A friend of mine sent an email to a clergy support group that I am a part of. The title was
‘Atlanta is Burning.” Having been raised in a civil war town where battles are re-enacted annually and a museum boasts participation in a Southern victory over a Northern supply route, I can tell you that phrase is a little triggering for me but maybe not in the way you might expect.
When I was a child, my family watched the annual broadcasts of “Gone With The Wind” as though it were a sacred duty. I even remember the last time we watched it because I asked if I had to watch it. Of course, I was told no. Watching it was just something that we had always done together, but it wasn’t required.
I was also raised with a revisionist history taught in school that essentially said, “Slavery was bad, but some masters were nice, and some were even black. Oh, lynchings also happened, but Civil Rights and Affirmative Action leveled the playing field, so everything is fine now.”
As an adult, raised in the aftermath of the Civil Rights era, I began to question the assumptions and presumptions of my youth. In my travels and studies, I visited slave castles in Africa. I walked the path in Richmond, VA where humans were imported like cattle under the cover of night. I went to the places in Savannah, GA where we exported slaves after their import was banned, and I went to the church where the Underground Railroad began. I’ve also stood in the pulpit where Dr. King preached, and I’ve toured the museum in Atlanta that is dedicated to his legacy.
So what? So, I’ve done some white, liberal, racial tourism. You could call it that. For me, it has been more of a pilgrimage. It’s been a pilgrimage that I did not even know I was on until it started forming and unfolding before me. Really it’s been more of a journey in search of truth and understanding. So far – as a white, middle-class male in the Southern US – it’s been somewhat of a luxury and really more of a thought experiment to ask myself, “What would I have done if I were there?”
Last Sunday that all changed when protestors lined the streets and even gathered on our lawn and used our picnic tables and parked in our parking lot. Yet we were not here as a worshiping community, because we are still worshiping online out of concern for the spread of COVID 19.
There were a few of our members that did come to the protest, and my daughter and I joined toward the end of the event after worship had ended. I wore my collar and stood by our sign, largely because I wanted others to know that the church is not deaf to their cries. Not only that, but just a few moments before deciding to go, in worship, we had spoken about the way the Holy Spirit works through us in order to “hear voices long silenced,” and I simply could not stay home after that.
Now, as a matter of full disclosure, I also felt embarrassed at my half-hearted response, and my hope is that we can take this opportunity to hear the cries for justice being spoken around the world as an opportunity for self-reflection and understanding that can lead us, by God’s Spirit, into action.
I say all of this not as a political agenda, but to acknowledge the context in which we are receiving God’s word today, as God’s people. Context matters. It changes the way we perceive and understand events.
In Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth, he was responding to all kinds of conflicts. There was in-fighting between the Jews and the Hellenists (old members and new members), there were arguments over money and privilege, over who sits in which pew, and over practices that might not have been relevant to some individuals but were still discouraging to the faith of others.
While that may sound a little too familiar to some, the ending of the letter is the part that is really confronting. Before wrapping it all up with a nice little peck on the cheek and a wagging finger that says, “Y’all play nice, now,” Paul tells them to check their egos.
“Test yourselves,” he says, “Test yourselves to see whether you are living the faith, for Christ lives in you.” That doesn’t mean, “Check this box if you know Jesus loves you.” It means, “by your fruits you shall be known.”
It means that the key to being at peace, in the words of Dr. King, “is not the absence of conflict. It is the presence of justice.”
While there have been plenty of Dr. King quotes thrown around in the last week, particularly by white people, there has also been a lot of confusion over what justice looks like, particularly by those with the most power, and particularly by those whose power has been threatened. In the midst of all of that, I submit that there are also a lot of people and communities that are getting it right, from a Biblical perspective.
Here in Lafayette, we may be proud to say that protesters did not get violent, but we also have to acknowledge the fact that our police and local authorities at least seemed to listen. In other states, and across the country, police officers not only took a knee in support of the protestors but even marched with them!
Still, the question remains, “How did we get here, and what do we do about it?” or, as I asked others on social media, “What the world needs now is _____.” Now most of you know I love that song, and several people responded with “love, sweet love.”
Others responded with variants on the theme: compassion, listening, justice. A few others had some more practical and specific ways to express love, compassion, and justice, but one of my favorite interactions was when a friend said, “Jesus.” Then another said, sardonically, “a punch in the throat,” and someone else followed emphatically with, “JESUS!”
It made me think of the great commission in our gospel reading in a new way. The context of that reading is after the resurrection. It is the Pentecost moment from Mathew’s perspective. Jesus, whom they saw die on a cross, appeared to some of the women and then some of the disciples and arranged a meeting with all of them in Galilee.
The soldiers who saw it were bribed to begin a disinformation campaign of fake news that his body was stolen, yet there he was – meeting with his disciples. It was the greatest display of truth ever known, but still, there were those who doubted.
So it is with us when we think it is all up to us, or when we expect God to act on our terms. So it is when we hear Christ’s clear call to baptize in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Inspiring Active Presence of God, but all we want is to do is to sing Jesus Loves Me so that we can feel safe in our personal relationship with God.
I hope you know that I’m as guilty of that as anyone. So was Paul. He even said, “For we rejoice when we are weak and you are strong. This is what we pray for, that you may become perfect.” Perfect is a pretty high standard, but only when we limit it to ourselves.
In the movie, “Remember the Titans” there is a beautiful scene in which the coach feels defeated and is trying not to show it to a team of teenagers that have overcome racial differences during a time in which the nation seemed to be ripping at the seam. He told them, “You did your best, be proud of that. It’s all I ever asked.” Then one of the players stepped up and said, “With all due respect, Coach, that’s not what you have asked of us. You asked us to be perfect. So far, we haven’t lost a game. We’ve made mistakes, we’ve had injuries, but together we are perfect. I don’t think that needs to change.”
After that, lead players sacrificed fame for others, giving up their places on the team. Coaches coordinated between offense and defense. Creativity, and humility, and mutual submission made space for perfection, and they demonstrated love and mercy and forgiveness in a field of conflict that is as American as pie!
Now it is time that we do the same. Like it or not, our history is steeped in racial conflict, and the church is not being asked to “do our best.” We are being called toward perfection, and the good news is that we are not alone. Yes, the world needs Jesus, but also yes, the world has Jesus!
Check yourself. Test yourself. As someone who is created in the image of the one who is the Creator of all that is, the Redeemer of all that is broken, and the Inspiring Presence of responsive love, you and me and all who follow Jesus are co-missioned. We’re in this mission together – and Jesus is in it with us – because we cannot do it alone!
On our own, all we can do is make Armchair Quarterback calls about obvious needs without even understanding the context, but the real question is, “What does our faith compel us to do about it?” What the world needs now is for faith and action to connect in a way that every knee will bend and every heart will break. Then our mouths will no longer need to proclaim Christ as Lord because our actions will be shouting so loudly that no one would hear them anyway.
At least, that is the hope of the gospel as I understand it. In order to get there, we do need to take time on a regular basis to reflect on our own faith and God’s calling in our lives as individuals, but in the long run, we’re in it together – and thank God for that!
Amen.
‘Atlanta is Burning.” Having been raised in a civil war town where battles are re-enacted annually and a museum boasts participation in a Southern victory over a Northern supply route, I can tell you that phrase is a little triggering for me but maybe not in the way you might expect.
When I was a child, my family watched the annual broadcasts of “Gone With The Wind” as though it were a sacred duty. I even remember the last time we watched it because I asked if I had to watch it. Of course, I was told no. Watching it was just something that we had always done together, but it wasn’t required.
I was also raised with a revisionist history taught in school that essentially said, “Slavery was bad, but some masters were nice, and some were even black. Oh, lynchings also happened, but Civil Rights and Affirmative Action leveled the playing field, so everything is fine now.”
As an adult, raised in the aftermath of the Civil Rights era, I began to question the assumptions and presumptions of my youth. In my travels and studies, I visited slave castles in Africa. I walked the path in Richmond, VA where humans were imported like cattle under the cover of night. I went to the places in Savannah, GA where we exported slaves after their import was banned, and I went to the church where the Underground Railroad began. I’ve also stood in the pulpit where Dr. King preached, and I’ve toured the museum in Atlanta that is dedicated to his legacy.
So what? So, I’ve done some white, liberal, racial tourism. You could call it that. For me, it has been more of a pilgrimage. It’s been a pilgrimage that I did not even know I was on until it started forming and unfolding before me. Really it’s been more of a journey in search of truth and understanding. So far – as a white, middle-class male in the Southern US – it’s been somewhat of a luxury and really more of a thought experiment to ask myself, “What would I have done if I were there?”
Last Sunday that all changed when protestors lined the streets and even gathered on our lawn and used our picnic tables and parked in our parking lot. Yet we were not here as a worshiping community, because we are still worshiping online out of concern for the spread of COVID 19.
There were a few of our members that did come to the protest, and my daughter and I joined toward the end of the event after worship had ended. I wore my collar and stood by our sign, largely because I wanted others to know that the church is not deaf to their cries. Not only that, but just a few moments before deciding to go, in worship, we had spoken about the way the Holy Spirit works through us in order to “hear voices long silenced,” and I simply could not stay home after that.
Now, as a matter of full disclosure, I also felt embarrassed at my half-hearted response, and my hope is that we can take this opportunity to hear the cries for justice being spoken around the world as an opportunity for self-reflection and understanding that can lead us, by God’s Spirit, into action.
I say all of this not as a political agenda, but to acknowledge the context in which we are receiving God’s word today, as God’s people. Context matters. It changes the way we perceive and understand events.
In Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth, he was responding to all kinds of conflicts. There was in-fighting between the Jews and the Hellenists (old members and new members), there were arguments over money and privilege, over who sits in which pew, and over practices that might not have been relevant to some individuals but were still discouraging to the faith of others.
While that may sound a little too familiar to some, the ending of the letter is the part that is really confronting. Before wrapping it all up with a nice little peck on the cheek and a wagging finger that says, “Y’all play nice, now,” Paul tells them to check their egos.
“Test yourselves,” he says, “Test yourselves to see whether you are living the faith, for Christ lives in you.” That doesn’t mean, “Check this box if you know Jesus loves you.” It means, “by your fruits you shall be known.”
It means that the key to being at peace, in the words of Dr. King, “is not the absence of conflict. It is the presence of justice.”
While there have been plenty of Dr. King quotes thrown around in the last week, particularly by white people, there has also been a lot of confusion over what justice looks like, particularly by those with the most power, and particularly by those whose power has been threatened. In the midst of all of that, I submit that there are also a lot of people and communities that are getting it right, from a Biblical perspective.
Here in Lafayette, we may be proud to say that protesters did not get violent, but we also have to acknowledge the fact that our police and local authorities at least seemed to listen. In other states, and across the country, police officers not only took a knee in support of the protestors but even marched with them!
Still, the question remains, “How did we get here, and what do we do about it?” or, as I asked others on social media, “What the world needs now is _____.” Now most of you know I love that song, and several people responded with “love, sweet love.”
Others responded with variants on the theme: compassion, listening, justice. A few others had some more practical and specific ways to express love, compassion, and justice, but one of my favorite interactions was when a friend said, “Jesus.” Then another said, sardonically, “a punch in the throat,” and someone else followed emphatically with, “JESUS!”
It made me think of the great commission in our gospel reading in a new way. The context of that reading is after the resurrection. It is the Pentecost moment from Mathew’s perspective. Jesus, whom they saw die on a cross, appeared to some of the women and then some of the disciples and arranged a meeting with all of them in Galilee.
The soldiers who saw it were bribed to begin a disinformation campaign of fake news that his body was stolen, yet there he was – meeting with his disciples. It was the greatest display of truth ever known, but still, there were those who doubted.
So it is with us when we think it is all up to us, or when we expect God to act on our terms. So it is when we hear Christ’s clear call to baptize in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Inspiring Active Presence of God, but all we want is to do is to sing Jesus Loves Me so that we can feel safe in our personal relationship with God.
I hope you know that I’m as guilty of that as anyone. So was Paul. He even said, “For we rejoice when we are weak and you are strong. This is what we pray for, that you may become perfect.” Perfect is a pretty high standard, but only when we limit it to ourselves.
In the movie, “Remember the Titans” there is a beautiful scene in which the coach feels defeated and is trying not to show it to a team of teenagers that have overcome racial differences during a time in which the nation seemed to be ripping at the seam. He told them, “You did your best, be proud of that. It’s all I ever asked.” Then one of the players stepped up and said, “With all due respect, Coach, that’s not what you have asked of us. You asked us to be perfect. So far, we haven’t lost a game. We’ve made mistakes, we’ve had injuries, but together we are perfect. I don’t think that needs to change.”
After that, lead players sacrificed fame for others, giving up their places on the team. Coaches coordinated between offense and defense. Creativity, and humility, and mutual submission made space for perfection, and they demonstrated love and mercy and forgiveness in a field of conflict that is as American as pie!
Now it is time that we do the same. Like it or not, our history is steeped in racial conflict, and the church is not being asked to “do our best.” We are being called toward perfection, and the good news is that we are not alone. Yes, the world needs Jesus, but also yes, the world has Jesus!
Check yourself. Test yourself. As someone who is created in the image of the one who is the Creator of all that is, the Redeemer of all that is broken, and the Inspiring Presence of responsive love, you and me and all who follow Jesus are co-missioned. We’re in this mission together – and Jesus is in it with us – because we cannot do it alone!
On our own, all we can do is make Armchair Quarterback calls about obvious needs without even understanding the context, but the real question is, “What does our faith compel us to do about it?” What the world needs now is for faith and action to connect in a way that every knee will bend and every heart will break. Then our mouths will no longer need to proclaim Christ as Lord because our actions will be shouting so loudly that no one would hear them anyway.
At least, that is the hope of the gospel as I understand it. In order to get there, we do need to take time on a regular basis to reflect on our own faith and God’s calling in our lives as individuals, but in the long run, we’re in it together – and thank God for that!
Amen.
Comments