It
has been a number of weeks since I have written, and I found myself waiting for
Pentecost to begin posting again. And then
before Pentecost Sunday arrived the heart of our nation was ripped open and all the
grief, anger, frustration, and pain came pouring out for the life of George Floyd
so senselessly, and yet, purposely taken.
The
words, “I can’t breathe,” said (yet again) in a pleading murmur tears at my heart so badly
that I can barely think about them. How
much of one’s humanity, moral compass, and sense of decency have to have been
shut off, before a person can ignore such a plea?
God
breathed life into the first human being and loved him so much that God
provided him a mate and then gave to them both all this glorious natural
creation for them (and for us) to enjoy. Scripture says it wasn’t until God breathed into the nostrils of the first human that
he “became a living being.” And, as you
know, the story goes downhill from there.
Christianity teaches of the original sin of the first man and woman,
when they disobeyed God’s request. And
humanity continues to disobey God’s natural law of love and gratitude.
In
the same way that our Creator breathed life into us, Christ breathed the Holy
Spirit into the disciples, according to John
20: 19-23. After His resurrection,
he appeared before them, wishing them His Peace. Then He “breathed on them and
said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’”
I find it sorrowfully ironic that breath is so important to each of the
Three Persons of the Trinity, and yet humanity has made so light of it, taken
it away as easily as appearing to comfortably kneel upon a helpless man’s
windpipe with one’s hands in one’s pockets.
How
long before this nation wakes up to its own “original sin” of creating a system
of white supremacy and giving birth to all the ugliest parts of racism? How can any nation truly be peaceful when it
has been founded by the conquering and attempted annihilation of native people? How can there be justice when the land of a
nation was stolen right out from under the indigenous people who lived here for
more than 10,000 years before they arrived?
How can a nation be considered great and powerful when most of its very
foundation was built by human souls that were kidnapped and forced to be
enslaved for centuries? How can there be
equality, when these same people remain enslaved by a system that is weighted
in such a way that only those who have the most power keep the most power?
When
can the breath of living Black men and women, before and after the murder of
George Floyd, be inhaled freely –
without the raggedness of fear and without the shallowness of dread? Has our nation at last reached its tipping
point? Can injustice finally topple and
break open so that everyone can
clearly see that reform needs to start at the top and not stop until it puddles
around the realities of slavery, lynching, Jim Crow, stop-and-frisk, three-strikes
laws, disproportionate incarceration of people of color, and police brutality? When will
these things become ugly memories?
During
this time of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was looking forward to the joy of Pentecost. It’s a time in the church year that I
especially enjoy. This year, 2020, has
been all about breathing – the struggle for breath that those sick with
coronavirus experience. The need for
some to be on ventilators so that their bodies can still take in much needed
air. And now, there’s one more breath to
consider in 2020: The breath being torturously
snatched from a helpless George Floyd, as he lies on the dirty pavement, at the
mercy of merciless men.
Breath
– it’s how we began life. May we each –
and as a nation – come to know the breath of the Holy Spirit, as it cleanses
and renews, as it keeps us alive and makes us holy. God bless you and keep you safe from all
harm.
