by Keith Davis
HOLY SPIRIT, FROM MY MOUTH, YOUR WORDS; IN OUR HEARTS, YOUR LOVE AND COMPASSION; WITH OUR LIVES, YOUR WILL FOR US THIS DAY AND ALWAYS. AMEN
On Palm Sunday, March 24th of this year, Christians around the world began their Holy Week journey with Jesus. As part of my own journey, I participated in a ritual that has become quite meaningful to me over the years, The Stations Of The Cross. This year, I was particularly drawn to the fifth station, SIMON HELPS JESUS CARRY HIS CROSS. Tradition holds that Simon, a darker skinned Cyrenian, traveling through Jerusalem, is summoned by a Roman soldier to help Jesus carry his cross.
As I often do, I placed myself in the scene and wondered how I would have responded. Would I, a dark skinned male, perceived as “the other” in the crowd, have refused the command of the soldier, a symbol of law enforcement at that time? As our Evangelist-In-Residence, Marjorie D Grevious, said in one of her sermons: I’LL LET YOU PONDER THAT.
As Simon grapples with the cross, I also wonder if Jesus gave signs or words of encouragement to Simon, thereby easing Simon’s load. I see two men, struggling together, bearing one another’s burdens: Simon, the cross of Jesus; Jesus, the sins of Simon and the world. Words in the station’s concluding prayer may offer an answer: MAY OUR MUTUAL DEPENDENCE BE A SOURCE OF JOY AND AN OCCASION OF GRACE, KNITTING US TOGETHER IN THE COMMUNITY OF LOVE.
This past June, I was blessed to be commissioned a member of the Circle Of Care, part of the Community of Hope International. Part of it’s mission is to be a listening presence in the lives of others, especially in uncertain times, and to listen, as St Benedict said, “with the ear of the heart.” Though still new to this ministry, I’m learning that people, particularly in difficult times, want to be heard, to be valued, not to be judged by their circumstances, or to just have someone be with them as they work through their troubles.
Today, we honor seminarian and martyr Jonathan Myrick Daniels who bore the burdens of the disenfranchised, lived and worked with people struggling to be treated with dignity and respect, and who sacrificed his own life doing so. His witness offers a template for courageously living one’s convictions, even when the price for doing so may be steep.
Jonathan, also known as Jon, was born and raised in the idyllic, predominantly white, working class town of Keene, New Hampshire, in 1939. Jon’s dad was a doctor and World War II hero and quite influential in Jon’s formative years. He saw his dad’s medical vocation as “sacrificial.” He said his dad’s dedication to the welfare and healing of his patients showed him that “deep concern for human pain doesn’t end.”
Jonathan, described as complex, moody, rebellious, serious, and a prankster, had a passion for literature and music, calling them “the instruments of my personal salvation.” He also found deep meaning in religion and was drawn to ministry. Unpopular with his male peers, especially the more athletic boys, he was often ostracized and ignored. The pain of being excluded would have a lasting impact on his life.
In his senior year of high school, Jonathan became an Episcopalian. He was moved by the ritual and liturgy of the church, which was quite different from his family’s Congregational Church roots.
An introspective young man who wrestled with the existential questions of who am I and what is my purpose, Jonathan determined that a religious vocation was his calling. Many were surprised when Jonathan chose to attend the Virginia Military Institute, VMI, for college. Perhaps he needed the order and discipline or felt a duty to continue the family lineage, as his relatives had fought in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, and his dad in WWII.
At VMI, with it’s harsh discipline, Jonathan encountered, what he perceived as, physically, mentally, and emotionally abusive treatment of his first year class. It was also here, in Lexington, VA, Jonathan became acquainted with a new reality to him, racial segregation.
While at VMI, Jon’s father died. His death shook Jon’s faith and made him question his calling to the ministry. Jonathan graduated from VMI with honors, being selected valedictorian, in 1961. He was accepted into Harvard’s Graduate School, where he planned to continue his studies in literature.
The year at Harvard was anything but fruitful. Jonathan suffered severe depression and worried deeply about his family. His father’s death left his mother financially insecure and his sister was dealing with her own emotional trauma. The anguish and suffering he endured seemed overwhelming. And then, Easter Sunday, 1962 arrives. Here, as some of my Wisconsin friends like to say, is “where the cheese gets binding.”
While attending Easter service at THE CHURCH OF THE ADVENT in Boston, Jonathan has, what is described as, a “conversion experience” and renewal of grace. He decides to return to church, having stepped away after his dad’s death, and to seek Holy Orders, as Jonathan says, “in God’s good time.” He leaves Harvard at the end of the school year and returns to Keene to help support his family.
In the fall, he applies to the Episcopal Theological Seminary in Cambridge, MA. He is accepted in the spring of 1963 for admission that fall.
Throughout his years at seminary, Jonathan, like others around the world, witnesses the atrocities occurring to Blacks in America. Images of peaceful protesters being savagely attacked by police, K9s, and others fill television screens and other media.
In 1965, Martin Luther King issues a call for clergy, students, and others to join the march from Selma, AL to the state capitol in Montgomery. Moved by Dr King’s words and plea, Jonathan wonders how he should respond. While doing so, he attends Evening Prayer and hears the words of The Magnificat. Here is where the cheese binds a little more.
Hearing The Magnificat makes a profound impact on Jonathan, similar to the Easter service experience in Boston years before. The Song Of Mary clarified for him what he must do. As he said, “Then it came, ‘He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and the meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things.’ I knew then that I must go to Selma. The Virgin’s song was to grow more and more dear in the weeks ahead.”
The ability of words to move us, to inspire us, to call us to action, especially when spoken passionately and with purpose, can stir the soul.
Jonathan goes to Selma, participates in the march, and returns to the seminary. For Jonathan, however, more can be done. “Deep concern for human pain doesn’t end.” He returns to Selma and, among many tasks, works with locals to register people to vote, working along side future congressman John Lewis, activist Stokely Carmichael, and other civil rights workers, commonly referred to as “outside agitators.” He lives with a Black family, the Wests, at the risk of the family’s welfare, as well as his own. Jonathan endeared himself to the Wests. To them, this white man was family.
On August 14th, Jonathan, along with others, intending to picket a WHITES ONLY store, was arrested in Fort Deposit, AL and hauled, in a garbage truck, to a jail in Hayneville. For six days, the group was detained in a facility without air conditioning. On August 20th, all were released.
As the group waited for transportation home, Jonathan and three others went to buy beverages at a store across the street. A part time deputy sheriff, with shotgun in hand, refused entry to the group. After words were exchanged, the deputy raised his shotgun, aiming it at 17 year old Ruby Sales. Jonathan steps in front of Ruby just before the sheriff fired, absorbing the full impact of the blast, killing him instantly. I’ll let you ponder that for a moment.
(OH, FREEDOM)
I wonder where we would have been in the Selma 1965 story? Would we have been among those beaten, hosed, and jailed? Would we have been actively registering voters and been present, even living with those struggling for dignity and equality? Would we have been Jonathan Myrick Daniels, willing to confront evil and hatred at the end of a shotgun?
Fast forward. Where are we in today’s story? In the mire of our national divisiveness and strife, the plight of the unhoused and immigrants, those struggling with addictions and loneliness, and a host of other social/moral/ethical issues, what are we doing to help bear the burdens of those in need?
Lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi. Roughly translated: What we pray, shapes what we believe, shapes how we live.
Jonathan Myrick Daniels’ own words remind us of our responsibilities as loving and caring people, as stewards of God’s human creation, as followers of Christ: SOMEBODY MUST VISIT THE SICK AND THE LONELY AND THE FRIGHTENED AND THE SORROWING. SOMEBODY MUST COMFORT THE DISCOURAGED. ARE YOU LOVINGLY AND WILLINGLY WITH THE ANGUISHED DOUBTER? SOMEBODY MUST REMIND THE SICK SOUL THAT HEALING IS WITHIN [THEIR] GRASP AND URGE [THEM] TO TAKE THE MEDICINE WHEN THE DISEASE SEEMS MORE ATTRACTIVE. ALSO, I HEARD THE VOICE OF THE LORD SAY “WHOM SHALL I SEND AND WHO WILL GO FOR US?” THEN SAID I, HEAR AM I, LORD. SEND ME.”
May we, like Jonathan Myrick Daniels, willingly confront injustice, share the burdens of our neighbors in need, be present for those who struggle, listen to one another with the ear of the heart, and spread kindness and compassion without ceasing. And, when God asks us WHOM SHALL I SEND, may we boldly proclaim, “Here am I, Lord. Send me. Because if we don’t, who will?
AMEN
