Dearly Beloved,
I am at once encouraged, heartened, and heart broken. This last Sunday was... marvelous. I'm not sure of another word for it. It was spirit-filled and spirit-led and graced by the wisdom, humor, humility, and generosity of our youth. What a gift. WHAT A GIFT! I am humbled to get to walk alongside, to learn with and from these young people.
And I am also heartbroken. I'd like to close my heart. To say to myself: "It's just the news. You have lots going on already" and address other matters. But today... today a man named Marcellus Williams was executed when his guilt was anything but clear. St Louis County Prosecuting Attorney Wesley Bell, who had sought to have the conviction overturned said: "If there is even the shadow of a doubt of innocence, the death penalty should never be an option."
Attorney Tricia Rojo Bushness of the Midwest Innocence Project said: "Tonight, Missouri will execute an innocent man....The victim's family opposes his execution. Jurors, who originally sentenced him to death, now oppose his execution. The prosecutor's office that convicted and sentenced him to death has now admitted they were wrong and zealously fought to undo the conviction and save Mr. Williams' life.... That is not justice. And we must all question any system that would allow this to occur."
God's beloved, I cannot change what happened. But I can refuse to close my eyes to it. I can question any system (all systems) that allowed this to occur. I can allow myself to be heartbroken. I can grieve the death of a stranger whose last words were words of praise: "All Praise be to Allah in Every Situation!!!" I can lament that the country that I call home, the country that welcomed me not once but twice when I fled other lands, the country where I can marry whomever I love, where I am free to vote and speak my mind, and practice my faith, I can lament that this country allowed this to happen.
And I can remind each of us that paying attention and staying engaged matters. It matters that we be heartbroken when the justice we believe in is not carried out. It matters that we lament someone being executed if there is even a glimmer of their innocence. It matters that we acknowledge and name the ways in which racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, ageism, and so many other isms are alive, well and continuing to harm us, others whom we love, and strangers we do not know. It matters that we call out the powers at work around us and among us that are death dealing. It matters that we wonder about the ways in which we may be complicit in that harm -- bought into systems of harm. It matters. It matters.
Lament matters. For without it, there is no hope. If we learn nothing else from the Psalmist, it is that lament is the bridge between despair and hope, the bridge between isolation from God and the connection that is faithfulness.
And as we lament, we also hope. We hope because we proclaim a God of love. We hope because we know that resurrection is real. Whether or not you're 100% sure about Jesus' bodily resurrection, we know resurrection to be real because we have seen it in our fields and gardens. Because we have seen it in the life of someone we know and love who moves from death to life. Because we have experienced it for ourselves in our own lives. We hope because we proclaim that death will not have the last word -- love will. And so, let us call for the love we proclaim. Let us act for love. Let us vote for love. Let us give of ourselves for love. Let us be heartbroken for love. Let us grieve for love. Let us live for love and in love. For "just as I have loved you, you also should love one another" (Jesus giving his disciples a new commandment, John 13:34 b).
And so, God's beloved, instead of a message filled only with business, I offer you the fullness and the brokenness of my heart. And I invite you to lament as well. Light a candle. Say his name: Marcellus Williams. Get curious about how systemic racism might be at play in the execution of a black man who may have been innocent. Offer silence in place of the tens of thousands of names we do not know -- people (each one God's beloved child) killed by prejudice, greed, fear and violence. Ask God how you, how we, might be part of the change that we so long to see. Rest. Because your heart, your mind, your body and spirit must be weary (mine are!). And love the people close to you. Love in action will liberate us. And it will turn us towards justice. In love, we will be co-creators, co-tenders, of God's beloved community.
Holding each of you close in love and prayer.
Knowing that for some of you, the griefs, the losses, the health concerns of your own life and of those closest to you mean that you are already full and already heartbroken.
I am grateful that we get to walk together.
In love, lament, gratitude and hope,
Thandiwe
