Day 6- Emmanuel AME, plantations and chocolate chip cookies with Grammy

This morning started with a tour of some of the African American history of Charleston- and a reminder of how intertwined the lives of African Americans and whites have been for centuries and how uneasy the relationship has been between them in many cases.  We saw slave quarters, such as the unpainted back rooms on the mansions that were only announced by their lack of beauty and prestige.  We heard the stories of slave insurrections and how the slave owners put up spiked bars to protect themselves after th rebellions, rather than actually enacting justice.  We heard about the taxes that freed blacks had to pay and the indignities they had to endure.  We heard about the degrees of blackness (1/2, 1/4, 1/8. . .) and how that determined status.  And we heard how African Americans found ways to resist giving into the system that oppressed them, even though they had to live within it.  Because when you cannot overturn the system right away, you have to find ways to keep it from owning you until that system can be dismantled piece by piece. 

The woman from Charleston Promise who spoke to us yesterday happened to have an aunt who was a historian at Emmanuel AME and she was able to get us a tour this afternoon.  We were able to hear the story of this denomination- founded by a free black man who could not receive communion in his congregation and began his own church where he would be seen as worthy of holding the bread of Jesus in his hands.  And we heard the story of when this congregation- founded in 1818 and forced to close in 1834 after the slave rebellion.  They had to meet in secret to worship for 30 years until they opened again in 1865.  And we got to sit in the sacred space where people keep coming to worship after 9 persons- including most of their ministerial staff- were killed in their basement as they studied Mark 4:26 just 9 months ago.  Ms. Alston talked about how this tragedy has made them stronger, how they are willing to forgive and how this has not made them fearful.   And she spoke of their place in the spotlight as a gift to be able to share who they are and their response to violence.  She spoke as a woman who knew where her true strength comes from.  And it was a holy moment to go downstairs and step into that place of violence, which has been returned to its usage as a fellowship hall.  A place where the body of Christ gathers to defy the evil that tries to take over.   As Christians, this is our calling- to resist the evil and pray for God to clean up what we cannot.  To gain strength from each other and from our identity in Christ. 

After standing in that holy ground, we simply needed a breath, so we went to see a tree.  An old, old tree.  About 500 years old.  The oldest living thing this side of the Mississippi.  The Angel Oak has lived on Johns Island while Native peoples were removed, while Africans were enslaved, while the Civil War was fought, while African Americans fought for civil rights and it keeps living through the horrible stuff we do to each other and through the joys and celebrations.  It's gangly and needs to be held up in places, but also beautiful and strong and expansive.  May we be like it.   

We stopped by the Charles Pinckney Historical Site on the way back-  a rice plantation where slaves outnumbered the whites 6:1 when any whites were even there (this was just one of their homes- they came here for holidays.) The museum told about how children would spend much of their childhood with enslaved Africans- as their cooks, their caretakers and therefore some of their first teachers.  Their lives would be intertwined.  And yet nothing remains of the slave quarters.   Only the owners' house is standing.  And that's a reoccurring theme.  Old homes of the rich exist, but not the shacks of slaves.  Not the places where most of the people lived.  Their houses weren't meant to be lasting.  They were expendable.  As were the people in them.  They were valuable for how they could work, not for their humanity.  So their stories are lost.  Just like they are lost when the ones in power are the ones writing history.  There was sign upon sign of what the owner did in his life.  For the many, many slaves, there and fewer signs, and all ones depicting the enslaved people as a whole.  I know that's because there's not much known for sure about individuals, but it still speaks powerfully to the reality of those lost stories. That unrecognized humanity.

And finally, tonight, we got to Grammy's house, the grandmother of one of our UMBC students, Maddie.  Grammy cooked us dinner, baked us warm chocolate chip cookies and opened her home to a bunch of college students spread throughout her house.  What a gift to us her hospitality is when we are tired and weary from all that our minds are wrestling with. 

Filled up with cookies, we gathered for worship.  Each student brought a prayer or a song or a Scripture for a "potluck worship" and we reflected on the experiences we will bring back with us and what we're still struggling with.  Students  over and over lifted up their conversations with individuals- hearing their stories- as what changed them.  Whether they were conversations with folks that helped them see their future vocation more clearly, conversations with those whose life has been vastly different from their own, or persons who opened up questions they hadn't even considered, it was these relationships and conversations that changed them.  These are what they can't wait to tell someone else about.  And at least half our students shared the same thing they are struggling with- "what is next?"  How do I carry these realities into life?  How do I keep connecting with those in poverty?  How do I know how to work for justice?  How do I resist the forces of racism in our world?  How do I bring healing to the world?  This is the deep privilege of working with college students.  Listening to these questions and the passion with which they speak them.  This gets to be our work in the coming months.  And years.  To keep struggling around these questions of what God has called us to next.  To encourage each other.  To hold each other accountable.  To listen for God together.  And to do what we did tonight- gather around Jesus.  And pass him to each other, as we did the the bread and the grape juice, and remind each other that he's among us and will keep showing a way forward and will walk that way with us.  We leave early tomorrow for the journey home- exhausted, full of questions, but ready to see what God will call us to in these days ahead.