Twelfth Sunday After Pentecost
Wicker Park Lutheran Church
Rev. Kwame Pitts
August 12, 2018
The sounds from the jail cells of the Wilmington Ten
Are echoes of a massacre keeping Black freedom locked in
The sounds of struggle you hear that are filling your world today
Are echoes of the voices your fathers killed and smothered away
You can steal my tongue
I dare you to try to hush my song
My screams of freedom will flood the air
Of your children – centuries unborn
Good morning,
I bring you greetings
From your fellow sisters, brothers and siblings in Christ
Of Body and Soul UChicago Campus Ministry,
At Augustana Lutheran Church,
Where we are committed
To living out our faith,
Through concrete action,
Because who are we to tell someone,
that they should just pound the pavement
until they find a job,
when we know that the system
is corrupted
and instead,
we give of ourselves
not only through sacred worship
but the sharing
of sacred
food,
that should always come
without price,
and cost.
We can spout Scripture,
Twisting it to judge people,
Based on our understanding
And definition
Of morality.
But we rarely,
Live it out.
The elephant
In the room
For many Christians,
Is the word
“responsibility”
“Responsibility,”
Quotes Dr. Michael Battle,
In his article
About the incarceration of Black Spirituality
And the disenfranchised,
“means not just that
We are responsible to others,
And that others have a right to demand
Certain kinds of behavior
From us,
We are also responsible
FOR each other.
Each of us
Must answer
For someone else’s welfare,
As well as our own,
And that means
That someone else
Must answer for us,
Whose concern
Is
Our
Welfare.”
We,
As Christians
In this American context
Have done a poor job
With hearing the WORD
And allowing that WORD
To feed us
Allowing that WORD
To nurture those seeds
That the Creator planted
Within us
Allowing the WORD
To heal us
When we stumble back,
Reeling from the poison
That this world
Has forced
Into
Our
Very
Being.
I had a conversation
With my Mother
A couple of nights ago,
As an Elder and matriarch of our family,
She should be
Enjoying this season of her life.
But each morning
She asks of the Creator,
To give her purpose
And an opportunity
To serve.
She told me the story
Wednesday evening
How she spent helping a young woman
Of 29
And her 5 children
Who
Were homeless.
My mother lives in South Holland, IL
It is the place I first served after I was ordained
It is also the place I became even more disillusioned
With those who identify,
But do not walk
Or follow
The Risen One,
Jesus Christ.
In this entire suburb,
With more churches
Per square foot,
None of them
Were open,
None of them
Were willing
None of them,
Answered my mother’s call
For assistance.
The local police,
Disregarded
This young mother,
Disregarded perhaps,
The WORD that I would hope
Was being preached and taught
In those holier than thou churches
That I knew,
Many of these public servants
Were “members”
“So then,
putting away falsehood,
let all of us speak the truth
to our neighbors,
for we are members of one another”
But apparently,
These teachings,
These words here,
Hold no weight
For police officers
Who only saw
Michael Brown’s skin
And decided
That he was a threat
That merely needed to be
Eliminated
These people
Watching the anguish of a city
Pointing and judging a community
Saying
“Are these not the same
POOR
PEOPLE.
The children of
Ferguson,
Because we never bothered to build relationships
With their mothers
And fathers
And we know,
Won’t amount
To anything.
Why are they
Protesting?
Why are they
Resisting?
Why are they
Reacting?
Is this not
Heather Heyer,
Daughter of Susan,
Whom none of us knew
Until
A white supremacist
Decided that her body was not sacred enough
That he could not see,
The reflection of the One
Who proclaimed
“I am the living bread
that came down from heaven!”
That Good News,
That is for all of us.
Instead,
Heather’s life
Was not sacred enough
As another fellow beloved
Of the One
Who cradled us,
Breathed us
Into this Life
And surely,
Recognizes all of us,
As the Creator did of Heather,
And Michael
And Martin
And Dr. James Cone
And Dr. Katie Cannon
And Tamir
And Travyon
And called them,
Back
Beyond the veil
into
Eternal
Life.
But,
We miss the WORD!
We push away from the Table,
The Good FOOD
We frown at the Bread
Before us
Instead filling our very being
With other things.
That never satisfy our cravings
And can we talk about the shade
Jesus throws here?
“Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness,
and they died”
Like Jesus gets real.
This physical food,
That we think can cure all
Cannot.
This human made power,
That we think can fulfill our every wish
Cannnot.
These status symbols,
This selfish way of living
That we think can make our lives great again,
CANNOT.
Especially,
When we’re not even living
According to what Jesus Christ had been teaching the people,
His disciples
Those non believers-
Who did not want to believe in Jesus
Because His way,
God’s Word,
The Spirit feeding us
Makes us
Uncomfortable
Because then,
We live our lives
For others,
And not just
For ourselves
When we refuse,
this life giving food,
that Jesus gives of Himself
and feeds us
“and the bread
that I will give
for the life of the world
is my flesh.”
“Let no evil talk
come out of your mouths,
but only what is useful for building up,
as there is need,
so that your words
may give grace
to those who hear.”
Who needs to hear,
From you
Who needs to be fed
With the food you carry,
Which comes from the seeds
Planted within,
How will we remember,
Repent
And
Repair
What will we commit to?