Many may not realize that Divinity is a member of the Greater Cleveland Congregations (GCC), which “is a nonpartisan, multi-racial, multi-faith group of people working together to build power for social justice. [They] unite people from across Cuyahoga County to tackle issues and take actions that strengthen our communities.” This past Monday, they held a special conversation event in commemoration of the beloved Martin Luther King, Jr., at Olivet Institutional Baptist Church, where the American prophet preached in 1964, shortly after he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. They called our time together, “Where Do We Go from Here? Chaos or Community.”
I will be the first to admit that I didn’t exactly know what to expect, but that there might be a bit of guilt and shame as I drove into an area of Cleveland that isn’t quite as well-kept as the neighborhood our family calls home. Instead, it was a rather holy experience. It’s rather holy to witness a mixture of skin color inside a sanctuary, especially since the beloved 1960’s American preacher believed Sunday morning was the most segregated time in America. Not to mention, it’s rather holy to see Christians and Jewish children of God (multiple Jewish faith communities are members of GCC as well) singing songs and praying together.
It’s another level of holy to stand behind a young boy and father swaying back and forth while the assembly boldly sings, “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” which may be sometimes dubbed as the Black National Anthem, but can still ring forth to all humanity, including that parent and child who were not of that skin color (and, by the way, it’s in our Lutheran German-heritage-influenced Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal: #841). It’s a soothing level of holy to see a conversation ensue between two African American Baptist preachers, a rabbi, and the Dean of the historic downtown Trinity Church: a conversation with no demeaning tones or shouting down upon’s or an assurance of dominance needing to be taken in order to ensure a people’s place in the world.
It’s a majestic level of holy to witness a variety of ages engaging in liturgical dance, which I can’t always understand the meaning behind the movements, and I know I haven’t seen my fair share in Lutheran sanctuaries, but they still somehow managed to bring the prophetic words of a choir to greater depths. It’s also a beautiful level of holy to hear a soloist sing “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” which is one of those “oldie, but goodie” church hymns that has been sung God only knows how many infinite times since its inception, and the artist still somehow conveyed immense struggle but, for some reason, still persistent hope; as if God may just not let us go, after all.
It's a re-assuring level of holy to watch a 12-year-old boy play a portion of Beethoven’s Sonatina in G and watch the crowd rise to its feet, as if there isn’t just hope in a future generation, but that we might just be willing to support each other with even the seemingly miniscule of contributions to the betterment of humanity. It was holy to be in that place: as if that 12-year-old boy and all human beings were going to be valued regardless of gender (or a different identity beyond the mainstream comprehension), sexuality, faith tradition, citizenship status, the level of care given to the Creation as a gift for all humanity to enjoy, and on and on we could go.
It was the holiest of holy to not walk out with guilt or shame, but empowerment. Granted, there was certain recognition of the tremendous despair for far too many children of God, precious ones we are set free to take care of as best we can, emboldened by a divine love that no level of hate, evil, demeaning tones, shouting down upon’s, assurances of dominance, or death itself could possibly stop. We are meant to be set free from the guilt and shame and the mindset that we need to do this or that to ensure our place in the world, so that we may boldly take on the discipleship following Jesus Christ of helping bring a seemingly miniscule but holy level of God’s love to life. Where do we go from here? No matter the level of chaos that ensues, God will always prefer the beloved community for all God’s children. It isn’t easy to pull off, to say the least, but for some life-saving reason, we’re still following the One who went up a hillside with a cross with all the evil and hate humanity could muster, and ended up rising victoriously with a love beyond our understanding. Thanks be to God, indeed!
In Christ,
Pastor Brad
For more information about Greater Cleveland Congregations, please visit: https://greaterclevelandcongregations.org/