Sad. Very, very sad. That's how I feel when I hear the news from Rosebud. Rosebud, population 409, is tiny town in a rural landscape that had been my home. I know it well. A highway runs through the heart of the town. On December 3, residents of Rosebud stood on that highway to block the passage of the "Journey for Justice" March between Ferguson and Jefferson City--a march sponsored by the NAACP to protest the grand jury's decision about the death of Michael Brown by Officer Darren Wilson.
In recent months our nation has been confronted again with the power of prejudice and racial profiling. Something is very wrong when folks are viewed suspiciously and treated as sinister because of the color of their skin. When what appear to be petty crimes are met with fear and excessive force, something is terribly wrong in our land. The reports from Rosebud leave me sad and depressed. The hateful signs, the outlines of bodies painted on the highway, a Confederate flag and a white hood--these reveal an evil of the heart.
Certainly not all residents of Rosebud should be judged by the actions of a few. But the words and deeds of people, who may well be sitting in the Sunday morning congregations, singing about Jesus and the grace of God, need to be confronted. This "counter protest" was intended to intimidate and humiliate other human beings, other children of God. It may all be legal, but it is not right. This display of intolerance disturbs the peace, perpetuates the distrust, and may lead to the escalation of violence. It leaves me very sad.
I wonder what I would be preaching were I a pastor in a pulpit in Rosebud in this Advent season. I wonder whether I would have the courage to mention the trouble in a prayer of confession or a sermon or a pastoral prayer. Would I have the conviction to converse about it in the coffee shop? The lesson from the First Sunday of Advent inspires a sermon: "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down" (Isaiah 64:1a). Come down to the streets of Ferguson, New York, Cleveland . . . and Rosebud right now. We need you down here now, O God, to help us get things right. Come with your justice and set everything right. We're stuck in the ruins of violence and racism. We need your intervention. We're sad and mad and confused . . . mired down, stuck.
When I was a child in a country church about ten miles from Rosebud, we learned a life-shaping Sunday School hymn: "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world . . ." In that church, missionaries from distant lands would come and teach us the importance of loving and serving others whether they were next door or around the world. African American choirs would come from St. Louis to sing gospel songs in our little church. From earliest days, I pictured a lowly Jesus who identified with the little ones of the world and gave them a voice to sing out with courage, naming their oppression and praying for deliverance. It was the church that taught me to love and to transform the highways of hate.
Well, I'm not in the neighborhood of Rosebud now. But what will I say and what will I do in response to the hostility that divides people in this world? The road through Rosebud is connected to all the other roads where old prejudices and profiling still occur. In this Advent time, I long for new hope, peace, joy, and love to be born--true gifts of God for all the people of God. My spirit is strengthened by the Gospel news: "And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory" (John 14:1). The Word becomes flesh--complicated, connected flesh. God shares our flesh and blood, our sadness and our sorrows, our living and our dying. God in Christ comes to the world, in vulnerable flesh--our common flesh. This is the Good News!
O God, come: Look at the mess we have made of things in this world!
O Jesus, come: Walk the road with us that leads to understanding, harmony, and life!
O Spirit, come: Empower us with your courage that we may embrace one another in peace!
May it be so!
May it be so now!
In recent months our nation has been confronted again with the power of prejudice and racial profiling. Something is very wrong when folks are viewed suspiciously and treated as sinister because of the color of their skin. When what appear to be petty crimes are met with fear and excessive force, something is terribly wrong in our land. The reports from Rosebud leave me sad and depressed. The hateful signs, the outlines of bodies painted on the highway, a Confederate flag and a white hood--these reveal an evil of the heart.
Certainly not all residents of Rosebud should be judged by the actions of a few. But the words and deeds of people, who may well be sitting in the Sunday morning congregations, singing about Jesus and the grace of God, need to be confronted. This "counter protest" was intended to intimidate and humiliate other human beings, other children of God. It may all be legal, but it is not right. This display of intolerance disturbs the peace, perpetuates the distrust, and may lead to the escalation of violence. It leaves me very sad.
I wonder what I would be preaching were I a pastor in a pulpit in Rosebud in this Advent season. I wonder whether I would have the courage to mention the trouble in a prayer of confession or a sermon or a pastoral prayer. Would I have the conviction to converse about it in the coffee shop? The lesson from the First Sunday of Advent inspires a sermon: "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down" (Isaiah 64:1a). Come down to the streets of Ferguson, New York, Cleveland . . . and Rosebud right now. We need you down here now, O God, to help us get things right. Come with your justice and set everything right. We're stuck in the ruins of violence and racism. We need your intervention. We're sad and mad and confused . . . mired down, stuck.
When I was a child in a country church about ten miles from Rosebud, we learned a life-shaping Sunday School hymn: "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world . . ." In that church, missionaries from distant lands would come and teach us the importance of loving and serving others whether they were next door or around the world. African American choirs would come from St. Louis to sing gospel songs in our little church. From earliest days, I pictured a lowly Jesus who identified with the little ones of the world and gave them a voice to sing out with courage, naming their oppression and praying for deliverance. It was the church that taught me to love and to transform the highways of hate.
Well, I'm not in the neighborhood of Rosebud now. But what will I say and what will I do in response to the hostility that divides people in this world? The road through Rosebud is connected to all the other roads where old prejudices and profiling still occur. In this Advent time, I long for new hope, peace, joy, and love to be born--true gifts of God for all the people of God. My spirit is strengthened by the Gospel news: "And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory" (John 14:1). The Word becomes flesh--complicated, connected flesh. God shares our flesh and blood, our sadness and our sorrows, our living and our dying. God in Christ comes to the world, in vulnerable flesh--our common flesh. This is the Good News!
O God, come: Look at the mess we have made of things in this world!
O Jesus, come: Walk the road with us that leads to understanding, harmony, and life!
O Spirit, come: Empower us with your courage that we may embrace one another in peace!
May it be so!
May it be so now!
Gary, I will pray for hearts to be enlightened in Rosebud. You write a moving piece.
ReplyDeleteMichael