Black Lives Matter – We Do this Work Out of Deep, Abiding Love
“Greater love has no man than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).
As a result of Moral Monday’s nonviolent civil disobedience action that brought together clergy, people of faith, and people of conscience from across the nation, I sat in a jail cell with people who supported the Black Lives Matter movement out of deep moral and religious conviction. We risked arrest to confront the Department of Justice by reclaiming its building as sacred space under the dominion of Divine power. We anointed one another in our holy struggles for justice. We held the Department of Justice morally accountable for implementing the recommendations of its report on the Ferguson Police Department. By extension, we indicted all police departments with similarly racist and morally reprehensible practices. When we sat in jail for the crime of prophetic witness, we noticed that one officer had “John 15:13” tattooed on their arm. We whispered to each other, “John 15:13… what’s John 15:13?” We joked that the Dean of Eden Theological Seminary was in the next cell—maybe she would know…
Later, I read John 15:13 and wondered, The question is, who are your friends? Some of those who were arrested as a result of Moral Monday suffered bruises from being pinched and shoved by officers, deep indents from zipties that cut into their wrists, and hands that turned purple or lost nerve sensation when zipties cut circulation off for too long. Some experienced psychological terror from threats by officers of bodily harm, sexual violence, and isolation. The officers were not protecting us, they were hurting us. We were clearly not their friends.
John 15:13 was not etched into the skin on its own—it sat on a blue line. The design suggested that the friends in question were other police officers, those in blue. With the blue backdrop, the verse took on a military and fraternal tone. This fraternal police culture deepens the “us versus them” mentality created by militarized policing, with SWAT teams wearing bulletproof vests, carrying rifles and canisters of tear gas, hiding behind Plexiglas shields, positioned as snipers atop tanks, threatening unarmed dreamers and mourners who dare to speak out against the racist, deadly status quo.Â
The Requiem for Mike Brown sung at the St. Louis Symphony seems to adopt a similar “us versus them” mentality with the opening line, “Which side are you on friends, which side are you on?” But this line is followed by the harmonizing, unifying refrain, “Justice for Mike Brown is justice for us all…” The song acknowledges that racism, debtors’ prisons, and militarized policing created rifts and fractures in the St. Louis community. However, justice for Mike Brown, and by extension, justice for all black people, would unite us all.
The #UnitedWeFight march from Vonderrit Myers’ memorial uplifted this vision of unity and justice. Leading the march with one #UnitedWeFight banner were Muslims for Ferguson, Palestine Solidarity Committee, Latinos en Axión Stl, Asian and Pacific Islanders for Black Lives, and Hands Up United. White supremacy creates a black-white binary in St. Louis. White supremacy promotes infighting, invisibility, and isolation among people of color in St. Louis. But the dream of unifying justice is incarnate when people of color march in solidarity with white folks for black liberation.
The Black Lives Matter movement has awakened the valley of dry bones in my soul. Whereas hope for healing racism in US-America often rings hollow in the clattering bones of my spirit, the Black Lives Matter movement puts flesh and breath on those bones, causing them to rise and dance. Momma Cat nourishes the protestors, radically welcoming all to the Lord’s Supper, feeding the 5,000 who are hungry for justice, making food as sumptuous and miraculous as manna and quail in the desert. KB Frazier drums to call on our ancestors for strength and invite all to join in a vision of restorative justice. Elizabeth Vega creates the playful disruption of the Holy Spirit, constructing community, critique, and comedy through art so that the haughty might be brought low and the poor in spirit be lifted up. As Dorothy said, “I saw theology walk off the paper and come to life.”
The eschatological creed of the Black Lives Matter movement exclaims, “I….! I believe! I believe that we will win!” The modern day miracles of the Black Lives Matter movement strengthen my faith that the year of Jubilee is coming, that justice will be restored once more, and we will rejoice in life abundant. “I believe that we will win!” is an invitation to join in the sacred work of creating the reign of love on Earth. I am called by Ella’s song, which asserts that “Until the killing of black men, black mothers’ sons, is as important as the killing of white men, white mothers’ sons, we who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes.”
I am challenged by Rev. Renita Lamkin’s questions, “What are you willing to risk? If you haven’t risked everything, you’ve risked nothing! Are you willing to put your resources to work? Are you willing to put your body on the line? Are you willing to suffer the exact same treatment that your black and brown siblings suffer? Are you willing to suffer with them?” When I reflect on the considerations that hold me back from fully engaging with the Black Lives Matter movement, I realize that all of my justifications pale in comparison to the intolerable treatment that black people face in US-America. If I truly profess to love my black siblings, I must be willing to totally devote my resources, my body, and my heart to the Black Lives Matter movement. It is my work as a pastor, preacher, and chaplain that I am compelled to support the Black Lives Matter movement. No greater love have I experienced than this, to lay down my life with my family, a family that welcomes all who believe in liberation and justice.
Essentially, Rev. Renita’s soul-stirring questions ask, “Are you willing to fight for black liberation out of deep, abiding love?” To these questions, I must answer in the words of Assata Shakur: “It is our duty to fight for our freedom! It is our duty to win! We must love and support each other! We have nothing to lose but our chains!”