Grown Weary

Sermon

In the past 12 days, tens of thousands of people in the U.S. have been marching in a pent-up demand for racial justice. During this week, a few have said that they’ve been on the front lines rallying for this change for decades, and they are weary. And, I’ve heard younger people say, “Racism in this country will never change.”

The passage from Hebrews, written in another time of turmoil and meant to strengthen faith, recalls to us the “great cloud of witnesses”: heroes who have come before.

Have you heard about the longest protest in U.S. history? Concepcion Picciotto kept an anti-nuclear peace vigil at the White House for thirty-five years. Her protest spanned from 1981 to 2016, when she died. Picciotto’s presence on Pennsylvania Avenue outlasted the entire administrations of four American presidents (Reagan, Bush, Clinton, and Bush) and nearly a fifth (Obama). Tenacity and resolve don’t even begin to describe her.

Another marathon peacemaker is Rep. John Lewis of Georgia. As a 23-year-old, in 1963, he was the youngest leader to march with the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He was beaten and jailed repeatedly. In an interview this past week, he was asked how he kept going even when he received such brutal treatment. He said, “We never gave up. We gave our bodies to redeem the soul of the nation.” He said that the difference between the protests today and the protests in 1963 are the massive numbers around the globe and the all-inclusive nature of the demonstrators.

We look back over four hundred years in this nation and the original sin of slavery that has never been sufficiently confessed, repented of, and put right. However uncomfortable we may be right now, it may very well be the movement of the Holy Spirit that is inspiring massive and all-inclusive demonstrations.

Our scripture from Hebrews says, “Let us lay aside every weight and sin that clings so closely, and run with perseverance the race that is set before us.”

This is not a sprint. This is a marathon. And, it is a relay marathon. We are doing it together, not as a solo event. This race has been endured by black, indigenous, and people of color for centuries. The worldwide demonstrations now show that more than ever, we race together.

This week, I had a wonderful conversation with musician and activist Melanie DeMore. She’s the composer of the song I sang at the beginning of this service, “Put One Foot in Front of the Other and Lead with Love.” She wrote that song while visiting Minneapolis to do music with a congregation there and with a middle-school group of kids. Two of the black youths asked her (a black woman), “Are we going back to slavery now?” Her song came in response, including the words: “I know you’re scared. Well, I’m scared, too. But here I am, right next to you.” Our marathon for justice is a team effort.

Many of us are asking, but what can I do? There are so many ways right now to move us forward. Tonight, we will have a Zoom conversation on racial justice. (Details are in the Westminster Weekly e-mail.) And, I’ve listed some of the ways to move forward on Westminster’s Facebook page and at the end of the printed version of this sermon. Most importantly, we can’t let this moment pass. We must cross the finish line.

Saying that “Black Lives Matter” is only the very beginning glimmer of where we need to be. What we need is to feel that the knee on the neck of a black man is the knee on our own neck. The jogger murdered on his run is us. The emergency room technician, sitting in her own apartment, surprised by the battering ram through her door, shot and killed—that’s our apartment. She is us.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us …”

In a few moments, we are going to share (virtually) the Lord’s Supper, a symbolic meal of one loaf and one cup. Today, as we eat and drink, we will persevere, looking to Jesus, who endured such hostility against himself from sinners. He shows us, by giving of himself, that God’s love won’t be defeated by death. We can take heart in that and not grow weary or lose heart.

An Episcopal priest friend in Minneapolis, Doug, shared this story about what has happened at the spot where George Floyd was murdered. He said that a few days ago an artist painted at that spot, on Chicago Avenue, the names of black and brown bodies murdered throughout the nation. When you come to the intersection of 38th St. and Chicago Avenue you see that people have laid flowers and prayers and painted other works of art on the street.

This place fills you with energy; it is peaceful while full of lamentation. Last night someone brought a piano to the streets and people played and sang. Last night a D.J. showed up and they had a dance party! And there is food—but the food is free. There are food shelves, there are men with huge grills grilling slabs of meat, there are restaurants that come with truckloads of prepared meals, there are food trucks that make two dishes and all of this is free.

Doug asked the food-truck person, how are you doing this? He said, “At first we used up everything in the freezer, then we put it on social media and people donated.” All of this abundance in the midst of a pandemic and in the midst of at least 40 million people without jobs.

A great cloud of witnesses …

Don’t give up hope! You’re not alone! Don’t give up! Keep movin’ on. . .