That All Can Breathe
The year 2020 is the gift that just keeps on giving. The
pandemic would have been plenty. The dire effect of the shutdown on the economy
has been challenging in varying degrees for all of us. And then there’s the
widespread social unrest in the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd at the
hands of those called to protect and serve.
Ironically, the weekend after Floyd was killed, most
churches were celebrating Pentecost, the church festival some call the birthday
of the church. That weekend a lot of churchgoers heard a lot about breath and
breathing. The Spirit’s coming at Pentecost, visible with tongues of fire,
audible like the sound of a mighty wind. Or was it a mighty breath? Take your
pick, the Greek word there can mean either.
At any rate it was something good. That wind, that breath, empowered
them and propelled them into the streets to proclaim this new thing God was
getting started.
Many churchgoers also heard the story of Jesus on Easter
evening, his appearance to those same disciples. He appeared to that gathering
of disciples, sans Thomas, and showed them the scars of his torture and death
and offered them a word of blessing. Then Jesus breathed on them. He breathed
on them and gave them the gift of that Holy Spirit that Luke reports only came
at Pentecost. Regardless, both imparted by a breath. Breath is life-giving.
This past Sunday in our church and most liturgical churches, we read the long Genesis
account of creation which ends with God creating the human creatures in God’s
own image. In the more detailed account in Genesis 2, the humans were formed
out of the dust of the ground, and then God breathed (Spirit-ed, wind-ed) into
them the breath of life. May I say it again? Breath is life-giving.
Except when it’s not. It was so jarring to me to have these
images of the life-giving breath when we are all locked up in our homes because
of the fear of the other’s breath. As we continue to learn more about the
coronavirus, it is becoming more and more clear that the primary risk is from the
aerosol that is exhaled as breath of an infected person. So, life-giving breath
becomes illness-bearing breath and potentially life-robbing breath.
And the officer who knelt with his knee on George Floyd’s
neck needlessly robbing him of that life-giving breath. For 8 minutes, 46
seconds. That’s a long time. Go set your iPhone timer for 8 minutes and 46
seconds and see how long that feels. How long it feels to have someone kneeling
on your neck and rob you of your breath. Go ahead. I’ll wait. As he was pinned
to the ground with the police officer’s knee on his neck, he repeatedly pleaded
with the officer; “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.” His pleas fell silent on
the ears of those who decided that the life of a black man wasn’t worth the
trouble. Robbed of his breath. Robbed of his life.
Though I’m not expert on crucifixion, I’ve read that those
who hung on the cross actually suffocated – they couldn’t breathe. The weight
of the body pulling down from the extended arms eventually prevented the victim
from expanding their lungs and eventually they could no longer inhale. I wonder
if in the cry “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus was also
saying, “I can’t breathe.”
A crucifixion on the asphalt of Minneapolis.
The breath that God breathed into us is the breath of life;
it is holy breath. Every breathing human is holy. Every human breath is holy
because it comes from the divine; every human who breathes that holy human
breath is the holy creation of the one who breathes into all of us the breath
of life. Period. No exceptions. That’s why we say Black Lives Matter. Some like
to counter, All Lives Matter. Of course they do. That’s the ideal we hope for
and work towards. But as long as there are lives who don’t matter because of
the color of their skin, we have to say it. Black Lives Matter.
How could we ever have misplaced the critical truth that
every human was created in God’s own image? It’s why the outrage is flowing out
into the streets around the country and around the world. The denial of the
equal humanity of black folks has been ignored; add to that the stoking of the
flames of bigotry and hatred and division and it all adds up to death,
literally and figuratively.
I am both heart-broken and outraged and the senseless
brutality and death of George Floyd. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to
be black in this country right now.
But this is not just about injustice to our black siblings.
Racism is suffocating all of us; our black siblings know it because they live
it every day. We white people are suffocating under racism, too; we just don’t
see it and can casually ignore the effects. Racism lies to us about our history
and allows us to live in denial of 400 years of systematic and systemic
oppression of people of color and Native Americans. It hides all the ways that
the success of white people came on the backs of others and leads to the
mistaken assumption that we white people are more deserving than we are. It
robs of us the talents and gifts of our siblings of color. Racism makes us
think that none of this applies to us and that we have a right not to feel
uncomfortable about it. We develop a knee-jerk reaction, “I’m not racist!” that
prevents us from hearing and receiving and understanding the experience of our
siblings of color, and in the end it prevents us from taking responsibility for
our part. We are suffocating. Collectively, we can’t breathe.
In the church, Pentecost is not just a Sunday, it is a
season. Throughout the season, we reflect on our baptismal call to be the body
of Christ in the world. I’m hoping and praying that powerful wind (breath) of
the Spirit that blew through that upper room, will blow once again through the
church and into the world. That first coming of the Spirit was disruptive, and
I’m hoping that this one will be no less disruptive. That She will not only
breathe on us but also send fire to burn us out of our blindness and
complacency and denial. That She will send us out of our ease and comfort into
the streets to stand side by side with our siblings of color. And that She will
light the fire of anger under us so that we will no longer settle for a society
that works only for some of us, but demand that it works for all of us.
So that every man and woman, holy and good, created in the
image of God, can breathe.
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