From The Heart of Dr. Jacqueline A. Thompson
I know I am going to be in trouble. I will get calls and texts and emails asking what am I doing and why. I am supposed to be taking my annual leave that (not for trying) always seems to get backed up to December. This is supposed to mean no working including sending this note. But when you are blessed to do what you love, it doesn't really seem like work. So we will just call this sharing. I am not working, I am sharing. I must thank Dr. James Noel, Professor of African American Christianity and Religion at the San Francisco Theological Seminary, who unbeknownst to him has inspired this time of "sharing".
Dr. Noel reflected on a conversation he had with his daughter who like many across generations, culture and class are grappling with the realities of Ferguson. For many, it is devastating to know that what W.E.B. Dubois identified as the problem of 20th Century is STILL the problem of the 21st Century. Even with some African Americans holding the most powerful positions in the land and becoming a part of what Eugene Robinson refers to in his book, Disintegration: The Splintering of Black America, as "a transcendent elite", the events surrounding Ferguson are a haunting reminder for some and realization for others that the problem is still the color line. In reflecting on his daughter's thoughts, Dr. Noel stated "My sense was that she was not simply making a statement but that she was asking her dad a question that all African American kids of her generation need answering during this season of Advent when the despair provoked by Ferguson threatens to eclipse and make "HOPE" either meaningless or a mere cliché--what Marx termed an "opiate."
The idea that hope can be eclipsed, made meaningless, mere cliché and an opiate stuck with me. Whether we admit it or not, it is the danger we live in as believers everyday. So much of life's experiences threaten to steal, kill and destroy our hope. It almost seems unreasonable to expect people to hope or continue to hope in the face of such glaring, repeated unrelenting injustices. To repeatedly ask people to live their lives with an expectation of peace, justice and equality that almost always has resulted in disappointment, disregard and despair all while penalizing them for displaying symptoms of their constant Post Traumatic Stress Disorder feels inhumane. Even as I write, CNN has breaking news that there is no indictment for the officers involved in the death of Eric Garner in New York. No wonder, the Prophet Habakkuk and other writers of the biblical text can be heard asking, "How long Lord?"
From the Middle passage to slavery through Jim Crow, lynchings, legislated segregation, to legal freedom but institutional bondage, sub-par education and prison pipelines. How long, Lord? From Emmet Till and Jimmy Lee Jackson to Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown plus all the other countless names from both eras that are never called. How long, Lord? The Psalmist David asked in Psalm 13:1-3, How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Dr. Cornel West reminds us that to live is to wrestle with despair yet never allow despair to have the last word.
For me that is ADVENT. It is the season that reminds me that despair does not have the last word. The ability to have hope in the midst of despair is inextricably connected to who and what you have placed your hope in. Today it was from that uncomfortable book of weeping, groaning and despair called Lamentations that I was reminded of why I continue to hope. In chapter 3, Jeremiah laments the realities of his life. He speaks of the affliction he has experienced in every area of his life and I am commiserating with him. But around verse 21, he switches on me. He says, "Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will hope in him".
Jeremiah reminds us that our hope does not rest in the power of man, the systems of man or any concept of justice and fairness as constructed by man. Our hope is in the Lord: the Lord's mercy, compassion and faithfulness. Because of the Lord's mercies, we have not been consumed. With all that we have faced historically and continue to face in the present, we have not been consumed. With all that we will face, we will not be consumed. Through all that you have been through and are going through right now as you read this, you have NOT been consumed. There are no easy answers to all the questions we are faced with in this hour. But the hard questions must be asked and the work must be done. We owe it to the ones who came before us and to those who will come behind us.
In this first week of ADVENT, where hope is at risk of becoming empty and cliché, let us actively call some things to mind and renew our hope. For as much as I wanted to disagree with Jeremiah, when I look back over it all and call some things to mind, I must admit I still have hope. And today with even greater clarity and resolve, I can say like the hymn writer Edward Mote: My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame but wholly lean on Jesus' name. On Christ, the solid rock I stand, ALL OTHER GROUND is sinking sand. All other ground, is sinking sand.
Keep hope alive,
Dr. Jacqueline A. Thompson
Assistant Pastor
