Were you there

I participated in a protest/solidarity march this past Thursday, June 4th. Fort Wayne has been having protests in the streets for just over a week now. Some have resulted in violence and damage, most (like this one) have been peaceful.

I believe the march was organized by Resist Fort Wayne and an unofficial leader of the protests Alien Nature. These are actual protestors for Black Lives Matter, and not affiliated with the fringe groups on the right or the left. There is a difference. The mayor, chief of police, and other city leaders were invited to join this march to try to bring both sides together to address issues at the heart of racism, white supremacy, and related events taking place across the nation in the wake of the brutal killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer on May 25th.

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My participation in this event was merely to observe. I certainly feel for the black community and their concerns over racism and injustice. I know first hand the subtle hold it has on white America. My smalltown Midwest upbringing carries with it a certain level of complicity if by nothing other than my skin color.

While I have always tried to be empathetic to minorities, it is impossible for me to fully understand - because I cannot be something I am not. So I honestly don't know what place I can take in speaking out. I did, however, want to 'be there.' I wanted to at least witness part of what's going on in Fort Wayne first-hand. I get people wanting to post things on social media, but I have been hesitant without being a little more involved personally. I don't want to be a 'back-seat-driver' or 'arm-chair quarterback.'

I wrote the other day of a conversation I had with a white police officer. The next day I ran into a black co-worker, and I really wanted to talk with him about the subject. It didn't work out that we could, but I intend to at some point. I want to ask him what it feels like - what with all the protests going on and such. Also, what, if anything, I can do to show support (without getting in the way).

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So, my thoughts from the march...

I arrived after the group had already departed in front of the courthouse and were walking the several blocks down Clinton Street to the Martin Luther King, Jr. bridge. As you can see from my pictures, I stayed a safe distance from the crowd (I also wore a mask). Even at the bridge, where different community leaders took turns with the microphone, I kept my distance. I'm still adamant about social distancing guidelines.

As I walked along, I was first of all surprised at the number of people who had their kids. It seemed many of them were mixed bi-racial families. I wondered what the kids were thinking.

I was admittedly a little cynical about the number of young white people. Honestly, I guessed many were there for nothing more than the attention and possible chance for drama. This was unfair of me, though, because it's likely many were there for the same reasons I was. Perhaps they don't know what to do but know they need to do something. Anyhow, I tried to just observe without judgment. That's not always easy for me.

As I stood back from the crowd and listened to the mayor, police chief, Alien Nature, and other city and church leaders, at first it seemed like typical rhetoric. I was a little disappointed at the trite catchphrases and it seemed this was nothing more than a photo op (though not in the same vein as the president's famous 'Bible holding' incident). This left me feeling sad and a bit empty. Was this really all it was going to be? So I didn't participate in any applause or chants or "turn to your neighbor and tell them ____."

It was towards the end when someone prayed though... I'm assuming it was a black pastor, though unlike most of the others, he simply wore a t-shirt and had a ball cap on. But his prayer spoke to me. It seemed heartfelt, honest, and on point. There were a few awkward moments of applause, amens, and hallelujahs, but it was more what it did inside of me than any effect it may have had on the crowd that pleased me. I finally felt 'connected.'

Eventually everyone turned and started back towards the courthouse where the protest would continue into the night. I tried my best to keep my distance, but when we were met by some anti-protesters (protesting the protesters), things got somewhat bottled up. At one point I turned around and Alien Nature was actually right behind me. Anyway, once we got to the courthouse I decided to leave, as a larger crowd was gathering, plus Jane was getting off work, it was hot, and I had had a long day.

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As I reflected on things over the next couple days, my mind kept coming back to the old hymn, "Were You There." The original 1899 lyrics are:

Were you there when they crucified my Lord? (Were you there?)
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
O sometimes it causes me to tremble! tremble! tremble!
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they nail'd him to the cross? (Were you there?)
Were you there when they nail'd him to the cross?
O sometimes it causes me to tremble! tremble! tremble!
Were you there when they nail'd him to the cross?

Were you there when they pierced him in the side? (Were you there?)
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
O sometimes it causes me to tremble! tremble! tremble!
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?

Were you there when the sun refused to shine? (Were you there?)
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
O sometimes it causes me to tremble! tremble! tremble!
Were you there when the sun refused to shine? 

I'll be honest, I'm not sure if I was aware this was believed to have been composed by enslaved African-Americans, and was the first spiritual included in any major American hymnal. 

In his "History of Hymns" article, David Bjorlin notes that the series of questions in the song are obviously not meant to be taken literally (none of us were physically present), rather the questions are meant to function as a form of anamnesis. Bjorlin defines it as such:

From the Greek, anamnesis literally means to remember. Yet, it is much more than simple mental recall of an event. It calls the community to re-member the past to the present, to bring these historic events to bear on the now and make them part of our story. When Moses tells the second generation of Hebrew people about to enter the promised land, “Not with our ancestors did the Lord make this covenant, but with us, who are all of us here alive today,” it is anamnesis; when Jews continue to proclaim at the Passover Seder, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and the Lord our God took us out,” it is anamnesis; and when the Christian community celebrates the Lord’s Supper “in remembrance” (and the Greek word here is anamnesis!) of Christ, it is anamnesis. “Were You There” is then an anamnetic song that is meant to bring the past events of Christ’s suffering and death into the present and transform us in its light.

Bjorlin notes the song also calls us to 're-member' the African-American slave experience out of which the song arose. It is this mindset that allows African Americans to claim Christ knew their suffering and stood in solidarity with their oppression.  As the author states, "The spiritual thus re-membered the suffering of Christ to the suffering of the African-American community, with its inherent promise of God’s presence and resurrection power."

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I find it difficult to re-member this song without also re-membering the words of Jesus in Matthew 25. In a series of parables Jesus shares the story of the sheep and goats. Towards the end of the chapter Jesus says...

 ⁴² For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, ⁴³ I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’
⁴⁴ “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
⁴⁵ “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

An internet acquaintance of mine, Jamie Arpin-Ricci made the above graphic some five years ago. It is a somewhat cynical joke this is unfortunately still so valid today.

Why is it so hard for us to sympathize, empathize, or seek to understand others? Why do we feel so threatened when oppressed people begin to stand up? How long will we turn our heads and resist the anamnetic experience of 'Were You There'? What will it take for all people - white, black, brown, red and yellow - to see Christ below the surface of our skin?

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As a white man who lives a simple life, I don't honestly know the best thing to do. Certainly I can pray, but it must go further. I guess for starters, I want to be "there"... I want to be present... as much as I can. I can be present in conversations with other people. I can be gracious with those who are confused, provide comfort to those who have been hurt and misunderstood, but also not be afraid to speak my mind with those whom I believe to be complicit and ignorant of wrong and sinful belief and action.

The easy thing would be to try to distance myself; to pretend this is 'not my fight.' But then I hear Jesus... ever so faintly... asking, "were you there"?