Letter from Lindy April 25

Blessings on this Earth Day, Pilgrims.

I raced home in transition Tuesday, about 4:30, from afternoon meetings on campus to evening meetings at home. Actually, they were all on zoom, so location is a benefit to me alone. I was glued to NPR to learn with the rest of the world the verdict in the Derek Chauvin trial. Our fellow UCC colleagues in the Southern Conference had begun a prayer chain earlier in the day as a way to center and focus us, as church, for the jury’s decision. I so greatly appreciated knowing I was holding this moment with my fellow clergy. Along my route home, my daughter checked in and we reflected on how this decision would affect our country. The different responses possible from Durham to Orlando depending upon the outcome. All eyes from around the world waiting with and watching us.

I have followed this trial throughout to hold before me this intertwined moment of racial reckoning and police accountability. I prayed for justice and feared for a repeat of the systemic pattern of a lack thereof. Lanny walked through the door just as the verdict was being read. We stood in our kitchen, exhaling slowly with each count rendering Chauvin guilty. As with every person who attempted to give voice to individual and collective emotions, finding words that adequately captured the complexity was daunting. It still is today.

I was grateful for the subsequent press conference by the Minnesota Attorney General and his team because his prepared statement touched the contours of my thoughts. It also gave me much to contemplate. “I would not call today’s verdict justice,” said Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison, “because justice implies true restoration. But it is accountability, which is the first step towards justice — and now the cause of justice is in your hands.”And now the cause of justice is in our hands. He is right. It is in our hands. Our work is not done. Heavens, it has but just begun. The cause of justice is also in the hands of our elected leaders at all levels--local, state, federal and congressional. Our work, which last summer’s protests began, is to hold every iteration of our government accountable to transform our broken system. This verdict, a potential spark of hope, if we do not rest.

Driving into the office this morning, I tuned into NPR’s Morning Edition where once again Rachel Martin drew on the giftedness of resident Poet Kwame Alexander to give collective reflection. I have included the audio here if you did not have a chance to hear their conversation. It ended, as they had done a year ago come May, after Mr. Alexander had initiated a poetry callout, inviting listeners to submit their poems in response to the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. "Like most human beings, I find myself drowning in anger, anxiety, fear and still more anger," Alexander said. "And as an American, I see the murder of African American boys as a disease that America cannot seem to cure." People, he said, were trying to make sense of what happened, how it happened and why it happened and then suggested trying through poetry. It was on the very day the two ultimately read this crowdsourced poem that they also learned of the death of George Floyd.

In today’s recording, Alexander again crafted a collective poem that will be displayed at the Civil Rights Museum in Montgomery, Alabama. Words which not only ground us in this moment, but point us toward a future of hope and justice.

grace and peace,
Pastor Lindy
(she/her) why pronouns matter