A friend writes:
In the midst of Tuesday night’s weather chaos, my 10-year-old son and I had the privilege to take part in an interfaith prayer vigil for the victims of the Charleston church shooting. Organized by Upper Darby councilwoman and friend, Sekela Coles, the service brought several hundred community members to the Fresh Anointing Christian Center near 69th Street.
Pastors and leaders from a variety of churches spoke, each with a different message: forgiveness, awareness, racism, search for meaning, strength to fight and not be conquered. We heard people speaking with various accents, and some in native tongue to their congregants who were in the audience. We heard people call out on God in the middle of service, praising His name and chanting “Amen” and “Alleluia”, standing up, clapping, and outstretching their hands to heaven — all which is so very different from my rigid, formalized Catholic experience and upbringing, yet so very moving as a sign of the power of spirit and the freedom of individuality. My son, who observes everything, was amazed to see a full drum set behind the choir. “Why don’t we have drums in our church, mommy?” he asked.
Throughout it all, I felt like the outsider. I didn’t know any of the songs. I didn’t know the scripture verses being referenced, although many in the audience did, and they chanted those phrases in unison with the preachers as they spoke. I could only understand about half of the prayer intoned by Spanish-speaking minister Nolberto Guerra.
At the beginning of the service, I worried that I was “doing it wrong” or thought that some people might judge me as no more than another white person who is part of the problem. Yet somehow the focus became less about “me” and more about “we” — all of us who were there, who took the time to come together, listen, learn, and pray for hearts to heal, and for social justice to make a stand here, in Upper Darby. We could have been home, just watching TV or playing on our phones. Instead, we chose something different. We chose to build community.
It was a powerful way to spend an hour and half among strangers, friends, and community leaders. The lighting of the candles in memory of the victims was very touching. After the last name was read, the crowd started singing “We Shall Overcome,” which I only know from seeing in the movies, as it is not a typical hymn that is sung in our church. From where we were standing in the crowd, it seemed like we were only supposed to sing the first verse. But as the song ended and silence crept up, a middle-aged black woman to my left proudly took up the second verse and the crowd followed her lead.
All night long, I sat in minority shoes — one of maybe 25 white people in the audience. Yet even as a stranger, I felt welcomed by all around. It may not have been a big step forward that I took last night, but it was a step forward all the same, and I was so proud to be able to show my son that there is power is standing with others who look different from you, pray different than you, speak different than you — that those differences, while they define part of who you are, they do not limit who you can truly become.
“True peace is not merely the absence of tension. It is the presence of justice.” – Martin Luther King
Very encouraging – thanks for sharing!