Have Not Our Weary Feet

Of course the last thing I wanted to do, after arriving home from work at 5:30 on a warm Tuesday, was to go anywhere and do anything. So why in God's name did I change my trousers, gather a few items, and drive into downtown for a local gathering?
In God's name is why.

The purpose of the gathering is not the point of this reflection. Except to say that the gathering was arranged hastily, as part of a national day of speaking and action, that most of the people present had learned about only that day or, at best, last Saturday. I think I heard something about it on Sunday evening, maybe.

And as it turned out, I was the only person present dressed in clericals: the black shirt and white collar, the colorful stole. I was not the only clergyperson present. We found one another, as we always do, knowing our tribe's scents, or aurae, or what have you. But most of the people at this gathering were female, and several of them thanked me for showing up, in clericals, representing, and saying to them: "Freedom is of God."

A local march-and-rally buddy who has one of those machines that makes buttons wasn't handing out many buttons that day (normally she asks $1 each, which I pay gladly), but she gave me one that reads, "God trusts women." This is a message that everyone needs to hear.

Afterward, as we stood in little clusters and visited, I had the privilege of conversation with a local minister of another Protestant denomination. He is, if I had to guess, maybe in his seventies. His wife and young-adult son were at the gathering as well. He learned about the gathering only that morning.

He listened and I spoke and I listened and he spoke.

He was gracious enough to affirm in me the authenticity of my lifelong, persistent invitation - urging, even - from God to "show up, stand up, speak up, speak out." We talked about hope, and about Rep. John Lewis (D-GA 5).

The title of today's reflection comes from "Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing." It is a poem by James Weldon Johnson, a native (like me!) of Florida, although his experiences are nothing like mine. He wrote it in 1919 for a celebration of the birthday of Abraham Lincoln. His brother, John Rosamond Johnson, composed music for it. Since the 1930s, if not before, it is informally known as the "Negro National Anthem." It appears in hymnals, including the 1978 and 2006 hymnals of the ELCA.

The poem traces the journey - always toward freedom, toward life, toward hope - granted by God to any who find themselves in bondage, in death, without hope. It has strong echoes of the Exodus with Moses (not so incidentally, the nickname that slaves gave to Harriet Tubman).

Here is a link to the poem. https://poets.org/poem/lift-every-voice-and-sing

I urge you to read the poem. If you don't know the hymn, please find it and hear it. Even better, find it and sing it.

What happens in you and me when we hear voices from outside our own lived lives? Does not that grant us the kind of authentic freedom that God so deeply desires for each of God's beloved creations?