A Meditation.
Scripture: Psalm 85 and Isaiah 61:1-16.
The sermon this morning will be short, informal, and interactive. I am going to say a few words to describe some concerns that I want to bring to you—and to God—this morning. Then there will be a brief time of silent reflection, for you to gather your thoughts, and finally there will be a time for you to share any thoughts that you may care to share with one another.
Redeeming the past. I need to tell you what that means to me, and how I arrived at this topic for the morning.
Once upon a time we were going to have some photos available this morning from something called the Holsinger Collection, an array of photographic portraits of people from Charlottesville’s history, in this case African Americans.
What this meant to me was that we would be giving visibility to people who, both then and now, our society too often makes invisible. What I had in mind is that these pictures would be placed around the edge of the circle and these “spirits” would become a kind of audience for our worship. We would not know their names or very much about them, but their presence visually in worship would both bring those people into our minds and symbolize our intention not to render people invisible any longer, neither people from the past, nor people in the here and now.
In a sense I imagined those people also confronting me with the question: what is our responsibility today to those people, who are our national ancestors quite as much as anyone famous. Thomas Jefferson is considered an ancestor to all Americans and especially to people in Charlottesville. The people who are part of that collection are equally as much our American and Charlottesville ancestors.
In Charlottesville we cannot ask the question of what our debt to the past is without dealing with Vinegar Hill. (comments on Vinegar Hill).
So now the question is: in light of the history that we did not make happen but which we cannot undo, how do we now relate to that past?
In this regard also can’t help but bring up an article in the Daily Progress last week that reported a service acknowledging lynching as part of our past. Those who did this service, obviously felt that was one way to begin to redeem a past that is so horrible we can hardly think about it—and that’s part of the problem.
Another line of thought that contributed to where I am in spirit this morning is our thinking and planning for Maundy Thursday and the concerns that have led to that
Again the question is: in light of this history, which is really worse than any of the words we usually use can describe, which we did not “do” but which is still part of “our” history, what is our responsibility? What can we do to even make a tiny beginning in redeeming the past?
The answer that is often given is essentially “nothing”. There is nothing we can do or ought to do. I wasn’t around when those Holsinger photos were taken. If you’re talking about people being invisible, it wasn’t me who turned away. And I didn’t displace anyone from Vinegar Hill. I didn’t build the Omni Hotel. I certainly didn’t lynch anyone. I didn’t own slaves. Never kept anyone from voting. I take no responsibility for the past. The past is the past. This is the answer of the practical American spirit that says “put the past behind and deal with today”. It is also the response of those who deny the realities of both past and present. And for me that attitude leaves a heavy burden in the spirit. It makes an unacknowledged and unredeemed reality a permanent part of our lives, of my life. To me the path of denial leaves us carrying a heavy burden, and is a literally “depressing” approach. We sometimes think such topics are depressing and thus we want to avoid them, but perhaps the most depressing thing is precisely when we do avoid them.
So what other options are open?
Two things occur to me just for purposes of offering a few quick things to think about and talk about…
In a variety of contexts where there is some kind of wound that needs healing or some kind of situation that needs reconciliation or forgiveness, it has been widely affirmed that telling the truth is often the first step. In recovery, for instance, or in something like the truth and reconciliation process in South Africa, the first step is telling the truth—first of all to oneself and then to say out loud or in some public way what has been without putting a spin on it, making excuses or qualifications. No more secrets. My name is Jim Bundy, and I am an alcoholic—or whatever. Here is what has happened in my life, or in this city of Charlottesville, or among my ancestors in this country, or among my Christian ancestors.
Then of course there is giving some evidence that we have learned from the past, and that we are willing to make changes—restitution, perhaps, or actions that will be evidence that the future will be different.
But I also leave the question with you: How do we deal in some constructive way with parts of the past that we may not have been responsible for but that have caused pain and continue to cause pain?
Thinking of our Christian heritage, what parts of it cause me the most pain? Are there parts of our Christian heritage that we would disavow, if we could? Do you have any thoughts on how we can begin to redeem the parts of our past that are difficult even to admit?
Thinking of that same heritage, what parts bring you the most joy? What parts do you most fully embrace?
(If you do not fully identify yourself as Christian, please feel free to participate and answer the questions in whatever way makes sense from your perspective.)
Other thoughts are also appropriate, whether or not they seem to answer the above questions.
A time of silence follows, and then a time of small group sharing…
Jim Bundy
April 1, 2001