Tuesday, October 18, 2016

New Deal Resettlement Community

Near the intersection of state highway 561 and Community Center Road in rural North Carolina, just off to the right, sits three buildings that are pivotal to the history of this community of people, and, yes, to all of us who care about justice.  Originally, 18,000 acres were offered during the 1930s and 1940s as a part of Roosevelt's New Deal. The Tillery Resettlement Farm, one of 113 rural communities across the country, was occupied by 150 African American families and approximately 110 white families. Located in the Roanoke River Flood Plain, fraught with constant threat of flooding in the early days, these new landowners were game-changers.  They impacted the social, political, and economic landscape of what was once a plantation region.

There is much more to this history of this beautiful place than these pages can describe. Check this reference for more detail and perspective. Check this one out as well. And this one

Three buildings at this site are now more than 85 years of age and are in need of shoring up and restoration. The Tillery Community Center, The Curin' House, and the Remembering Tillery History House Museum have all weathered the storms of time.  We need to raise $65,000.  That's right.  Just $65,000 to support this community's restoration efforts.

Several families of the original resettlement still own and manage approximately 6,000 acres of the original land.  It is truly a historical place.

On a personal level, this was the place where Charla and I first met Gary Grant, BFAA President, and planned our collaborative effort to interview farmers and families who had been battered and bruised by the USDA and DOJ.  It was this spot that Charla and I celebrated at least two anniversaries and a place in which we have shared meals, danced, lifted up our voices, and discussed matters of importance to the community and to us.  It is the place where I interviewed black farmers and family members, a place where we sang Amazing Grace and cried as the stories unfolded. It is also the location of several Black farmer land loss summits. Other times we have visited because these people are our friends and family.

Please read through these materials and offer your support for the fund raising effort.  Your contributions via the Concerned Citizens of Tillery are tax deductible.  You can help keep the story being told for generations to come.

The fund raising event and the farm mural converge on what will be an amazing day at the Tillery Community Center on Saturday, November 12, 2016. This is where our hearts will be on this historic day. The list of speakers is amazing:  Drs. Spencer Wood and Katherine Charron, Michael Stewart, Evangeline Grant Briley, Gary Grant, and others. The mural by noted local artist Napoleon Hill will be unveiled.

Yes, there is much to digest in this post.  Others will follow. Thanks for your patience in reading.  It will be well worth your time and an encouragement to this community in rural North Carolina that mean so much to Charla and me and to the cause of justice.

The short verse?  Please go to www.cct78.org and contribute via the paypal link.  Charla and I have already contributed and will be listed as "Harvesting the Crops." I hope you will do the same.





 

No More, No More

Bob Dylan is in the news these days for his long career of writing songs.  To receive the Nobel Prize for Literature is no small thing. His rendition of Auction Blocks is stirring, as is Robeson's and Odetta's.

Here is Odetta's:



Here are some additional lyrics that fit the tune and describe the plight of the black farmer and family that popped up in my head a while back.

Hum them, sing them, with emotion, and see if they fit the black farmer cause.

No more sleepless nights for me,
No more, no more
No more sleepless nights for me,
Many thousands gone.

No more wonderin’ when for me,
No more, no more
No more wonderin’ when for me,
Many thousands gone.

No more govm’t threats to me,
No more, no more
No more govm’t threats to me,
Many thousands gone.

No more idle fields for me,
No more, no more
No more idle fields for me,
Many thousands gone.

No more courthouse steps for me,
No more, no more
No more courthouse steps for me,
Many thousands gone.
 
No more land loss tales for me,
No more, no more
No more land loss tales for me,
Many thousands gone.
 
No more hangin’ from a tree,
No more, no more
No more hangin’ from a tree,
Many thousands gone.

Adaptations by Waymon Hinson

Friday, October 14, 2016

From the Voices in My Head


The voices in my head
Speak loudly of the past
Whisper words of dread
Encourage hope to the last.

Cries of injustice
Ring so clear
Compelling me
To be sure to hear.

The voice of peace
Whispers deep within
Searching for joy
Every now and then.

People are hungry
They are lonely and sad
Some are weary
Others just extremely mad.

We place our hope
In the unseen One
We dream of tomorrow
When our race is run.

What difference is made
For the lonely soul
Who watches through the night
Her heart grown cold.

Promises spoken
In offices of power
Then comes the truth
Long before the final hour.

Land of the free
Opportunities will come
With liberty and justice
Only for some.

Yes, the voices in my head
Speak loudly of the past
Whisper words of dread
Encourage hope to the last.

Dream big dreams
Tell stories with might
Hoping some will hear
And enter the plight.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

From the Garden to Righteousness: From Genesis, Amos, and Jesus"

Here are some reflections and thoughts about what I attempted to say from the pulpit at the Bering Drive Church of Christ on October 9, 2016. The entire sermon can be heard online at the Bering Drive Church website for the brave of heart. There are other useful and challenging things on this page from its members and ministers.

My heart was already welling up with emotion moments before Don Edwards, longtime minister for this church, stepped up to introduce me.  The worship service was wonderful.  The responsive reading by Amy Fuller was especially meaningful.  Now it was time for me to speak words of grace over a problem that has long troubled my soul. 

My attempt was to situate the stories of black farmers and their families within the larger context of the violation of shalom in the garden, and then to situate these violent acts of discrimination within the context of institutional racism.  It was not to be their problem, but our problem. We are a part of the violation of shalom, and our attempts to repair it are important though oftentimes limited.

Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?


After telling the church about that pivotal call from the lead counsel for the black farmers in the Spring, 1994, I asked, "What have your calls been? Your taps on the shoulder? Experiences that quicken your spirit, that tear at your soul? What do those phone calls or moments have to do with anything? They have a lot to do with everything. They are a reminder of the brokenness of the world, including myself. They are an invitation to join the struggle."

The texts of John 1 and Genesis 1 declare creation and who was there and what was done and by whom and for what purposes. As Cornelius Plantinga has written, there was "the webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment, and delight in what the Hebrew prophets call shalom. In English we call it peace, but it means far more than just peace of mind or ceasefire between enemies. It is a universal flourishing and delight."

In the eons since the violation of shalom, God has relentlessly pursued us, calling us to return. The law nor the prophets nor the judges brought shalom. The violation of shalom is reflected in injustice, mistreatment, bribes, crooked weights, oppression, lining the pockets of the rich at the expense of the poor, and injustice in the courts. Against these accusations, many of which continue to this day, we hear the words of the prophet Amos, "Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-ending stream."

Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?


For Christ-followers, we have several paths of the walk, according to Foster in Streams of Living Water. The one that makes the most sense to me is that of the social justice tradition, the compassionate life as it impacts three arenas of life:  personally, socially, and institutionally.

My own personal narrative of a 67 year old white male from a small town in East Texas, born into a low SES, but hard-working family, is juxtaposed against the narrative of people of color. What they understood as fairly normal, I was shocked to see.  The stories of discrimination and mistreatment by officials representing the federal government did not phase them.  They had seen it or felt it for years and even centuries in their family narratives.  It was new to me.  I was white then, I am white now, and I will always be white.

He walked in the door limping, using a cane to stay upright, the left side of his face drooping, drooling and using a handkerchief.  He had had a stroke.  She almost danced in, smiling, exuding warmth and delight, but one brief conversation revealed the truth. She had had a psychotic break from too many nights of staying awake, wondering if that would be the night that they would come and take their land. His question, "When will this be over," haunts me to this day.

Yes, and how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?


There are many, many stories of the impact of systemic racism on the hearts, minds, bodies, and souls of black farmers and their families. Many stories are chronicled. Many are not. Despite what one friend of mine said, "These things don't happen in America," they do happen in America. Check out Eddie and Dorothy Wise story, or the Grant story, or others.   They are out there in the public for all to see. My comment then and now is to tell their stories in places and spaces that they cannot or choose not to go.  I am a story-teller and their stories are worth telling and knowing.

Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'till he knows
That too many people have died?


I recall the words of  Frederick Buechner as he was pondering what to do with his life after his tour of duty in the military. "I just wanted to do something for Christ," he wrote as he headed off to seminary. He became a minister and a novelist.  I read some of his writings most every day.

And so I write and do research and blog and make presentations. And so Charla and I are committed to social justice in our small corner of the world. These efforts may be small, who knows, after all, but just do something. Make friends, say hello, ask good questions,  volunteer. Wherever you are, whatever you do, work toward restoring shalom.

We yearn for shalom. We will eventually experience shalom, in the words of Wayne Watson, when "at the ultimate healing we will be home free." While his song speaks of death and dying and why some die young and others do not, the sentiment fits a world gone amuck.

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind


Until we are home free, we determine to make our little corner of the universe a little better than we found it.  That way, we fulfill our calling until He comes.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Stories, Shalom, and a Church

We pulled up into the church parking lot.  The church marquee had these words.

Join us this Sunday
for guest speaker
Dr. Waymon Hinson
From the Garden to Righteousness
 
It was indeed strange. Dr. Jeff Christian, pulpit minister for this church was on sabbatical. Competent speakers had filled his spot on Sunday morning. Now it was to be me. Speaking in public is not generally a problem.  After all, I had been doing this sort of thing all the way back to junior high in my small town church of Christ in Trinity, Texas. Somehow this felt different.
 
Not only did it feel different, it was different. Jeff had known me as an academic sort back in the ACU days when he was an M.Div. student and an earner of the Certificate in Ministerial  Counseling. I'd admired him for a long time and was honored that he and his leaders nodded in my direction. Not only honored that I'd be called up to speak, but called upon to speak and their knowing that the topic would include social justice and black farmers as an illustration of institutional racism in our country from the frame of the garden and shalom to breaking of shalom and how we are where we are now.

This church has been known to "march to its own drumbeat" in the world, so to speak, led by the Lord and His calling upon their life as a body.
 
In preparation for the day, Bering Drive's youth minister, Cynthia Ownby, and I had corresponded. We settled in on Psalm 100 as a call to worship and the Pentatonix version of "Blowin' in the Wind" as the song immediately before I spoke. I was somewhat surprised that this suggestion was taken, but I need not have been.
 
The people at the church were engaging. Charla and I knew some of them. It was nice to see Dr. Amy Fuller and Dr. Dave Fuller. They'd been students and heroes of mine. The church has embraced a gender equality theology and practice to church leadership and worship participation. It was refreshing, very refreshing.
 
Then "Blowin' in the Wind," the tune and the words most of us know, came over the sound system. The words and those beautiful voices brought me to tears.  Could I actually speak after hearing this song since so many of the lines resonate with what I was about to say. Charla knew I was in trouble.

Check out this moving cover here and the words that follow.

 
  
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, and how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, and how many years can a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea?
Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, and how many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, and how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knows
That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Only the introduction by Don Edwards saved me.