoghue), the rule of law in the United States would have perished.
As Judge Michael Luttig (a prominent conservative nominated to the federal bench by George H.W. Bush) wrote in his testimony to the House Committee:
“January 6 was a war for America’s democracy, a war irresponsibly instigated and prosecuted by the former president, his political party allies, and his supporters. The time has come for us to decide whether we allow this war over our democracy to be prosecuted to its catastrophic end or whether we ourselves demand the immediate suspension of this war and insist on peace instead.”
In all honesty, I probably disagree with these men on nearly everything. Yet on these things we agree: the fundamental primacy of the U.S. Constitution; the absolute necessity of safeguarding free and fair elections; facts matter. No one—no matter their power or position—is allowed to distort reality to serve selfish aims. Indeed, if we the people do not agree on these points, we do not live in anything resembling a republic.
In his 1963 “Letter from Birmingham City Jail,” the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. voiced his exasperation with white Christians who professed to be on the side of equality, but who were woefully complacent in confronting the moral evil of segregation:
“We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people. We must come to see that human progress never rolls in on the wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of [people] willing to be co-workers with God.”
My grandparents, whom I loved fiercely, were life-long Republicans and Christians. When Nixon’s betrayal became known, without hesitation, they vigorously called him and his toadies out. Will we finally do the same now?
Even more: Are we—The People—willing to sacrifice our most foundational laws and principles to see the policies and people we prefer in power? Is outlawing abortion or expanding gun rights in every state worth sacrificing democracy itself? Right now, numerous states are working to restrict voting rights, gerrymander districts and put Trump loyalists in charge of state elections. Earlier this month, a NM county commission refused to certify the primary results until the NM Supreme Court stepped in.
In 1968, King implored us to awaken to the “fierce urgency of now.” In 2022, we are again at an inflection point.
We Christian Americans could unite around the most basic tenets of our Constitution and form of government. We could insist on facts. We could hold liars accountable. We could extend grace to those defrauded and deceived by the Big Lie. We could vote (just 66% of those eligible made it to the polls in 2020) and help others do so. We could insist on laws to ensure our elections remain the standard bearer of free and fair elections in the world.
And we could again discuss, with sincere ideas and hearts, the hot-button issues of the day— abortion, guns, racial inequity, the climate crisis, LGBTQIA rights, gaping wealth inequity—in town halls, around kitchen tables, in our congregations. So many Christians care deeply about all these issues.
My students look at the state of things and wonder how we (anyone over 30)—have allowed so much structural sin to fester: poverty, hunger, homelessness, intensifying weather patterns. They wonder, “Does anything matter if the future is so bleak?” They are more despondent about their prospects than in the prior 18 years that I have taught. When classes resume in August, do I tell them that they are right—the world is going to hell in a handbasket and there is not much we can do?
Through our collective (in)actions in these precious months, we will make the answer clear. I hope you will help me give them—give all of us—reasons to stay engaged, to hope, to fight and sacrifice for our shared democracy.
Dr. Aana Marie Vigen
Aana Marie Vigen, Ph.D. is a parent, educator, and public scholar. Dr. Vigen is Professor of Christian Ethics at Loyola University Chicago and is an active member of the Lutheran Church (ELCA).
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Jan. 6 Was the Whitest Epiphany: White Christians, Where Do We Go from Here?
It feels like an eon ago. I awoke ebullient to learn that, on Epiphany — the day that three wise nobles outwitted a desperate, murderous despot — that the Rev. Dr. Warnock had been elected to the U.S. Senate. My spirits did an abrupt 180 and my stomach churned as I witnessed (from my couch) the violent insurrection on the U.S. Capitol orchestrated by white people. No one should have been surprised. Black and Brown people certainly were not. Many (predominately white) journalists and pundits lamented the "dark day." Womanist biblical scholar and Episcopal priest Wil Gafney aptly corrected them on Facebook:
"Today was not a 'dark day.' Today was a white day. One of the whitest days in American history."
Gafney is right 100 percent. The problem is that we white Christians still don't get it — even after witnessing the damning footage of white hoards, both gleeful and angry, as they deployed numerous assault tactics — flex cuffs, radios, earpieces, an array of weapons. They prepared for months in plain sight. Republican elected officials and off-duty police officers and fire fighters were among their ranks. After delaying the DHS report, the Department of Homeland Security Acting Director Chad Wolf (picked by the 45th President) warned us on Oct. 6 that domestic white supremacist groups "remain the most persistent and lethal threat" to our nation. Mere seconds, along with the courage and quick-thinking of Capitol Police officer Eugene Goodman, kept them from U.S. senators.
To be sure, notable officials, many of whom identify as white, have called out the egregious, racist desecration and insurrection for what it was. Yet, the troubling and troubled silence of far too many white Christians reverberates far and wide across digital and other platforms.
It is tempting for me and others who identify as white progressive Christians to distance ourselves from the ugliness of Epiphany 2021.
We blame the exceptional "extremists" — card-carrying white supremacists and white nationalists; the radical right; neo-fascists; Q-anon disciples; Proud Boys. To do so irresponsibly ignores that among the mob (both those who stormed the Capitol and those who remained outside) were thousands of Christians. Their/our signs and symbols were everywhere. As of Dec. 20, 2020 56 percent of white evangelical Protestants and 51 percent of white Catholics hold favorable views of the 45th President.
I still clearly hear white folks defending the "good white" people who did not enter the Capitol who were merely exercising their rights to freedom of speech and assembly. As just one example, Chicago Police Union President John Catanzara:
"There was no arson, there was no burning of anything, there was no looting, there was very little destruction of property … It was a bunch of pissed-off people that feel an election was stolen … If the worst crime here is trespassing, so be it. But to call these people treasonous is beyond ridiculous and ignorant … They're individuals … They get to do what they want … They're entitled to voice their frustration."
His remarks remain revealing of predominant white mindsets: white people are "peaceful, patriots, law-abiding, Constitution-defending" — and we have a God-given right to voice our views and get angry. Implicitly, he is also saying that Black and Brown people do not. The ragged, racist litany is all-too familiar: Black and Brown people are "looters, dangerous, socialists, anarchists, criminals, welfare queens." In short, they are not Americans, not fully human. Dr. Brittney Cooper pointedly puts it this way:
"Our empathy meter is set to seeing white violence as protest and Black protest as violence."
By now, you have no excuse for not seeing the photos contrasting the police responses of Jan. 6 to that of BLM protests and marches.
Dr. Bryan Massingale makes plain what white Christians need to be able to see already for ourselves:
"What we witnessed in Washington is a direct consequence of four years of enabling complicity, cynical appeasement, and cowardly silence … It is also the consequence of the complicit silence and active support of religious leaders who refused to confront the cancer of white nationalism that this president endorses and who excused all manner of his wrongdoing, incompetence and brutality …"
So, white Christians, what's next for us? Yes, we must hold elected officials — at all levels of government (the 45th President, the Sedition Caucus led by Senators Cruz and Hawley, Rep. Mary Miller who praised Hitler for what he "got right" and the 147 lawmakers who objected to the certification of electoral votes; the newly elected West Virginia delegate who recorded himself storming into the Capitol) — accountable for their complicity. Yes, we must denounce the Capitol police who posed for selfies with the rioters and call for a full investigation into the appalling, possibly complicit, disaster of the law enforcement response.
Yet, we must do much more.
To begin, we need to own our complicity. We — white people, especially white Christians, must actively resist and dismantle the white privilege and presumption that allows white people to enact such treasonous violence with such confidence and comfort. Now is the moment to do the bold, hard work of self-reflection, repair and repentance.
We must have honest, heart-felt conversations with our white neighbors, communities, and families. We must consistently stand and show up for racial justice — and for the long haul. All clergy may sign this public statement from the National Council of Churches calling for the removal of President Trump from office. Google has all the resources — for reading, podcasts, and connecting with Christians and others doing substantive anti-racism work. Commit now and plug in — with humility and readiness to do much more listening than talking.
Jesus and his family are still on the run fleeing those who plot their death. To live the Epiphany Gospel we proclaim, white Christians must do this work.
Dr. Aana Marie Vigen
Aana Marie Vigen, Ph.D. is Associate Professor of Christian Ethics at Loyola University Chicago and is an active member of the Lutheran Church (ELCA).
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
May You Be Brave
In December 2013, I wrote the blessing below and posted it on my social media. I don’t remember the context for this blessing, what made me write it at the time. But as I was reflecting on what I wanted to say to preachers who must stand and deliver this Sunday, the first Sunday after Epiphany, and the Sundays that follow, it seems especially appropriate:
May God Strengthen You for Adversity
A blessing for today:
May God strengthen you for adversity
and companion you in joy.
May God give you the courage of your conviction
and the wisdom to know when to speak and act.
May you know peace.
May you be gifted with deep,
true friendship and love.
May every God-breathed thing you put
your hand to prosper and succeed.
May you have laughter to fortify you
against the disappointments.
May you be brave.
© Valerie Bridgeman
December 18, 2013
On Wednesday, I watched with sadness as the United States Capitol building was overrun by aggrieved citizens. I want to be clear to note that they were citizens. They’ve been called a number of things, including by me: rioters, insurrectionists, seditionists. But they were citizens who believe that the election was “stolen” from them, who believe that the votes of (mostly) black and brown people should be rejected, that there is “proof” that the current president has been wronged. And so, they were there for the revolution and to “take back their country.” For them, those of us who voted against their will are not true Americans. I was not surprised at all. I have found myself weary from all the handwringing and the “this is not who we are” posts from (mostly) white people. I have found myself weary from the “unbelievable” and “shock” from the media and others. Most of that weariness is because no one I know that is an activist/advocate for racial and social justice found it “unbelievable” or “shocking.” It was predictable. I’ve been saying for many years, “we are not safe,” because I have been in conversations with (white) people who have said directly that they can’t wait for a revolution to “take our country back.” It was as American as baseball and apple pie. White grievance and rage are baked into the DNA of this nation. I know what I just wrote is offensive to people whose mythmaking about this country deifies it and demonizes anyone who says such things. Right about now comes the “if you don’t love this country, leave” or “go back where you came from.” It’s all so very predictable.
I turned my television to a station that is consistently sympathetic to the current president and was reminded that there is no Venn diagram between the world I generally inhabit and the world of those who only dwell in that world. And, as I usually pray, I wondered how in the world will we ever know one another since we don’t live in the same universe. And that’s where the blessing I wrote in 2013 comes in. I don’t have anything deep to write in this moment. But I know that those who claim the gospel as our starting point will have to be brave. Bravery requires precision. It requires thinking clearly about what all the issues are. It requires using language carefully. It requires resisting pablum and platitudes. It requires resisting “what about-ism” when calling out wrong. It requires truth-telling, even in the face of rage and handwringing. It calls for wisdom. But it also calls for friendships, love, and laughter. It calls for strength and God-given companionship. And preachers must invoke all of that. So, friends, may you be brave as you prepare to preach in the breach of these difficult days.
Dr. Valerie Bridgeman
Dr. Valerie Bridgeman
Dean and Vice President for Academic Affairs
Associate Professor of Homiletics and Hebrew Bible
Methodist Theological Seminary in Ohio
Facebook | @valerie.bridgeman.3
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Images of Love, Hope, and Unity Surround Kenosha
'Love is the answer' painted on plywood walls in Kenosha, Wisconsin, photographed by Veronica King.
Ugly tan plywood appeared on windows around the city of Kenosha in the aftermath of the shooting of Jacob Blake on August 23, as the city braced for protests and potential damage to property. In response, a group called Kenosha Creative Space came up with the idea of encouraging residents of the city to paint the plywood with the themes of Love, Hope, and Unity, and soon, what was an idea became a reflection of a city grappling with violence responding in a way that did not diminish the pain, but insisted on a better future.
Veronica King was one Kenosha resident who loved the result. As King drove around the city, she noticed how many of the images contained scripture passages and she began to photograph them and share them on Facebook as part of her work with Congregations to Serve Humanity (CUSH), an Interfaith organization in Kenosha where she is Vice President. “This is one way to help begin the healing of our community,” says King, describing the messages and images of hope.
Another part of healing came through an Interfaith prayers service held at Second Baptist Church of Kenosha on Sunday afternoon outside of one of the churches that is a member of CUSH. On a sunny, warm afternoon, religious leaders from Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Episcopal Baptist, and other traditions gathered outdoors at a safe social distance to offer prayers of hope and show interfaith solidarity in this difficult time in their community.
CUSH is focused on love and healing but also on acknowledging the persistence of racism that afflicts the city. In a statement on their website they also insist that prayers are not enough and the time is now to act:
We know that hopes and prayers are not enough to stop a speeding bullet or to counteract centuries’ worth of systemic racism and the calculated oppression of our siblings of color so ubiquitous in this nation’s history that many of the privileged among us still do not recognize it even exists. We know that in addition to the hope of our hearts and the prayers of our souls we must act.
“We can live peacefully and safely if we work together, to work through our differences, get rid of systemic racism and have a strategic plan to move forward,” King further explained, emphasizing that CUSH is working with the Mayor’s office along with the Chief of Police and other community leaders to help bring the faith voice, and increased diversity to the committees that are being formed to address racism and to heal the city.
Veronica King brings her own history as a community leader to the effort as the former local NAACP chapter president, as well as her history as a social worker, a profession she decided upon when she was 10 years old and had a dedicated social worker who would check on her monthly at her foster home. King’s work with faith communities started with her own foster parents who were active in their church who offered her “Footing and my grounding."
Even as people come from the outside, eager to disrupt with a rhetoric of division and acts of violence, Veronica King and so many other residents in the Interfaith and artistic communities are working hard to fight against racial injustice and heal Kenosha with hope, love, and unity.
This post originally appeared on IFYC.org, September 1, 2020, and is used with permission.
Religious leaders of diverse faiths offer prayers and reflections at the CUSH Interfaith prayer service held at the Second Baptist Church of Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Messages of peace painted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Messages of hope painted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
#KenoshaStrong painted on a banner hangs over the ruins of a building, and another painted wall portrays a message from scriptures.
An MLK quote and messages of peace and love are painted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Scriptures quoted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Scripture quotes and message of strength and resilience painted around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paintings of Love, Unity, Justice, painted on brick walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Paintings of love and hope around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Black Lives Matter and messages of unity painted on plywood walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paintings of love and peace around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paintings of love and equality on plywood walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Messages of the power of love painted on plywood walls across Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paul Raushenbush
Paul Raushenbush is Senior Advisor for Public Affairs and Innovation at IFYC (Interfaith Youth Core) promoting a narrative of positive pluralism in America, while researching and developing cutting edge interfaith leadership. He is the Editor of Interfaith America.
Facebook | @raushenbush
Twitter | @raushenbush
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
The “Light” of Ella Baker
Ella Baker at a news conference in 1968 | Credit Jack Harris/Associated Press
I admit I did not watch former Vice President Joe Biden’s Democratic National Convention acceptance speech. Apparently I missed a Black Woman shout out. Days before, I heard DNC host Tracee Ellis Ross pay homage to the Black women who paved the way for Vice Presidential candidate and Senator, Kamala Harris’, historic run. Ross lifted Charlotta Bass, Fannie Lou Hamer, and Shirley Chisholm. In her nomination acceptance speech Harris too gave tribute to the prowess and acumen of Black women political leaders. In addition to Hamer, Harris highlighted Mary Church Terrell, Mary MacLeod Bethune, Diane Nash, and Constance Baker Motley as Black women on whose shoulders she stands and in whose pumps she walks (my addition).
Still one woman’s name was just a whisper during the Convention as it was at services for the late Congressman John Lewis — Ella Baker.
That was until Presidential candidate, Joe Biden, quoted Baker in the opening of his speech: “Give people light, and they will find a way.” From 1944-1946 as NAACP Director of Branches, Baker convened officials from Shreveport to Chicago to conduct workshops for local NAACP leaders. The title was synonymous with these leadership conferences. She borrowed the phrase from one of her favorite hymns. Baker employed the theme because she believed people did not really need to be led. They needed to be given skills to lead themselves.
After resigning her role at the NAACP, Baker became one of the founders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). Yet, she left the organization in 1958. Her male colleagues only recognized her competence and expertise to a degree. The “preacher’s club” named Rev. Wyatt Tee Walker to replace Baker at the helm. According to biographer Barbara Ransby, due to this prevailing patriarchy and what she deemed a focus on “mass rallies and grand exhortations by ministers without follow-up,” Baker departed the SCLC and chose to go her own womanly way.
While leaving the SCLC, Baker did not leave the work of civil rights.
In 1960 after witnessing the power of student sit-ins, Baker organized the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee or SNCC (“snick”). Because of the influence of SNCC, students became the face of the Freedom Rides in 1961. These Freedom Rides from Washington, D.C. and Nashville down to Alabama led to Freedom Summer in 1964. In the heat of the day, students led volunteers from across the nation in a massive voter registration drive throughout Mississippi. Subsequently many students formed the Students for a Democratic Society.
In the book of Deuteronomy, God offers Moses and the children of Israel the choice of “life and prosperity or death and adversity” (30:19). Ironically, God makes the decision for them and admonishes the hearers to cast their lot with life “so that their descendants may live” (v.19). In other words, what Moses and his followers do at this intersection will influence children whom they will not live to see.
The action they take at this fork in the road will set the path for their progeny.
Additionally, the Book of Ecclesiasticus, not Ecclesiastes, upholds the significance of making proper choices. This literature, sometimes referred to as “Sirach” is a part of the Apocryphal or Deuterocanoncial works prevalent in Catholicism. In Sirach or Ecclesiasticus chapter 15, the author makes note of “the power of ... free choice” (v.14), and humanity’s “choice between fire and water” (v. 16). As recorded in Deuteronomy, this book also comments that “before each person are life and death” (v. 17).
Both sacred texts offer contextual relevance in helping us see that some decisions are not mere matters of material, food, or size. Pondering life or death choices is just that — will what you do make life better for you and the community or will what I decide possibly bring destruction to me and my neighbor?
Any “choice” words spoken in haste can kill my brother’s spirit, but choosing to employ language in love can shape a girl’s self-esteem and give her promise.
Standing at the crossroads and junctures of life is not solely about our individual living. These watershed challenges should lead us to consider touching people outside our physical reach. This is the legacy of Ella Baker.
Ella Baker seized the opportunity and made a decision that would turn the tide of history. She chose to do what far exceeded herself. Although SNCC is no longer a viable entity and Baked died in 1986, her name, her work, and her spirit thrive.
In his remarks at the home going services for John Lewis, Rev. James Lawson averred it was Black women who made the decision to desegregate downtown Nashville. Vice Presidential candidate Harris stated Black women paved the way. To say NAACP, SNCC, and now the 2020 United States Presidential election, one needs to sing her song and yes, #SayHerName — Ella Baker.
This blog has been adapted from its original publication on August 3, 2020 “Ella Baker: A Name We All Should Know.”
Dr. Stephanie Buckhanon Crowder
Stephanie Buckhanon Crowder, author, speaker and teacher, is a Baptist and Disciples of Christ minister who holds a Ph.D. in New Testament from Vanderbilt University. Her latest book is When Momma Speaks: The Bible and Motherhood from a Womanist Perspective. This #WomanistMomma currently serves as Associate Professor and Academic Dean at Chicago Theological Seminary.
Facebook: Stephanie Buckhanon Crowder
Twitter: @stepbcrowder
Instagram: StephBuckhanonC
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Return to Normalcy and Other Fleshpots
Don’t think that I’ve come to bring peace to the earth. I haven’t come to bring peace but a sword (Matthew 10:34, CEB).
In the current political environment, many Americans are hoping for a “return to normalcy.” Such a pitch plucks at the heartstrings of many who are ready to vomit after too many sharp turns on the 2020 roller coaster.
Many of us just want to get back to the way things were—when masks were just a curious feature of foreign travelers, when visiting family didn’t require risk assessment, when self-scandalizing tweets didn’t hijack our news cycle, when church participation didn’t require a Zoom account, when outlets weren’t so clearly fueled and funded by rage, and when we didn’t have to squirm under the constant accusation of racism.
The return to normalcy argument derives its power from the common (and often beneficial!) human impulses to avoid conflict, stabilize life when it gets knocked off balance, resolve contradiction, organize chaos, and believe that we are good and decent people with upright intentions.
On its long trip from Egypt to Canaan, Ancient Israel experienced a similar urge to return to a more familiar and comfortable past (see Exodus 16:3).
The only problem was that their memory of the past was distorted. They remembered the fleshpots but not the chains.
Ironically, the promised “return to normalcy” means that 2020—like 2016—will be an election about nostalgia. But one thing sets 2020 apart from 2016: clarity. 2020 has seen the sins of generations washing up on the shores of our nation in ways that are profoundly public and profoundly painful. 2020 has been a year of judgment, when sinful seeds planted long ago are coming into maturity in ways that have compounding effects.
If divine judgment does one thing well, it brings into focus what was previously obscured or even ignored, separating wheat from husk and sheep from goats (Matthew 3:11-12; 25:31-46).
The fire of God’s judgment allows us to see ourselves as we truly are before God’s law of love. We are in a painful process in which our national eyes are slowly and reluctantly opening to truths that some in our population have suffered under for ages.
2020 has brought clarity about many particular things: clarity about racial disparities, clarity about the dangers of poor leadership, clarity about the weaknesses in our social fabric, clarity about the importance of robust free speech and assembly rights, clarity about the deficiencies in our health care system, clarity about the disrepair of the international order, and clarity about how lines of discrimination can exist in reality, even if they don’t exist legally.
But clarity is painful and costly.
It stings the way Nathan’s words to David must have stung: “you are that man” (2 Samuel 12:7). It crashes down on us like the waters crashed down on Pharaoh’s armies at the Red Sea. And it brings us face-to-face with one of the most disturbing aspects of Jesus’ ministry: confrontation.
Jesus’ ministry was inherently confrontational, as Matthew 10:34 indicates: “Don’t think that I’ve come to bring peace to the earth. I haven’t come to bring peace but a sword.”
Matthew’s Jesus is an apocalyptic figure, whose conflict with the powers of sin, death, and the devil are borne out through the Gospels. He recognized that true peace, shalom, requires confrontation.
Like the late John Lewis, Jesus was a troublemaker. When Jesus came to town, the powers of sin, death, and the devil surfaced. The demons showed their faces—not because they were powerful, but because they were vulnerable.
As the apocalyptic sword of divine judgment sweeps through our own land, ancient demons are emerging from their lairs with the kind of ferocity that comes only from desperation. In the apocalypse, the last thing we need is a return to normalcy.
Americans face an important question: Are we willing to exchange the moral clarity of this moment for a distorted memory of the past?
Is a “return to normalcy” really what is called for?
We ought to be concerned when and if “return to normalcy” is heard as a summons to a time when we saw less clearly, when we more easily overlooked our neighbor’s weathered face and scarred hands. The precious gift of moral clarity at this time of judgment is utterly invaluable.
And we ought not substitute that clarity for a morally dull sense of comfort.
Dr. Michael J. Chan
Host: Gospel Beautiful Podcast
Assistant Professor of Old Testament
Luther Seminary
Join Us for a FREE Event
Being Church Today
Monday, August 17 | 10:30am-1:00pm CDT
Church Anew has gathered a diverse group of Christian thought leaders to ignite innovation and imagination for leading congregations in a time like this. These keynote speakers will amplify the voices of local leaders from the Minneapolis area, who will share stories of how the church is leading in our own context, particularly in response to systemic racism in our communities.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Ella Baker: A Name We All Should Know
Ella Baker at a news conference in 1968 | Credit Jack Harris/Associated Press
I sat waiting and waiting and waiting. Watching the recent homegoing celebration for Civil Rights icon, Congressman John Lewis, I was waiting for someone to mention the women. This was not about slighting Lewis in any way. He was and remains deserving of honor and accolades. Yet, I get nervous when people start talking about the 1960s and its horrid context of water hoses traumatizing flesh, dogs biting skin, and people crossing bridges only to be met with batons.
Often in this retelling, narrators forget to #SayHerName, and by this I mean put on stage the women, the sisters, the matriarchs of the movement.
So, with tiptoe anticipation and ear attuned, I pined for any of the speakers to #CallTheRoll. Rev. James Lawson, Jr. did. In griot fashion, cultural curator posture, and with oratorial aplomb, he noted his apprentices including Lewis who learned non-violent resistance in the bowels of Nashville, TN. Among the young activists whom Lawson highlighted were women: Jeannetta Hayes, Helen Roberts, Delores Wilkerson, Diane Nash, Paulina Knight, and Angela Butler. They were students from Fisk University and American Baptist College who rallied against racial segregation in the capital of Tennessee during the late 50s and 60s.
Still, one woman’s name was just a whisper during the services for Lewis — Ella Baker.
Baker was one of the founders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). Yet, she left the organization in 1958. Her male colleagues only recognized Baker’s competence and expertise to a degree. The “preacher’s club” named Rev. Wyatt Tee Walker to replace Baker at the helm. According to biographer Barbara Ransby, due to this prevailing patriarchy and what she deemed a focus on “mass rallies and grand exhortations by ministers without follow-up,” Baker departed the SCLC and chose to go her own womanly way.
While leaving the SCLC, Baker did not leave the work of civil rights. In 1960 after witnessing the power of student sit-ins, Baker organized the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee or SNCC (“snick”). Because of the influence of SNCC, students became the face of the Freedom Rides in 1961. These Freedom Rides from Washington, D.C. and Nashville down to Alabama led to Freedom Summer in 1964. In the heat of the day, students led volunteers from across the nation in a massive voter registration drive throughout Mississippi. Subsequently, many students formed the Students for a Democratic Society.
It is not hard to connect the dots from the student sit-ins and protests in Nashville to Baker’s work with students at lunch counters in Greensboro and Raleigh, North Carolina.
The tentacles of SNCC stretched throughout the Southeast. Annals record Lewis became one of the original freedom riders in 1961 and in 1963 SNCC’s chairman. He stood tall at the March on Washington representing this organization. However, his advocacy for non-violence learned at the feet of Lawson would come in conflict with SNCC members as he later lost the chair’s seat to Stokely Carmichael.
In the book of Deuteronomy, God offers Moses and the children of Israel the choice of “life and prosperity or death and adversity” (30:19). Ironically, God makes the decision for them and admonishes the hearers to cast their lot with life “so that their descendants may live” (v. 19). In other words, what Moses and his followers do at this intersection will influence children whom they will not live to see.
The action they take at this fork in the road will set the path for their progeny.
Additionally, the Book of Ecclesiasticus, not Ecclesiastes, upholds the significance of making proper choices. This literature, sometimes referred to as “Sirach,” is a part of the Apocryphal or Deuterocanoncial works prevalent in Catholicism. In Sirach or Ecclesiasticus chapter 15, the author makes note of “the power of ... free choice,” (v. 14) and humanity’s “choice between fire and water” (v. 16). As recorded in Deuteronomy, this book also comments that “before each person are life and death” (v. 17).
Both sacred texts offer contextual relevance in helping us see that some decisions are not mere matters of material, food, or size.
Pondering life or death choices is just that — will what you do make life better for you and the community or will what I decide possibly bring destruction to me and my neighbor? Any “choice” words spoken in haste can kill my brother’s spirit, but choosing to employ language in love can shape a girl’s self-esteem and give her promise.
Standing at the crossroads and junctures of life is not solely about our individual living. These watershed challenges should lead us to consider touching people outside our physical reach.
This is the legacy of Lawson, Lewis, and Baker.
Ella Baker seized the opportunity and made a decision that would turn the tide of history. She chose to do what far exceeded herself. Although SNCC is no longer a viable entity, and Baked died in 1986, her name, her work, and her spirit thrive.
In his remarks at Lewis’ services, Lawson averred it was Black women who made the decision to desegregate downtown Nashville. To say SNCC, Lewis, Selma, one needs also to sing her song and yes, #SayHerName — Ella Baker.
Dr. Stephanie Buckhanon Crowder
Stephanie Buckhanon Crowder, author, speaker and teacher, is a Baptist and Disciples of Christ minister who holds a Ph.D. in New Testament from Vanderbilt University. Her latest book is When Momma Speaks: The Bible and Motherhood from a Womanist Perspective. This #WomanistMomma currently serves as Associate Professor and Academic Dean at Chicago Theological Seminary.
Facebook: Stephanie Buckhanon Crowder
Twitter: @stepbcrowder
Instagram: StephBuckhanonC
Join Us for a FREE Event
Being Church Today
Monday, August 17 | 10:30am-1:00pm CDT
Church Anew has gathered a diverse group of Christian thought leaders to ignite innovation and imagination for leading congregations in a time like this. These keynote speakers will amplify the voices of local leaders from the Minneapolis area, who will share stories of how the church is leading in our own context, particularly in response to systemic racism in our communities.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Why Is It So Hard to Live as One Body?
Why is it so hard to live as one body?
Well, on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, God created the heavens and the earth. At the end of each day, God looked at what was created and God said it is good. The last day of the week God created the very first human beings and, in Genesis 1:28, God said to Adam and Eve, "You have ‘dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.’"
And just like that, everything went downhill. In other words, everything in creation was good until human beings were put in charge.
Why can't we live as one body?
Because of human beings. My sermon could be that short. Contractually, it has to be at least 14 minutes long. So, I go on. Adam and Eve had two sons, Cain and Abel. For the record, there were only four people on the face of the earth — you think that this would be manageable. They didn't even have to share a bedroom. Cain and Able have their own bedroom. Nevertheless, Cain killed his brother Abel.
Why can't you live as one body from the get go?
They couldn't. Don't worry I'm not going to go through the entire Bible, but by Genesis 6, people are so wicked and so out of control, God decides to get rid of everything except for two of every animal species and Noah and his family. What do you say we try this again?
Maybe it was just a hiccup. By the way, Noah and his family survived the flood — in case it's been a long time since confirmation. Their children have children. The world populates again. Maybe this time, things will work out better. Which brings us to today's reading [Genesis 11:1-9] where all people wanted to build a tower that reached all the way up to God.
Now here's a repeating theme alert.
The serpent in the Garden of Eden tempted Adam and Eve by saying if you eat this apple you will be like God. In this scripture text, they wanted to build a tower that would bring them to the level of God. “Hey, let's make a name for ourselves,” they said. God knew that they were getting too big for their britches. God knew that they were more than fine being the same. They all talk the same language. They all look the same. Nothing can stop us now, they thought. So God scattered the people all over creation and had them speak different languages.
Not as a penalty, rather as a gift. The only problem was apparently human beings struggle to live as one. Some things never change. I have three points.
Point #1. Even Lutherans can't seem to live with other Lutherans.
There is a town in Minnesota with a population 13,746 souls. You ready? In this town, there are eleven Lutheran churches. Eleven in one town. Population 13,746.
It is one, a business model that's flawed. Number two, it shows that we can't live as one.
One of my favorite stories? A guy is stranded on a desert island for 40 or 50 years, and this is the opposite of Castaway.
Someone finds him, comes on his Island, and says "Will you give me a tour?"
“Okay.”
He comes to a clearing there are three buildings.
What is this building?"
"That is my home. That is where I live."
"That is lovely. Good job. How about that building right there?"
"That's where I worship." "Well, that's lovely, great job. What's that other building over there?"
"That's the church I used to attend."
Hyperbole, but close, Minnesota. Eleven congregations when there should be maybe two, at most three.
On December 18, 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said "We must face the fact that in America the church is still the most segregated institution in America.” At 11 o'clock on Sunday morning, we stand saying that Christ has no east and west, we stand at the most segregated hour in this nation.
This is tragic. Nobody of honesty can overlook this. 1963 — so that was then, what about now? Here's my question for you. What is the whitest denomination in the United States of America?
Answer? We are. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America is the whitest denomination in the entire United States of America.
So here's what I think about when I dare to go there.
We're diverse enough in our thinking and our beliefs and traditions to have eleven different Lutheran churches in one community. But, when all is said and done, we're not diverse in ways that I think are helpful, deep or wide.
Point #2. Christians are expected to be like Jesus.
Actually, Jesus was a rebel from the get go. Jesus hung out with outcasts and the disease-ridden. Jesus always talked about the importance of finding equal value in all people. In fact, if one was to synthesize what Jesus said in his conversations and monologues and sermons it would be as follows: Everyone is loved by God.
Everyone is God's favorite. We read the children's story Bible. We're all, you're all God's favorites. You're all my favorites. You love your children the same. Well, so does God. Nevertheless, you have power. You have created a paradigm that always has you in the catbird's seat.
But in our world, the last will be first. The first shall be last. In our world is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave or free, nor is there male or female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. That's the expectation, and we are expected to live and treat others like Christ did.
Point #3. Now is a time to reflect, ponder, assess, confess, make amends, and then work together to create a more just world.
I was going to quote me, but that’s a little self-serving, but that was my first thought. Speaking of confessing, I also was thinking this week: How often do people of power and note and authority ever admit they're wrong?
No, really, I'm serious. The last time you heard a confession? It's always justified somehow. It's all something like, "Well, I was misunderstood."
When was the last time someone of any kind of import just said, "I was wrong and I want to change."
When I thought about that, I thought about the semester I interned at a treatment center for addicts. On my first day, it was Family Day. I thought Family Day was going to be great because all the addicts are there. I imagined the wife or husband or significant other and the kids coming and they would all hug. It was not that at all.
Instead, they had a big room and everyone invited the people closest to them, and they all, the addicts and their families sat in a big circle. And then it would be one person's turn. Let's just say the addict is a guy, a husband and a father, and he would take his chair pre-COVID and sit knee-to-knee with, in this case, his wife, the mother of their children.
And there were two rules.
Number one, the wife in this case, could say anything she wanted for as long as she felt necessary. And the second rule was the addict, in this case, the husband and father could say nothing.
I'm 100% Norwegian, grew up in a house that if you didn't like something, you kept it to yourself, and you told your therapist later.
And then all of a sudden, those wives and mothers would talk for half an hour about this scoundrel and all the things that he had done to her and their children and their lives. “This is what you did repeatedly: You lied. You cheated. You stole."
And he, in this case, had to sit there, saying nothing. When there was a break in the action, I went up to the therapist and I said, "This is ugly. This is carnage. This is terrible. You got to change the flow of this." And the therapist says "You're new here." and I said, "Mhm."
In order for there to be change, the people who were not heard, in this case the wife, needed to speak and be heard. Finally. And the one who caused the damage, or allowed it to occur, had to listen and learn.
I'm no longer talking about chemical addiction. I'm talking about life and race and gender and all things to deal with being equitable and just.
It's time for people like me, in my station in life, and the hue of my skin to sit in that chair and listen. Not speak, not justify, not explain it away. Now is the time to reflect and ponder, assess, confess, make amends and then work together to create a more just world.
This week, Congressman John Lewis died. I tend not to pay a lot of attention to politicians. I'm sorry. This is only my opinion. There are not many I hold in high esteem. But this week, Congressman Lewis died. Mr. Lewis was a civil rights leader, and he served in Congress for the great State of Georgia from 1987 to his death. I've been reading the three blogs a week from our Church Anew Blog as I have encouraged you to do too. We have contributors from all across the world, the nation who are writing, and I'm following and reading each week just like you.
This past week, in a blog entitled "Dwelling in the Cathedral of John Lewis' Spirit" by Paul Raushenbush, here is one of the many things that jumped out at me: Mr. Lewis was attacked by a group of white men in 1961. Fifty years later, 50 years later — it's never too late — one of the men and that man's son came to Mr. Lewis' office in Congress and said, "Mr. Lewis, I beat you, I attacked you. I want to apologize. Will you forgive me?" The man's son, who had been encouraging his father to do this for some time, gave Mr. Lewis a hug. So did the father, and then father and the son both started to cry.
Mr. Lewis hugged them back and said, "Yes, I forgive you." They all cried together, and from that moment on, they continued to see one another and when they did, they would call one another "brother."
Oh, and one more thing.
As Mr. Lewis reflected upon that moment and what it really means, he said in 2011, let me say it again, in 2011, this is what he said:
"That is what this movement is all about. We are one people. We are one family. We are one house. One Love."
If we didn't have to be quiet due to being in this small in-person worship gathering during COVID-19, I would have all of you stand up and shout and celebrate words that are still true and yet to be fulfilled. But may they also be grafted on our hearts and our minds.
That is what this movement is all about. We are one people. We are one family. We are one house, one love.
For those of you who are seated here at church, for those of you who are seated or laying in your bed at home watching on-line, I want you to look, and I want you to say these words to yourself. Great in theory. Let's put it to practice and practice so long that it becomes habit in the way that we are.
So help us God, Amen.
This sermon, part of a series themed “Hard Questions”, has been adapted from its original delivery during worship on Sunday, July 26th, 2020 at St. Andrew Lutheran Church, Eden Prairie, MN.
Pastor David Lillejord
Senior Pastor | St. Andrew Lutheran Church | Eden Prairie, MN
Church Anew
Join Us for a FREE Event
Being Church Today
Monday, August 17 | 10:30am-1:00pm CDT
Church Anew has gathered a diverse group of Christian thought leaders to ignite innovation and imagination for leading congregations in a time like this. These keynote speakers will amplify the voices of local leaders from the Minneapolis area, who will share stories of how the church is leading in our own context, particularly in response to systemic racism in our communities.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
A Eulogy for John Robert Lewis, “The Boy from Troy”
I was six years old when the late Congressman John Robert Lewis was beaten to near death on the Edmund Pettus Bridge on what became known as Bloody Sunday, March 7, 1965. This weekend I searched for proof that I heard about the march and the violence from CBS’s Walter Cronkite, since that’s from where our family learned all our television news in those days. I could find no footage, but I can hear the story in his voice. I do sharply remember, as a young child, the intent look on my mother’s dignified face as she listened to either television or radio in those days. I could not possibly know the weight of the moments, young as I was, but thinking back, I remember how weighty our house felt in central Alabama with all the happenings around us.
I grew up two hours northeast of Troy, Alabama, in the rural farmlands between Childersburg, where we attended school after desegregation—a story for another time—and Sylacauga, our rural route address. In the summers, we spent plenty of weeks in the blackbelt further south in either Reeltown (sic), where my paternal grandmother lived in a sharecropper’s shack and worked in white people’s homes, or Opelika, where aunts, uncles, and cousins lived “in town.” In Opelika is where I met another boy from Troy, and there we shared, maybe lamented, the world as it was and how dangerous it was for us, even as it was in the 1970s by then. I share these memories only to say that John Lewis’ landscape is the one I know intimately, the memory of walking on hot dirt, picking cotton, drinking from cool creeks are deep in my veins, and being aware of the danger of running into violent white people. We weren’t even trying to “get in the way,” as Lewis would later admonish us. We were just trying to survive.
Over the years, I have been deeply affected by Lewis’ life and commitment, partly because he reminded me so much of my own father, who would be 95 were he alive today, who was also short with a hearty laugh and a twinkle in his eyes, and a fiery preacher. That’s the part about Lewis that I want people to remember. Though he lived his call out in public life, it was the call to the life of a public theologian whose life and legislation and commitments were his primary sermons. He became known as the “Conscience of Congress.” He had a fierce strength that came through, even when he was not speaking. He never lost that country southern lilt to his voice, so I’m sure there were times people thought of him as a “country bumpkin.” I know, because in the past few years I actually heard a much, much younger activist call him that. Hearing it enraged me, but as an Alabamian myself, I know how easy it is for people to dismiss the moral courage and strength of my people. Regionalism aside, Lewis’ dignity was my parents’ dignity; my grandparents’ dignity. I have seen it all my life from ordinary black people. Lewis’s life just called him to a bigger stage, a historic role, but he was of the waft and woof of his landscape.
When the word came that Lewis died, I was not surprised since news had come a few weeks earlier that he had decided to receive hospice care for stage IV pancreatic cancer.[1] As a former hospice chaplain, I read the news knowing that he had come to death’s door with the same dignity and clear-eyed thinking as he had lived his life. That he would teach us how to die as he taught us to live made sense to me. As Lewis lies in state today, only the second black legislator to do so,[2] I honor his life. He deserves whatever accolades come toward him today and in the future. He really was the best of us as a people and as a nation. An even more deserving tribute to him will be who we will decide to be in the light of his legacy, and whether we will commit ourselves to “getting in the way” (as he often said) of injustice and instead get in “good trouble.” It will be whether those of us who are Christian follow his example for moral integrity, humility, passion for justice, and faithfulness. We still have work to do.
[1]Ralph Ellis, “Civil Rights Icon and Congressman John Lewis Dies,” https://www.webmd.com/cancer/pancreatic-cancer/news/20200718/civil-rights-icon-and-congressman-john-lewis-dies. Accessed July 27, 2020.
[2]Clare Foran, “ Elijah Cummings lies in state at the Capitol,” Elijah Cummings, who died in October 2019, was the first African American lawmaker to lie in state in the Capital Rotunda. https://www.cnn.com/2019/10/24/politics/elijah-cummings-lie-in-state-capitol/index.html. Accessed July 27, 2020.
Dr. Valerie Bridgeman
Dr. Valerie Bridgeman
Dean and Vice President for Academic Affairs
Associate Professor of Homiletics and Hebrew Bible
Methodist Theological Seminary in Ohio
Facebook | @valerie.bridgeman.3
Join Us for a FREE Event
Being Church Today
Monday, August 17 | 10:30am-1:00pm CDT
Church Anew has gathered a diverse group of Christian thought leaders to ignite innovation and imagination for leading congregations in a time like this. These keynote speakers will amplify the voices of local leaders from the Minneapolis area, who will share stories of how the church is leading in our own context, particularly in response to systemic racism in our communities.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Dwelling in the Cathedral of John Lewis' Spirit
Official Portrait of John Lewis By U.S. Congress from Wiki Commons
I’m imagining Rep. John Lewis’ spirit today, just a few days after his bodily life ended. I want to take time here, taking my hat off, entering with humility and hope, removing my shoes, gazing with wonder at the spirit’s great cathedral filled with multi-colored light streaming in through illuminating windows, each reflecting another story in his life.
And what a life.
From the beginning to the end he placed his body where he was needed most, challenging the most virulent disease of racism and was determined to be a cure. John Robert Lewis the Freedom Rider, the Civil Rights Orator, the Strategic Activist, the Breaker of Oppressive Rules, the Non-Violent Protester, the Bridge Crosser, the ‘Good Troubler’, the Vote Demander, the Righteous Legislator, the Believer in Love, the Child of God, the Follower of Jesus.
In the Cathedral, the Mosque, the Synagogue, the Temple, the Gurdwara, of John Robert Lewis’ spirit, the doors are open wide to all the people, the wisdom of every tradition is shared, where people of every nation offer a collective prayer for America, one that demands repentance, atonement, and reparation, delivered with a deep, enduring love for humanity and a belief in the power to change. It ends with a call for conversion, to come to the altar of Justice, with the promise of peace.
Oh, and the music! “Without music, the civil rights movement would have been like a bird without wings,” Lewis once said. In the Cathedral of Lewis’ spirit, the music binds the community in solidarity, awakens hearts with joy and inspiring radical praise-singing: “I woke up this morning, with my mind staying on Freedom;” “We Shall Overcome;” “But if God got us then we gon’ be alright, Do you hear me, do you feel me? We gon’ be alright.” Music created by the people for the people, rising up, mixed with prayer, lifting the vaulted ceilings up and off, the mountains and the hills joining the song, and the trees clapping their hands, reaching up to the heavens where God and all God’s angels join the Chorus singing Liberation!
In the Cathedral of Lewis’ spirit there is learning - from the lectern, around the circle, people hear the teaching of non-violence, the path of love.
Written on the walls, and engraved on the floor are the example of Jesus, the method of Gandhi, the philosophy of Thoreau, the teachings of the great religions, and the commitment to take time, to study, to be transformed to be convicted to a lifetime commitment to the way of peace and the way of love. No matter what happens. Whether beaten, whether arrested and thrown in jail, committing our lives to a new way, a better way.
In the Great Cathedral of Lewis’ spirit are many rooms, intimate spaces for encounters of reconciliation.
In one of those rooms, there is a stained-glass window that tells a particular story of one occasion in 1961, when a group of young white men attacked John Lewis and his seatmate, a young white man when they tried to enter a so-called ‘white waiting room.’ These guys jumped them, beat them, and left them lying in a pool of blood.
Almost 50 years later, one of the guys who beat John Lewis, came to his office in Congress and said, “Mr. Lewis, I beat you, I attacked you, I want to apologize, will you forgive me?” And his son, who had been encouraging his father to do this for some time, his son gave Lewis a hug, the father gave Lewis a hug, they both started crying. And Lewis hugged them back and said: “Yes, I forgive you.” And all three of them cried and continued to see one another and call one another brother.
And Lewis’ own reflections on this incident are inscribed underneath the window:
“And that is what the movement is about. We are one people, we are one family, we are one house. One love.”
Even as I get comfortable in my imaginary Cathedral, John Robert Lewis’ spirit says it’s time to go - get out into the streets, into the legislative halls, the organizing rooms, the schools, the Interfaith Spaces and do the work that religion is meant to do.
“The Church should be a headlight, not a taillight” Lewis reminds me.
Telling me again: “The church should be out front leading the way. If you are going to live up to the teachings of the Great Teacher and follow in the tradition of the great leaders of faith, you have to be out there, shining the light, preaching the Good News, and living the Good News. You have to make it real.”
As we leave the sacred hall we hear Psalm 27, ringing in our hearts like giant bells reminding us of sacred time, as stirring as the Call to Prayer, bracing like a Shofar: The Lord is my light, and my salvation; He is the strength of my life. Whom shall I fear?” So, I join the other humans, marching, dancing, praising, shouting as we join one another, thankful for the great spirit of John Robert Lewis, that lives on, in Power, in Peace, and in all of us who continue his work, to make this world more just, more loving, and to do our part in the ongoing work to create the Beloved Community.
This post originally appeared on IFYC.org, July 21, 2020, and is used with permission.
Paul Raushenbush
Paul Raushenbush is Senior Advisor for Public Affairs and Innovation at IFYC (Interfaith Youth Core) promoting a narrative of positive pluralism in America, while researching and developing cutting edge interfaith leadership. He is the Editor of Interfaith America.
Facebook | @raushenbush
Twitter | @raushenbush
Join Us for a FREE Event
Being Church Today
Monday, August 17 | 10:30am-1:00pm CDT
Church Anew has gathered a diverse group of Christian thought leaders to ignite innovation and imagination for leading congregations in a time like this. These keynote speakers will amplify the voices of local leaders from the Minneapolis area, who will share stories of how the church is leading in our own context, particularly in response to systemic racism in our communities.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.