“Perhaps love is like the ocean full of conflict, full of pain**.”
It is, isn’t it? We like to think, oh, no! That is not love. Love is happily ever after. Love is all roses and sunshine. Love is all that and a bag of chips.
We need to face the reality … love contains conflict. Love contains pain.
Now before I go too much further with this line of thought, let me clarify what I am talking about when I mention conflict and pain as being within love.
Let me separate out the pain and conflict experienced as the result of emotional/mental/physical abuse. The sort of conflict and pain that arises from abuse is not about love, that is about power—control over another human being. Love is not about power over another person. So when I state love contains conflict, love contains pain; I am not referring to abusive relationships.
I am referring to the pain that arises when someone is hurting, physically/emotionally/mentally. I am referring to when a loved one is sick. I am referring to when a loved one is being harassed. I am referring to when a loved one dies—regardless of circumstances.
On a larger scale—I am referring to when there is injustice against people. People who seek to love one another face conflict and pain when there is injustice. I am referring to when pain and conflict arise because of a systemic condition of the hardening heart in the collective hive.
This has been a tough summer for those who believe that Love wins. I know for me it has made me seriously reconsider my calling as a minister who longs for the day when justice runs down like a mighty stream. What am I doing here in Alabama? What am I doing here in the United States? If I, as a minister, am not on the forefront of justice standing on the side of love with the people who are in pain, what am I doing? I cry for justice to reign in this land.
Michael Brown’s death in Ferguson was only the tip for me. I listened to my relatives defend his being shot and became nauseated. His senseless death is an abomination to all of America’s ideals and principles. But his death is not the only one, and we don’t really know how many others because our police and government do not track violent encounters[i] between police and civilians. A law was passed by Congress in 1994 requiring the Attorney General to collect and track such events and give an annual report[ii]. No such report has ever been submitted in 20 years.
There were at least 4 other deaths of unarmed black men in the month of August—their names must not be forgotten: Eric Garner—Staten Island, NY; John Crawford—Beaver Creek, OH; Ezell Ford—Los Angeles, CA; Dante Parker—Victorville, CA. How many more deaths are needed before America wakes up to the evil it is perpetuating?
This is the pain that love contains. The pain is greatest at the epicenter, with their loved ones who grieve senseless deaths at the hands of a corrupt system militarized by fear and racism. But it is a pain that radiates out like an earthquake and is felt far away by those who are sensitive to it.
How does a family live with such pain? Where is their comfort to be found? How do we respond to such an earthquake of pain?
There are other pains that love contains. This past week Save OurSelves hosted a daily Jericho March around the capitol regarding the pains that our current state administration is enforcing on the people of Alabama—in total disregard of the pain and grief it causes their citizens.
These daily marches focused on Immigration Rights, Education & Youth, Women’s Rights/ Equal Justice, Worker’s Rights/Living Wage, Criminal Justice/Due Process, Medicaid Expansion and Health, and Voting Rights.
These issues all intersect with one another. There is a coordinated effort in our state to hold people down from their great potential by denying the ability to organize in the workplace, by removing funding from our educational budget, by taking away a women’s right of agency to address her own needs, by creating laws that unjustly increase incarceration and slavery in our prisons, and the grief experienced by loved ones who died because of no healthcare—when healthcare could be afforded to them with Medicaid Expansion.
Love is like an ocean, full of conflict, full of pain. What does one do with the ocean so that Love wins?
We expand the ocean. We support one another when pain occurs. We cry out together. We let our wails be heard like the mothers in Ramah. We place our lives on the line when others are threatened.
Many of you know that I was arrested within the capitol building on Thursday for attempting to participate in a 24 hour prayer vigil for the expansion of Medicaid. I spoke with our board president before I made my decision to do this but it was obvious that this was where my heart was leaning. Too many deaths have occurred that could have been avoided if our governor, a doctor by profession, had agreed to expand Medicaid. I could no longer be silent on this sanctioned death by denial of healthcare any longer.
The pain and grief he has caused 700 families this past year alone is unconscionable, not to mention the 300,000 people who are struggling and praying that they will not need medical intervention to save their lives. My heart this summer has broken open and I am compelled to speak out in a way I have not before.
I see his refusal to expand Medicaid to be an evil act against the people of this state, people he was elected to serve. Many of whom he defined as his brothers and sisters in Christ, since he has made it clear he does see non-Christians as his brothers and sisters in humanity[iii]. With brothers like that, who needs enemies?
Our Governor is a victim of his own lies and deceptions. And like Governor Wallace before him, he must be convinced of his betrayal against the people he was elected to serve. The only way I know how to reach him and save him from his own deception is to rip the veil off on white privilege and supremacy which this administration has fought to preserve and strengthen and to fill the capitol with hundreds, even thousands of people demanding to see Medicaid expansion now. And to insist laws put into place that expand rather than contract a person’s ability to reach their full potential.
This must be a concerted effort and a coalition of people broad and deep. It means we must be motivated more by love than by fear of the stigma of being arrested. As the Rev. Kenneth Sharpton-Glascow said to me in the Montgomery County Jail, Jesus was arrested for his civil disobedience. So was Gandhi, so was Martin Luther King, Jr. so was Annie Pearl Avery, who is one of the original SNICK participants in the 1960s and who joined me in being arrested on Thursday.
Ms. Avery is now 79 years old and told the police at the Montgomery jail that it was partly her actions in the 1960s that enabled them to have the jobs they have today. She enjoined them to recognize that we are fighting again for rights that are being denied Alabamans and join us in our struggle—not fight us by locking us up.
But these people I mentioned by name are all people of color. We live in a nation where people of color are disproportionately arrested even though all people share equally in the crimes committed. I realize that as a white person, I have been conditioned to believe that only bad people are arrested. And in this country, bad people are conflated with being people of color because that is what White America is taught to believe. There should be no shame in being arrested for justice.
I am also aware that in our Unitarian Universalist movement, the temptation is to make an arrest for a just cause to be some sort of an elite status symbol. Across our denomination clergy arrests thus far have resulted in no time served, a small fine, and some court costs. In Washington, DC, the arrests of 112 clergy and faith leaders were an orchestrated show against deportation of immigrants. We knew in advance that we would be released with no further court cases, no threat of prison time. The risk was minimal. It gave us media publicity. If we are serious in our quest for justice, we need to take larger risks that place our lives on the line, a few hours being arrested is not a personal risk.
While there was some media present at the rally on Thursday, the arrests that happened were no media stunt. The Governor’s office did not want to arrest us and pleaded with us to leave. We stated we needed to pray for the governor to expand Medicaid and therefore would not leave. We were charged with trespassing in the second degree which carries a $ 500 fine and /or up to 90 days in prison. We could have been charged with trespassing in the third degree which carries a small fine.(In delivering this sermon, I misstated the penalties based on a website I found regarding these terms. It is corrected here to Alabama criminal codes.) My court date is Sept 15. I cannot predict the outcome. Our governor does not want to become the next North Carolina with thousands swarming the capitol and over 900 arrests. He is hoping this will deter others to follow.
We must not be deterred. Love does not stand back in the face of evil actions. It stands firm. It holds the pain felt and assimilates it into more love.
I am committed to justice for the people of this state and therefore I must be willing to sacrifice the white privilege I am afforded. If need be, to be arrested and bear the consequences. The consequences I face do not even compare to the lives painfully lost because of denial of healthcare.
The evil that we face today is the same evil that Martin Luther King faced in the 1950s and 60s. My actions are not the seeking of a status symbol, they are a call to action, to be willing to put our heart and soul into the belief that people need to be free to reach their full potential.
I realize some of you may not agree with the actions I have taken. I understand. I have said this before and it bears repeating, I do not desire a congregation that follows their minister blindly. I do desire that this congregation will be informed of the issues. Study them. Read up on them. Consider these issues a matter of faith development importance because they are indeed a serious matter of faith development. The future of our faith is dependent on how these issues play out. There are forces that seek to take away our freedom to practice our free and liberal faith.
I don’t know how many of you have seen the billboard out on University Blvd entering Cottondale. It is a huge sign displaying the #Secede. This group wants to recreate the confederacy in the form of a White Supremacist Christian Theocracy. I have talked with some people who have experienced this group firsthand and they are a vicious and hateful bunch. They are feeding off this country’s and state’s current hatred for our President. Be forewarned, there is very little difference between this group and the white elected officials in Montgomery with their declarations of a specific Christian theology that places women back into the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant and laws that place black and brown men into slavery through incarceration.
Perhaps love. Perhaps love is like the ocean full of conflict, full of pain. The ocean is wide and deep. There are many ways to hold that conflict and pain. Some will grieve and wail uncontrollably. And that witness of love is essential. Some will share their stories of injustice committed against them. And that witness of love is essential. Some may do so by supporting those who stand on the vanguard. And that witness of love is essential. Others may march, wave banners, and shout slogans. And that witness of love is essential. Others may stand with hands raised in silent protest in front of the guns and tanks pointed at them. And that witness of love is essential. And others may choose to engage the pain with civil disobedience, risking their livelihoods, their freedom to enable others to be free. And that witness of love is essential.
Peace is not the absence of violence. Peace is the ability to remain centered and grounded while the world is raging threatening storms. It is the ability to move forward in love because of the inner conviction that justice is the victor already. Love ultimately wins.
Love is large enough to contain the conflict and the pain on the journey towards justice.
This sermon was delivered to the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Tuscaloosa on August 31, 2014 (c) by Rev. Fred L Hammond.
** This quote is from John Denver’s song “Perhaps Love.”