No Easy Road to Freedom

THE KILLING OF 18-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, Mo., last year and the events that followed sparked protests by the community in the St. Louis area asserting that black lives matter and ignited a discussion on race relations in the United States.

On the heels of non-indictments in the slaying of Brown and other black men, our nation focused its attention on the drastic inconsistencies inherent in our judicial system. To many observers, black lives had less standing in our nation than white lives.

Rodney King, Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, and the churchgoers in Charleston, S.C., are part of a long list of black victims of violence. They are victims of an American narrative that devalues black souls, black lives, black bodies, and black minds. In response to these tragic events, particularly since the non-indictment of the police officers who killed Brown and Garner, many evangelicals have been calling for a biblical practice that is often absent in American Christianity—the call to lament.

On one level I am thrilled that evangelicals are discovering the importance of lament in dealing with racial injustice. However, I am concerned that the way lament is being used by some white evangelicals is a watered-down, weak lament that is no lament at all.

Lament is not simply feeling bad that Brown won’t be able to go to college. Lament is not simply feeling sad that Garner’s kids no longer have a father. Lament is not asserting your right to confront the police because, as a white person, you won’t be treated in the same way that a black protester may be treated. Lament is not the passive acceptance of tragedy. Lament is not weakly assenting to the status quo. Lament is not simply the expression of sorrow in order to assuage feelings of guilt and the burden of responsibility.

The book of Lamentations responds to a very real tragedy in the history of Israel. What does Lamentations teach us about the lost practice of lament and how does it apply to the racialized events surrounding Ferguson and the ensuing conflict?

A deep and painful history

Lamentations 1 depicts the reality of death and suffering that leads to the appropriate response of lament. The city of Jerusalem has died, and Lamentations 1 initiates a funeral dirge in response. On both the individual level and on the corporate level, Lamentations 1 challenges us with the necessity of a funeral dirge in the narrative of Ferguson.

The body of Michael Brown was not accorded proper respect. The dead body lying on the streets of a quiet apartment complex in a Midwestern suburban town demanded a proper funeral dirge in the community. The absence of a funeral dirge creates an emotional and spiritual vacuum. Not only is proper mourning required for the loss of one made in the image of God, but there is the ensuing shame that a human life was handled without dignity.

The use of the funeral dirge genre in Lamentations reminds us that historical reality cannot be ignored. Funeral dirges are required when we do not deal with the dead bodies of history. Ferguson is a suburb of St. Louis, Mo., a state that entered the Union as a compromise to ensure the continuation of slavery in the United States. St. Louis was also the site of a significant decision that declared that black lives do not matter. The Dred Scott decision handed down from the federal courthouse in St. Louis denied U.S. citizenship and effectively denied human identity for African Americans. These historical realities find expression in the complicated narrative of injustice endemic to the Ferguson shooting. The lack of concern for black lives was revealed to be a systemic problem in Ferguson. An investigation of the Ferguson Police Department by the Department of Justice revealed that there was a pattern of unconstitutional policing shaped by a focus on revenue rather than on public safety. Ferguson police operated with clear racial disparities that adversely impacted African Americans and showed discriminatory intent. The use of African Americans as a source of revenue reflects a longer history of using black bodies for economic gain.

The declaration that “black lives matter” found expression in an area of our country that had declared that black lives do not matter. We cannot “solve” the problem of race in America while ignoring our deep and painful history. Our tendency to ignore our tainted history may arise from a warped self-perception, the mistaken concept that we do not need to deal with our tainted past because we have risen above that problematic history and moved to a post-racial, color-blind America. An assumed exceptionalism belies the belief that we do not have to deal with our history because through our exceptional status we have overcome the past. The destruction of black bodies and black minds can be justified because their sacrifice helped to build our exceptional nation. Privilege and exceptionalism exempt us from engaging in the necessary work of dealing with our lamentable history.

The voice of the suffering

As Lamentations moves forward, we encounter a myriad of voices, but the voice of the suffering is often presented as a feminine voice: Jerusalem personified as a woman; the shame of an abused woman; the anguished cry of widows; the suffering endured by mothers. As privileged celebrants, we often have the luxury of ignoring the suffering other, but Lamentations expressed as a feminine voice reminds us to hear the voices of those in our society who often bear the greatest burden of suffering.

As is often the case in the tragic killing of a young black male, the mothers of the slain are often ignored while the voice of the victimizer emerges front and center. The names of Michael Brown’s mother and grandmother have faded from memory, but the argument of Darren Wilson’s innocence continues. In December 2014, when I visited Ferguson with a group of Christian leaders from all over the country, I was struck by the depth of pain expressed by the older African-American women who were present. They voiced a lament that only comes from identifying with others who have had to bury their children.

An important theme that emerged from the frustration over the non-indictments was the call by many to hear the stories of African-American brothers and sisters. Instead of being quick to judge, many Christians felt the need to listen. I would strongly affirm that call as an important aspect of lament. We did not need to hear from the ministry experts who pontificated from the comfort of upper-middle-class, white, suburban churches. Instead, the voices of black women who lost their children and the victims of police brutality needed to be the central voices we heard as an important aspect of the practice of lament. Listening to the suffering community does not imply that one party is completely innocent while the other party is completely guilty. Instead, it acknowledges that the dead body in the street is once again the body of a black male. We make special effort, therefore, to listen to the voices of those who have been damaged (and often times re-traumatized) by these tragic events.

Lament, however, does not mean silence. In Lamentations 3, we encounter an intensified acrostic that attempts to cover the full expression of human suffering from A to Z. Our lament, therefore, should hear from the full range of voices. At the same time, Lamentations 3 evokes the voice of the narrator (Jeremiah) to speak on behalf of the people. Listening to the previously silenced voices is an essential first step in the practice of lament.

But a passive lament that fails to confront injustice also fails to consider the power of prophetic advocacy in lament. Many white evangelicals feel helpless when the issue of race comes up. I often hear the refrain from white evangelicals in the midst of a situation such as Ferguson, “I don’t know what to do!” Many have taken the important first step of being attentive to the long-hidden history of oppression and the personal lament of individuals who have experienced racial injustice. However, Lamentations shifts from a personal lament to a corporate lament with Jeremiah, as the prophet-narrator, speaking in solidarity with the suffering.

In pursuit of racial justice

In Lamentations 4 there is a reprisal of the form of the funeral dirge of Lamentations 1 and 2 as well as a recapitulation of the major themes in the first three chapters. Even as voice is given to the formerly silenced voices, we are reminded that the suffering continues. Injustice is not so easily defeated.

The gathering of Christian leaders in Ferguson after the non-indictment of Darren Wilson resulted in a significant commitment to continue to pursue racial justice. These Christian leaders, from varying backgrounds, generations, and ethnicities, were inspired by the example of young leaders who led the protest movement in Ferguson. We were impressed with the good work of the local churches that sought to be the shalom presence for the city by hosting and serving those involved in the nonviolent protests.

As we were getting ready to wrap up our final session, there was an energetic optimism about the church’s potential response to a deep-seated and systemic racism. In the middle of our final session, various phones in the room started to buzz. One of the participants in the room announced that there had been a verdict in the Eric Garner murder—another non-indictment. The confident and optimistic air in the room evaporated. We tried to continue the meeting for a few minutes, but we could not.

Several of the African-American participants left the room after the verdict was announced. One of the youngest participants in the group was an African-American man in his 20s. We could hear him crying in the hallway. The meeting adjourned as the entire group went out to comfort the young man. He began to cry out: “They had video. How could they not indict? There was video this time. ... Why would I want to bring a child into this world? What future would he have?” His lament weighed heavily on all of us. We were reminded that injustice is not easily defeated. Even after multiple laments had been offered, we couldn’t just get over it. There was no “manning up,” and no happy, idealized multiracial worship service to run to. Lament was needed once again. We embraced the young man as he lamented. The inner circle of embrace comprised several older African-American women who surrounded the young man.

Lament will not allow us to revert to the easy answers. There is no triumphalistic and exceptionalistic narrative of the American church that can cover up injustice. There are no easy answers to unabated suffering. Lament continues.

I pray that the events of Ferguson and the ensuing debate about racial injustice will have a positive impact on the American church. We can no longer brush off the long-suffering of others. The church must recover the practice of lament to combat a triumphalistic narrative that hinders the authentic confrontation of injustice in our world. The oft-forgotten book of Lamentations may help to serve as that corrective.