First Parish Bedford UU

When the Wind Lifts Your House

A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane D. Teichert

First Parish in Bedford, Massachusetts

January 18, 2009

Opening Words

With the choir's first anthem, we begin our celebration of the birthday of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and of the inauguration, this Tuesday, of the first African American president of the United States. YES! (cheers!)

Today we rejoice. Today we recall the stories that brought us to this joyous day.

We will recall the awful hardships, and legacies, of slavery, in poetry.

We will recall the stories of slaves escaping to freedom with songs to guide them along their way. "Rise up and follow." "Follow the drinking gourd." "I'm on my way to the freedom land."

We will recall the stories of Dr. King and others, some known to us, but many unknown, nameless "foot soldiers for freedom" as Dr. King called them, among them, some of us.

Today, we will rejoice and recall, re-inspire ourselves to join in on, or even lead, the struggles for freedom and justice that will become the stories told in the years still to come, and yes, we will rejoice, because the nation today is alive with hope!

(transition)

Long ago, before the Civil War, there was an old sailor, a white man they called Peg Leg Joe, who did what he could to help free American slaves.

They called him Peg Leg Joe because one of his legs had been injured and was amputated below the knee, where a wooden peg was attached so he could walk. He wore a shoe on his Left foot and for the Right, he had his peg foot; left foot, peg foot…that’s how he walked.

The story goes that Peg Leg Joe hired himself out as a carpenter on slave plantations in the American south. By day, he’d do his work and by night he’d teach the slaves a song that secretly told the way to freedom.

The song said “to follow the drinking gourd.” You’ve seen gourds, right? Just imagine…if you cut off the top part of it, you could use it to dip water out of a bucket and take a sip. Like a ladle.

Now, isn’t that strange? If you were a slave, how could you follow a ladle to freedom?

But, have you ever looked up in the night sky to see the stars? Have you ever seen the constellation called the Big Dipper? Doesn’t it look like a ladle? You could follow the Big Dipper, that drinking gourd in the sky, traveling at night so you wouldn’t be seen!

The songs says to follow the drinking gourd, and a riverbank, go between two hills to another river and then a great big river where an old man would be waiting in a boat to row you across. It would be Peg Leg Joe!

On the other side, a man would appear in the dark, you’d hide in his hay wagon, and he’d take you to what would be the first of many houses in which you would hide on your way north to safety and to freedom in Canada.

Follow the drinking gourd!

Anthem: “Follow the Drinking Gourd” arranged by John Horman, to be reprised during the sermon.

Sermon

The sermon must begin now, but already this morning so many images are in our minds and so many feelings in our hearts-- from the music, from the stories, and from joyous anticipation of the historic occasion we will witness in just two days!!

Images of slave folks courageously escaping to freedom, free folks black and white braving risks to help them get there…

Images of small children in a fierce storm boldly holding the house down as the wind threatens to lift it up…

And images from the past year, of people coming together—young and old, black and white, Latino, Asian— in a campaign that succeeded in electing Barack Hussein Obama, in some measure because it did bring people together, in one-on-one conversations, to share personal stories and hopes for change, through organized door-to-door canvassing and informally at the water cooler or coffee machine at work, on long distance phone calls with family or friends, sharing You Tube musical creations, and in email exchanges …

so many images and feelings already this morning… perhaps it would be best if I just stood here quietly for a while and said nothing, absolutely nothing.

In the silence we might gather the images and feelings together, to be reminded of them like a slide show in our heart's eye, images and feelings appearing and disappearing, reappearing, leading us each into our own reflections…

So let us allow a reprise of the choir’s anthem [“Follow the Drinking Gourd” arranged by John Horman] to give us the space for reflecting. The anthem will be sung in sections, interspersed through the sermon. Thank you so much to the choir and Music Director Brad Conner for indulging me in this way this morning.

As the music begins, let us reflect … first on the troubles we’ve seen, as a nation and in our own lives.

For the troubles we've seen as a nation, let us recall our country's original sin of slavery in these words by the poet Elizabeth Alexander, who will deliver her original, official Inaugural Poem on Tuesday. First, her "Little Slave Narrative #1: Master"

He would order the women to pull up their clothes

"in Alabama style," as he called it. He would whip them

for not complying. He taught bloodhounds

to chase down negro boys, hence the expression

"hell-hounds on my trail. He was fond of peach brand,

Put ads in the paper: Search high, search low

for my runaway Isaac, my runaway Joe,

his right cheek scarred, occasioned by buckshot,

runaway Ben Fox, very black, chunky made,

two hundred dollars live, and if dead,

bring his dead body, so I may look at it.

Those were terrible times, times that stained our nation and left a legacy of prejudice, guilt, hatred, racism, internalized racism, violence, addictions, obvious racial bias in prison sentences and in many public and private institutions—it’s a legacy that is real, still, even today, of course.

And, too, let us note our own individual troubles, not slavery surely, but troubles—the hardships we’ve suffered or are now suffering, the challenges, the obstacles, the depths to which we’ve sunk, our regrets--especially our regrets, the outrages we’ve seen in ours and other’s lives and in the world around us, the fears we’ve felt for ourselves, our loved ones, our nation, the world…. Let us ponder on the troubles we’ve seen, as a nation, and as individual people.

First part of anthem

Let us reflect next on our journeys out of these troubles… what have been our personal drinking gourds?— who or what we have we (or do we) follow in making it to safety— a twelve-step program, a best friend; a daily jog or sitting meditation; the glorious sunrise, a beloved pet; our goals and intentions, a peace-giving prayer, our god if by some name we worship; the children, the needy, the justice movement we give our best selves to… maybe this sanctuary of memory and hope has been for you at times like a drinking gourd leading you to a safer home… Let us give thanks now for the drinking gourds that have shown us on our journey’s way…

Second part of anthem

And what of our nation? How did it make its way to safety?

The story of the Underground Railroad of the drinking gourd song speaks powerfully to Americans, of whatever race or ethnicity. I believe all American children need to know that story. But, it's even become somewhat of a fanciful thing among some white folks (like me) to imagine that every old house in town was a stop on the freedom train, and that architectural features that make no sense to us today, like a ladder affixed to the side of a chimney running from basement to attic, are proof that runaway slaves were harbored there. To my disappointment, Bedford's official historians say there is no supporting evidence in town records or private letters to support the stories that the Fitch Tavern or any other house in Bedford was really a stop on that freedom train.

Still, from the documented history of the Underground Railroad, we know that un-told numbers of slaves freed themselves from bondage, by their own courage and intelligence--they weren’t all too afraid. Most of the conductors were probably black people, but we know that some white folks got involved; they weren’t all bigots and slaveholders. And we know that the Abolition movement, which included many Unitarian and Universalist ministers and lay people, played a role too.

But, sadly, non-violent resistance and organizing alone did not bring about an end to the slave system. The Civil War was nearly over when President Abraham Lincoln gave his second Inaugural Address. Six hundred thousand or more people had already been killed or died from injuries. Let me quote a few passages.

"Both [sides of the conflict] read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other…The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh."

… we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came…"

I want to return to the Biblical imagery in Lincoln's address, but first, if we're tracing how our nation made its way from slavery to the election and inauguration of its first African American president, we have to laud the civil rights movement of the 1950's and 60's.

We can't very well tell its whole story this morning! One story will suffice, that of John Lewis, whose childhood memory I re-enacted with the children this morning. The story is in the Prologue to his compelling autobiography, Walking With the Wind: A Memoir of the Movement.

Born in 1940, Lewis grew up in rural Alabama, where that memory was made and where much of his family still lives. They were a poor but close family, not very worldly-wise. He tells about hearing the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr on the family radio when he was in high school. It excited and moved him like nothing else. He was inspired and wanted to be like King.

He went to a free seminary in Nashville, and at only eighteen years of age, Lewis got involved in leading the first sit-ins, first in Nashville, and then elsewhere—amazing stories of faith, organization, and sheer bravery. He played important roles in many of the movement's key events. At age 23, he shared the podium with King at the 1963 March on Washington.

In 1964, he led the first March to Montgomery, which was planned to protest the shooting by police and death of a young black man, Jimmie Lee Jackson. The march was brutally attacked by police after only six blocks, which led King to call for white clergy support from around the country for a second march from Selma to Montgomery in March 1965. Among those who heeded his call were many Unitarian Universalist ministers (including our own Minister Emeritus Jack Mendelsohn). Like the first march, the second one turned around. Later that evening UU minister James Reeb was killed by white citizens, causing a national outcry which brought 6000 people to Alabama for a third and ultimately successful march to Montgomery, making it possible for President Lyndon Johnson to move the Voting Rights Act through Congress later that year.

But I digressed, to tell about UU involvement in that story…

Back to John Lewis' story, in 1981 he was elected to Atlanta City Council and then in 1986 to Congress, where he has served ever since. His colleagues there refer to him as "the Conscience of Congress."

Congressman John Lewis was one of the first black leaders to break with the pack supporting Senator Hillary Clinton, whom he describes as a friend. His change of heart came because of overwhelming support for Obama in his district. "Something's happening in America, something some of us did not see coming," Lewis said. "Barack Obama has tapped into something that is extraordinary. It's a movement. It's a spiritual event. It's amazing what's happening." (The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, 02/27/08)

Third part of anthem

In his second Inaugural Address, President Lincoln referred to American slavery as "an offense." In the Biblical view, "offenses need come" or in other words they are to be expected (it's the human condition to be imperfect) but "woe to the one who causes the offense." The horror of the Civil War was the "woe" to the offending nation for the evil of slavery.

In the last eight years, count the offenses:

Our fears after the September 11, 2001 attacks were perversely manipulated in the declaration of a so-called “war on terror.”

Lies paved the way to the invasion of Iraq.

That war brought Al Qaeda to Iraq where it hadn’t been before, united Muslim countries in opposition to the United States who were not aligned with each other before, showcased extremist Muslims at the expense of moderates, and diverted military resources away from Afghanistan and its border with Pakistan.

Fear of terrorism became both a tool of and an argument for alarmingly repressive actions by our own government--think Guantanamo, immigration raids, and politicization of the Justice Department.

Federal government's agencies were dismantled, made all too evident in its horrifically inadequate, racially charged, and famously "Good job, Brownie" response to Hurricane Katrina.

And, for more than eight years, federal regulatory powers were diminished, bringing about the collapse of the American, and then global, financial system, due also to greed, dishonesty and endemic American consumption.

To strike a Biblical note like Lincoln, "woe" has befallen us for these offenses! Our economy is in the tank, people are losing homes, jobs, and investments. Global warming looms.

These are major storms, with fierce howling winds, and we can hardly believe it!

In fact, when Georgia Congressman John Lewis tells his childhood story about surviving a storm, he says at first they could hardly believe it.

Lewis remembers being a small child of four on a day that turned stormy. He and his many cousins had been playing outside when the wind came up. His aunt called them all inside, into her small one-room wooden house. The storm was whipping around, the trees swaying, sheets of rain beating on the tin roof, and everyone was scared. Suddenly the wind was so fierce the house began to sway, the floor boards began to bend, and the corner of the room started lifting up!

“I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” he writes. “None of us could. This storm was actually pulling the house toward the sky. With us inside it.”

His aunt told the fearful children to clasp hands and line up. They did, and then she led them, holding hands, toward the corner of the room that was rising. And from there they walked, all together, to the next corner the wind was lifting, and from there to wherever the wind went next. Until the storm abated.

“Fifteen children walking with the wind,” he says, “holding that trembling house down with the weight of our small bodies.” (p. 12).

“More than a half a century has passed since that day,” Lewis reflects in his 1998 autobiography, “and it has struck me more than once over those many years that our society is not unlike the children in that house, rocked again and again by the winds of one storm or another, the walls around us seeming at times as if they might fly apart.

“It seemed that way in the 1960s,” he continues, “at the height of the civil rights movement, when America itself felt as if it might burst at the seams—so much tension, so many storms. But the people of conscience never left the house. They never ran away. They stayed, they came together and they did the best they could, clasping hands and moving toward the corner of the house that was the weakest…”

“Children holding hands, walking with the wind. That is America to me—not just the movement for civil rights but the endless struggle to respond with decency, dignity and a sense of brotherhood to all the challenges that face us as a nation, as a whole.” (p. 13)

The nation that our new president will swear to lead on Tuesday faces great challenges. The global economy and the global environment are in trouble. Do we respond with fear, by hunkering down, each with our own kind? Or do we respond with decency, dignity and care for our sisters and brothers worldwide?

Let us be people of conscience who never leave the house though the winds howl! Soon we will have a president who wants to lead through the storm.

He is asking us to keep up the organizing that got him elected.

He is asking us to hold hands with him and each other so that we can walk together to where the weight of our bodies, our principles, our compassion, our anger, our wisdom and—especially—our hope can hold the place down, keep the chaos at bay, and send the howling wind far, far away… securing a future for the children of the world.

Let us follow the drinking gourd.

Last part of anthem.