Words & Music Carry Lament & Hope
Panelists Jessica Cavazos, Carlton Jenkins, Vanessa McDowell, and Facilitator, Marcio Sierra.
An overview of the 7th annual Kingdom Justice Summit.
By Phil Haslanger
Collaboration Project Story Team
There were searing words at the beginning, words of hope in a song, a gut-wrenching account of hopes in a hostile world, challenges to action and a closing song that reminded participants that Jesus calls all “to do great things.”
Some 400 people from 60 different congregations signed up to be part of the Kingdom Justice Summit on Feb. 27 – a day that organizer Jon Anderson described as “a space for imagination, creativity and a catalyst for change.”
Poet Matthew Charles
Poet Matthew Charles minced no words in his opening poem, “Eating Habits,” drawing stark comparisons between the assassination of Jesus and the lynchings of Black Americans. He told of the question he struggled with as a 17-year old: “How do I trust a church more interested in reinforcing white exceptionalism than following Jesus?” He said that he has been hiding his lament from the church too long. “Church, when you hear my lament,” he declared, “I am hoping you will be anything but the cause of it.”
That tension over how white Christianity has treated Black people over the centuries was one of the recurring themes of the day.
Picking up on the notion of lament, Rev. Dr. Marcus Allen, pastor of Mt. Zion Baptist Church, reminded people that “a lament is a sorrowful prayer, not a complaint.”
Marcus Allen
Allen drew on the images of Psalm 137, when the Jewish people lamented their exile to Babylon and hung their harps on trees, wondering how they could sing the Lord’s song in a strange land. That same question haunts Black Americans today.
But, said Allen, “This is a good place to sing our songs of hope because your singing brings you hope and it brings a melody to your pain. A strange place is a perfect place for a song of hope. It displays your faith and your confidence in your God.”
He talked about walking into Mt. Zion each year and observing the Martin Luther King Community Choir – a multiracial choir – singing songs of hope and unity.
Christians, he said, “are called by God to be hope dealers,” adding that the hope for the world is in the hands of the church as it faces the injustices in health care, education, housing and so many other issues.
“The church should be a choir singing words of hope to the community,” he said, concluding with his recurring theme of unity: “Unity we become a community choir of hope, the world will remain in chaos.”
Sarah Bianchi, a worship and retreat leader at Blackhawk Church, sang of her own struggles with finding hope after her son was diagnosed with a chronic illness, wondering if God was even real any more. “How long ‘til the current drags me under?” she sang. But then she found glimmers of hope as the sun begins to rise: “Something that tells me that all of this doesn’t fall on me. Something that tells me all of this doesn’t end here.”
Lilada Gee
The time of lament was hardly over, though.
Rev. Lilada Gee, artist, author, defender of Black girlhood, gripped the audience as she read “The 7 Hopes of a Black Woman.” They were not the kinds of hopes white folks normally offer. “Hope can be a painful thing,” she said.
“I hope that my son does not get shot and killed by the police,” she began. “I hope my daughter does not get shot and killed by the police…that I don’t get shot and killed by the police…that one day I can move through the city of Madison without being on full alert that I am Black woman…that I am not an angry Black woman all of my life…that I don’t lose my damn mind to Alzheimer’s.”
And finally, “I hope that I can hope like everybody else someday.”
She elaborated on each hope, then concluded, “Every hope was that something bad wouldn’t happen to me or those I love.”
Alex Gee
Her brother, Rev. Dr. Alex Gee, pastor at Fountain of Life Covenant Church and president of the Nehemiah Center for Urban Development, moved the quest for hope toward the quest for justice. He talked about the hope often used in church – eschatological hope, the hope for life with God in the hereafter – and contrasted it with ecclesiastical hope – the church bringing hope on earth to those seeking justice.
He drew on history and scripture and then put the spotlight on justice with images like this: “We’re not called just to make sandwiches. We’re called to fix the scales the measure the meat.”
He reminded people that “those who profit from injustice have forgotten about God’s grace for them.”
So there was lament. There was hope in many forms. There was the call to justice. And then there were three leaders in Madison talking about how they try to bring in concrete ways to bring hope and justice to their arenas.
“Justice and hope are like dance partners,” said Carlton D. Jenkins, superintendent of the Madison Metropolitan School District. “When given a chance to flourish, our hearts can be uplifted…How can you bring hope out of the injustices we have seen?”
Jessie Cavazos, president and CEO of the Latino Chamber of Commerce, highlighted seeking ways to mobilize the economy through a diverse population. “I would have to ask everyone here, get to know your neighbor.”
And Vanessa McDowell, CEO of the YWCA Madison, challenged the audience, now that the murder of George Floyd has woken up a lot of white folks, “what action steps are you taking to interrupt racist rhetoric, to educate people about history and to impact this community in a different way?”
That left it to Alexandrea Cordell to close things out with an original song – “Every Piece.” She reflects on Jesus’ call in her life:
I see the reflection of your love in my heart.
You called me to do great things
That’s how I know every little piece of me comes from you
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