Knowing the Truth To Inject A New Dimension of Love
Friends Educational Fund Sunday
Indianapolis First Friends Meeting
Pastor Bob Henry
June 24, 2018
This past week was an interesting week in our country to say the least. Along with all the crazy news about children being separated from families at our borders and what we are going to do about it, two important days may have slipped by our calendars.
June 19 was Juneteenth Independence Day or Freedom Day, an American holiday that commemorates the June 19, 1865, announcement of the abolition of slavery in the U.S. state of Texas, and more generally the emancipation of enslaved African-Americans throughout the former Confederacy of the southern United States. Its name is a mix of "June" and "nineteenth", the date of its celebration. Juneteenth is recognized as a state holiday or special day of observance in forty-five states.
June 20 was World Refugee Day which was created by the United Nations General Assembly and is dedicated to raising awareness of the situation of refugees throughout the world.
I would like our “Silence and Meditation” time this morning to be just that – a time of silence to hold in the Light all those in our country and world who have, or are, still suffering from injustices, racial and cultural violence, and being treated as less than and not equals.
Hebrews 10:23-26 (NCV)
23 Let us hold firmly to the hope that we have confessed, because we can trust God to do what he promised.
24 Let us think about each other and help each other to show love and do good deeds. 25 You should not stay away from the church meetings, as some are doing, but you should meet together and encourage each other. Do this even more as you see the day coming.
26 If we decide to go on sinning after we have learned the truth, there is no longer any sacrifice for sins.
As Quakers, we rarely talk about sin. We prefer to talk of love, grace, and definitely peace and allow sin to stay and be more of a private issue. Today, I have decided to talk about sin – and this is personal as much as it is corporate or maybe even national sin. Let me give you some background.
20 years ago, the year Alex, our oldest son was born, I visited the Martin Luther King Jr. National Site and King Center in Atlanta, Georgia for the first time. I was 25 years old and rather a newbie to ministry. I had been raised in a good family, in the church, and went to good “Christian” schools. At the age of 25, I was serving as a Director of Christian Education in Elmhurst, Illinois, a near west suburb of Chicago. In Elmhurst, I served a predominately white church of about 1000 people and lead a fairly large youth ministry. That year I had been asked by my denomination to be a youth representative to our national youth gathering in Atlanta, GA. Along with about 150 representatives from across the country, I traveled to Atlanta several months prior to the event to see the sights, give input into the preferences of our youth from Illinois, and to get a physical sense of the city of Atlanta -- all before 40 thousand youth from around the country showed up for the gathering.
Looking through the options on my itinerary for my free-time on one of the days, I found I could visit President Jimmy Carter’s library, The Coca Cola Museum, or the King Center and the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site. I wasn’t too sure what the King Center or the National Historic Site was, so I read the description, thought it sounded interesting, chose it, and jumped on the bus. As I sat down, I waited for others to join me, but no one else entered the bus. I moved up closer to the bus driver and got a personal tour on my way to the Historic Site and Center.
Now, I have to be honest. At age 25, I really didn’t know much about the Civil Rights Movement. In the small Indiana town and school I was raised in I was taught about the Civil War, but I honestly do not remember being taught much about slavery or the plight of Black Africans in our country. What I was taught in grade school about the civil rights was probably about a paragraph in length in my history book. Also, I honestly didn’t know much about the legacy of Dr. King. I do remember in about 5th grade clearly seeing a bulletin board announcing the first time we would celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day at my school. Now, you must know, I attended a Lutheran School, so when I saw the picture of Dr. King, I leaned over to my friend and said, “I did not know that Martin Luther was black and why do they call him a king.” This is how ignorant I was.
So after being dropped off at the entrance of the King Center, I made my way in, grabbed a guide, and ventured into the museum. For the next couple hours, I received an education. I read about the roots of Dr. King’s lifelong fight for equality and his leadership in the American Civil Rights Movement. I read every single word on each of the plaques throughout that museum. And at the very end, before crossing the road to see his tomb, his church – Ebenezer Baptist Church, and the King Center which his wife, Coretta started, I stood with about 5 other people and listened to a live recording of Martin Luther King Jr.’s final speech, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop.”
As I listened I was realizing something in me was changing. I could not control the tears that fell from my face. In many ways, I had realized that my ignorance to King’s legacy, the plight of my African American sisters and brothers, and to the American Civil Rights movement was downright wrong. Actually, I would say it was a sin of my white ancestors who reluctantly or willingly refused to teach the rest of the American story.
Since that day, I have been dedicated to learning, educating, and working hard on not being an ignorant white man about what has gone on in our country – sadly from its inception. By no means have I arrived, got it figured out, or feel that I can relate to the plight of my African American Sisters and Brothers, if anything, I simply can say that I am more aware today.
Now, let’s go 20 years forward to just a couple of weeks ago – our family had the opportunity to visit and experience what the Washington Post claims “One of the most powerful and effective new memorials created in a generation.” Unlike, my experience in Atlanta 20 years earlier, I thought this time I was a little more prepared for what I was going to experience. But in many ways, I felt again I had been missing the rest of the story. The memorial was The National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama. As it states on the their website and in their brochures:
The National Memorial for Peace and Justice is the nation’s first comprehensive memorial dedicated to the human loss suffered during the era of racial terror lynchings, which swept across the South and beyond in the decades following the abolition of slavery…A path leads into a structure made of more than 800 steel monuments, one for each location where a racial terror lynching took place, inscribed with the name of lynching victims (by the way, we have three steel monuments for Indiana). Visitors can read the stories of black men, women, and children who were lynched, many for mere social transgressions…The National Memorial is a reckoning that acknowledges Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s powerful insight: True peace is not merely the absence of tension. It is the presence of justice.
As my family and I slowly made our way through the memorial, we found ourselves in tears, overcome by the overwhelming reality of what our white ancestors had done. Again, this was sin. At one point, we were approached by a young women who worked at the memorial. She asked if we were ok and if we had any questions. Words were hard to come by.
Before entering the monument we read of how from 1877 to 1950, millions of black Americans were targeted by racial terror lynchings – over 4, 400 were actually documented (many more went undocumented).
But it was in reading the following that I was overcome by the enormity of all of this:
Racial terror lynchings were directly tied to the history of enslavement and the re-establishment of white supremacy after the Civil War. These lynchings were distinct from hangings and mob violence committed against white people and other groups because they were intended to terrorize black Americans and enforce racial hierarchy.
Please note, we were taught that the term “racial terror lynchings” included any form of hate crime or violence to Black Africans which ended in death.
The young women who approached us at the memorial knew that we were searching for words, but also knew we wanted to do something about what we were experiencing. She said, “The best thing you can do is tell people what you have learned here. Bring people here. Use your voice to make a change and not let this continue.”
As I moved on I began wrestling with the fact that I have had people confront me politely and say, “Let’s not use words like White Supremacy or White privilege,” “Let’s talk about poverty instead of racism” or let’s not say “Black Lives Matter” no, let’s just say “All Lives Matter.” What I have learned is that when people say these things, they are often simply unaware of how they are actually reinforcing racism in our country and right here in our pews.
I had a hard time sleeping that night after attending the memorial. Actually, I wrestled most of the night with what I was supposed to do with what I had seen and learned. - me, a middle aged, overly educated, white man, that happens to be a Quaker pastor from Indiana. I woke up early that next morning, headed down to the lobby of the hotel to grab a cup of coffee and a copy of US Today. I took a couple of sips of my coffee and then read the headline on that day’s paper, “Churches struggle with how to confront racism.”
Are you kidding me… I could not believe it. But as I read the article, a quote by Chris Beard a white pastor from People’s Church just over in Cincinnati, Ohio struck me. He said,
“It’s sinful that the white American Christian Church has perpetuated a climate of white supremacy instead of repenting for the sins of the founding of America. It’s humbling and scary to face our own sin, but without truth, there is no repentance.”
Now, I know that not everyone has had the same journey I have. Some may not see ignorance or the sins of one’s ancestors something to seek forgiveness for, but I personally agree with Pastor Beard that it is time that we seek the truth.
Quaker Gary Cox in a Pendle Hill Pamplet titled, “Bearing Witness – Quaker Process and a Culture of Peace” says this about Quakers and Truth:
“As Quakers, we state that truth is something that happens, it occurs...not just a dead fact which is known. It is a living occurrence in which we participate. The guiding concern of people bearing witness to this Truth is to live rightly, in ways that are exemplary. Quakers are convinced that genuine leadings all proceed from a common ground, spring from a unity which we seek and find...”
Without Truth, there is no repentance because it springs from a unity -- a common ground. To name our sin of racism or racial hierarchy or white supremacy (or even our ignorance) begins when we live the Truth into being, when we are educated and acknowledge our histories, and work hard at coming together in unity. Yes, it means that we will have to acknowledge where we have been wrong and most certainly ask for forgiveness.
But this is only the first step – our voices need to be heard and action must be taken to tear down the bondage of racism in our country. African American football players should not have to be kneeling during our national anthem to get our attention of the racial terror that is still occurring in our country with police brutality and mass incarceration. This is not politics folks – this is sin and we need to repent.
Now, I could go on, but there is a reason we are all gathered here today. And it has to do with some people right here in Indiana who did not perpetuate the racial terror and violence our history records against Black Africans after the Civil War. Instead these people wanted to make a difference and the legacy of their difference is still being lived out today.
History notes that the Quakers were the earliest migrants to Indiana. And the Quakers specifically from Indianapolis made a rather surprising decision after the Civil War. They decided to aid dependent African American children at a time when such benevolence was generally extended only to those who were white.
Before an orphanage or what they called an asylum at that time was ever erected or thought of for white children in Indiana, The Indianapolis Quakers along with our Western Yearly Meeting opened the Indianapolis Asylum for Friendless Colored Children. This was an effort that lasted from 1870 to 1922. History books note that Quaker interest in African American children developed in a time and place in which few whites believed in equality of the races in any respects. Many Quakers in Indiana were treated badly for their beliefs, other did not participate out of fear.
Now, this is our history Friends, Indiana laws in the early nineteenth century barred African Americans from voting, testifying against whites, and serving the military. They were forbidden to marry whites, attend public schools, and access jobs. Thus, African Americans in Indiana struggled desperately to provide for their children. And much like the news still today, it is the children who would suffer the lasting effects of the racial terror and violence that the early Black Africans in Indiana would endure.
This Indiana orphanage was known by freed slaves from the south and Black entrepreneurs and was recognized for wanting to give quality care and education to the African American children whose parents could no longer provide for them. It became so well known in Quaker circles that donations started coming from all over, from other Quaker Meetings in Indiana as well as other states, then businesses, and even from the state government.
But it was a large donation by an unexpected donor that is the reason we are talking about this today. John Williams (no, not the famous composer) but the African American pioneer from North Carolina who settled in Washington County, Indiana, near a Quaker Community. Unlike most African American Hoosiers who struggled to make a living, John made a substantial living as a farmer and as a rather famous tanner (shoe maker). But sadly a successful Black Hoosier was not looked at very highly as the Civil War came to a close, and on December, 1864, John Williams became an innocent victim of racial terror and violence and was murdered on his own land at his own door right here in Indiana. Here is the actual account from Quaker Lillian Trueblood:
On the December night when the tragedy occurred, there was a light snow on the ground. The perpetrators of the deed came to the home of [John Williams who they called] Black John and aroused him from his slumbers. He ran out into the yard in his night clothes throwing his purse, which contained a small amount of money, behind the wood-box as he passed. A shot rang out and the victim fell near his own cabin door, the fatal bullet having entered his back. Since the slain man had just sold a number of hogs, a common belief, for a time at least, was that the motive for the crime was robbery. If so, there was disappointment, as Black John had left the larger part of the proceeds of the sale with William Lindley. There were those who believed robbery to be only the ostensible object of the killing, the real cause being race prejudice.
John Williams’ name should be hanging on one of the steel monuments in the National Monument in Montgomery.
Because of John Williams and his friendship with Quaker William Lindley who he made executor of his estate, there is a Friends Educational Fund for our 42 recipients today and now you know the story behind why we are here today. It has been the Indianapolis Quakers and currently First Friends who have protected this estate, grown it, and helped carry on John Williams’ legacy to make a difference in the lives of African American students wanting to pursue college and further their education.
Now, handing out money or scholarships is easy, remembering from where they came and through what pain and toil they had to be handed down is another thing. It is important to not only know our history, but to also know what side of history we are on.
I want us together, to continue the legacy of John Williams, to not forget his death, to always thank him for his sacrifice and foresight in making a difference in the lives of young black men and women. I also want us to remember the legacy of the Indianapolis Quakers, who by putting others before themselves stopped perpetuating the sins of their ancestors, and found a way to seek Truth by helping Black Africans after the Civil War in this racially divided and terror stricken country.
Our scripture this morning from Hebrews 10 read,
Let us hold firmly to the hope that we have confessed, because we can trust God to do what he promised. Let us think about each other and help each other to show love and do good deeds…but…If we decide to go on sinning after we have learned the truth, there is no longer any sacrifice for sins.
Folks, there is hope in God’s promises.
There is hope that we can be a people who continue to learn and become aware of our past.
There is hope that we can make needed changes while continuing to seek the Truth.
I believe there is hope for our future…but that hope starts with each of us.
Martin Luther King Jr. said it so well,
We have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of LOVE into the veins of our civilization.
You scholar recipients have this opportunity.
You parents and grandparents and friends have this opportunity.
And yes, we at First Friends have this opportunity.
Let us take it and make our world a better place.
And all God’s people said, Amen.
