There exists in America an invisible fellowship of those whose lives have been impacted by cruel and unjustifiable violence. Among the earliest gifts that Old South Church received was a banner created by a UCC church near the site of the Oklahoma City bombing. And yesterday, a box containing one thousand folded paper cranes was hand-delivered to the church.
A reflection offered by the clergy of Old South Church in Boston
As controversy roils and anger erupts around the disposition of a terrorist’s body, we offer these reflections.
The duty the living owe to the dead is a subjective and circumstantial matter. Even so, there is an ethical, moral standard we do well to consider: Over the centuries, civilizations have abided by a minimum standard of “respect” for the bodies of the dead ... particularly those of the enemy, the despised and the immoral.
This standard has evolved for good reasons.
We opened our doors this morning for the first time in over a week. We are back in business as a Sanctuary in the City whose doors are open to all: a house of refuge, beauty, prayer, peace and reflection. Boylston Street will soon resemble its old self: a churning, multicultural vessel of cafes and shops, tourism and business, majestic architecture and American history. But we have been changed. We witnessed an act of violence, the loss and altering of life. We experienced terror, horror, evacuation and occupation.
Words fail us. Explanations, even though we eagerly seek them, will never be able to reverse what has happened. In times like these, it is a comfort that we do not always need to rely upon our own words to express our emotions. In times like these, it is a comfort to turn to the words of the psalms. Part prayer-book, part hymnal, the psalms express the depths of sorrow and the heights of redemption. These words, ones of both anger and hope, are taken from Psalms 74, 75, and 85:
Glowering sky. Gusting winds. The city that “invented America” on lock down. Manhunt. Controlled explosions. Evacuations. Sirens. The whomp whomp of chopper blades. Arms and armor everywhere. It is the strangest, strangest day.
We may be the first to encounter the precise strangeness of this day, but we are not the first to be shaken by strangeness. With our ancestors, l take comfort from the words of the Psalmist, Psalm 46:
God is our Refuge and Strength. A very present Help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth should Change …
Dear Old South Church,
The Church of the Open Door is still ministering … despite the fact that our door is locked and we remain a crime scene.
We are ministering in New Orleans where our mission team is building a home.
We are ministering through Rev. June Cooper, our Theologian in the City who has been offering trauma counseling at the Castle.
We are ministering through Lucy Costa who works with the Red Cross and is on the front lines.
Our nurses and doctors are ministering in the hospitals, caring for souls and hearts as well as broken bodies.
Dear Old South Church,
I am sorry we have not been in touch. First and foremost: are you okay? Please, please let us hear from you. We have members who were injured in the blast as well as some traumatized by what they saw and heard.
We remember in prayer the three whose lives were so suddenly and cruelly taken, those who are injured and healing, injured and fighting for their lives, those who grieve and, with great thanksgiving, countless responders.
It’s a given that before you can take a second step you must first take the first one. It’s certainly true in the development of our children’s bodies and minds. It’s true in learning any skill or in understanding an idea or concept. Learning the scales precedes playing a piano concerto.
At Old South Church in Boston we have built an entire worship service around the baptismal font. While we feast at Christ’s table at least twice a week (at First Worship on Sunday mornings and Jazz Worship on Thursday evenings), our newest service, Evening Worship, is centered on the font ... on baptism, on what it means and what it takes to live as a marked person.
At a meeting of this church in April of 1731, the members voted to erect a “decent” canopy over the pew used by His Excellency, the Governor. Why? To keep up with the neighbors of course!