The Justice Journey Pilgrimage

 Day Three

"I Like Your Shirts"

Get in Good Trouble

Necessary Trouble

That's the quote on our group t-shirt.  It's from the late Rep. John Lewis, one of the original 13 Freedom Riders, as well as being a leader in the March, 1965 marches from Selma to Montgomery.  Perhaps the best known of the three was the first, now referred to as Bloody Sunday, when the marchers were met on the apex of the Edmund Pettus bridge by what Lewis described as a "sea of blue"--Alabama state troopers blocking the path of 600 marchers.  They were forced back with violence.  For more information, see Selma to Montgomery marches or watch the excellent movie Selma (you can see a trailer on that link).

Not John Lewis

In Selma, we again experienced the amazingness of living history.  Our group talked with this gentleman, who had been part of the march (not sure which one of the 3, perhaps all 3 for all I know).

We were also stopped by another gentleman whose relatives had taken in part in the march.  He was one of a half dozen people (yes, I counted) who commented favorably on our shirts.  As we walked across the bridge, a number of people honked their horns and waved.  One person blew an air horn and nearly scared me off the sidewalk, but only one.  

Again, today, I was struck by how many random people thanked us--thanked us--for being there!  For paying homage, standing witness, respecting what occurred during the civil rights movement.  Hearing the stories--oh, so many stories that continue to move me and my fellow pilgrims and shepherds.  They are hard to hear because nothing in these conversations, museums, monuments is sugar coated in an attempt to mollify white people.  This is what happened, these people and places tell us.  Did you pay attention then (old people Jeanie and Mary)?  Are you paying attention now?

This afternoon we visited the Legacy Museum, which was a powerful experience, wall after wall, exhibit upon exhibit documenting a comprehensive history of the United States with a focus on the legacy of slavery.  The museum is built on a site where slaves labored in bondage, only blocks away from one of the most prominent slave auction sites in the United States.  Each of the exhibits was forceful and harrowing.  In the transatlantic slave wing, I learned that 12 million Africans were forcefully taken from the countries and brought to the United States to provide slave labor.  (This after Native Americans died from disease and genocide, leaving the Europeans settling the nation to look for help elsewhere.)  2 million died on the voyage across the Atlantic.  The numbers are staggering.  Please take a moment to read about this truly remarkable institution.

Finally we walked over to the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. There I felt as if the designers of this monument had conducted their work with great passion and compassion.  It memorializes over 4000 Blacks who were lynched beginning in the 1800s and ending in 1981.  (In the Legacy Museum, there are 800 jars filled with dirt from where recorded lynchings took place.)

 

Lest we forget, the United States like so many other countries was built on the backs of others.  This is a takeaway message that sits like a lead anvil in the pit of my stomach, only growing heavier with each museum or monument describing man's inhumanity to man.  Sometimes I think I can't do it anymore but then I remind myself I am called to do so, to attest to what happened as I fulfill the call to be a child of God, the hands and feet and voice of Christ in the world, to be brave enough to be the person God wants me to be.  Sometimes that's the prayer I take with me as I wander the halls or grounds chronicling how bad the situation was and, oh, so sadly, how in too many respects, circumstances may have altered but not changed.

In a gift shop today, I saw a plaque with this quote from Dr. Martin Luther King:

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.

I'm hanging on to that as I go to sleep tonight.

More tomorrow.