Candles in the Wind - Reclaiming Advent Hope
I recall believing I could no longer celebrate the holiday season again. There was too much trauma and pain I simply wished to forget – especially during Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Thanksgiving for me will always be linked to memories of the murders of 37-year-old Tanisha Anderson, killed in Cleveland, OH by the city’s police on November 12, 2014 and Tamir E. Rice, a 12-year-old child from Cleveland, killed by Cleveland police officers on November 22 in the same year. Only a month prior, on October 20, in Chicago, Laquan McDonald was murdered by Chicago police. I couldn’t imagine the agony their families carried with them. I remember Tamir’s mother saying she should be preparing her son’s Christmas wish list, but instead, she had to prepare a funeral for her baby. I felt numb. I admired the courage and faith displayed by all of the families impacted and I sympathized with their unapologetic lament.
We marched in Cleveland’s harsh winter streets in protest, demanding accountability and justice. Marches for young Tamir often began or ended at the makeshift memorial created for him at the park under the gazebo where he was killed, filled with stuffed animals, candles and toys his friends and classmates left behind. Tanisha, a person living with schizophrenia, was body slammed to the ground and died in front of her daughter. Her family called the police for help, instead they robbed them of their loved one. Laquan was only 17-years-old when he was shot 16 times. It seems the year of 2014 was riveted with the agonizing loss of young Black people, murdered at the hands of police, sworn to serve and protect its citizens. How could I bring myself to celebrate amidst so much grief? How could this time of year – a season of Advent, retain its message of hope?
That holiday in 2014, organizers with Movement for Black Lives invited households everywhere to leave an empty seat at the table during Thanksgiving to honor the memory of the countless stolen lives due to racialized violence and police brutality. This included an act of remembrance for 18-year-old Michael Brown, Jr. of Ferguson, Missouri who was murdered by a Ferguson police officer on August 09, 2014. The uprisings in Ferguson helped to elevate outcry from around the world declaring Black Lives Matter* and lead by courageous local activists from Ferguson and St. Louis, disrupting the silence and exposing the breach of law and justice in America. The trending images of thousands of empty place settings at tables across the country starkly captured the depth and urgency of these crimes against humanity. Some table settings had an empty plate and others replaced the dinnerware with a simple candle, perhaps symbolizing the very hope I struggled to hold onto.
Throughout the fall, amidst the protests and demonstrations, Ferguson police mockingly put up a prominent backlit "Season's Greetings" sign in front of the Ferguson Police Station. The sign was erroneous, lacking sensitivity to the deep seated pain of the community. The very image of it was taunting to families and activists gathered there nightly to honor young Mike’s life when some media and some politicians choose to mischaracterize them as violent social disrupters. The truth is, those who held vigil through rain, snow and frigid weather in the streets of Ferguson were disrupting the status quo and exposing the reality of state sanctioned violence and domestic terror in the United States. The light they passionately carried with them was brighter than the mockery of a holiday greeting sign. As Christmas approached, the tenor of love for young Mike, Tamir, Laquan, Tanisha and sadly, too many others, remained strong and unmovable. I marveled at the determined spirits that showed up night after night, preparing meals for each other, offering someone gloves that needed them, collectively raising funds for bail money, and raising heartfelt pleas for justice. The grim and cold nights that numbed our feet and mixed our breath with wintry air did not dissuade the strong presence of a beautiful and bold, Beloved Community. Some people became homeless, were expelled from school or fired because of their activism. They still showed up as if they knew the people – the village, would take cover and protect them. I began to see a newness in Christmas.
I was reminded of the unrest and injustice in the backdrop of Christ’s birth. So many innocent young children were maliciously murdered by the state government out of fear of the Light and Hope in the world (Matthew 2:16). The agony and pain of such atrocity must have reverberated fear across the land. Yet, the persistence to affirm the sanctity of life did not fade. The indecent acts of harming innocent lives did not hinder hope. Hallelujah for the persistence of God’s unabridged love. And thank God for the persistence of the movement affirming the full humanity of Indigenous, Asian, Black, Brown and LGBTQIA+ lives – too often, disproportionately killed by police. Thank God for the cadence of the movement and her songs, prayers and protest. Thank God for the life giving words of Assata Shakur which were repeated in call and response at protests from the streets of Baltimore, Ferguson and Cleveland, to the streets of Chicago, Atlanta and Los Angeles: “It is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love and support one another. We have nothing to lose but our chains!”
I felt revived each time I experienced Assata’s words in community. I found the collective sound uplifting in the same way my heart leaps with hope when singing “Lift Every Voice and Sing” (Black National Anthem) by James Weldon Johnson. Assata’s words offered a litany of healing, warmth and optimism. Isn’t that the expectant message of Advent? One night clergy leaders lead a march in front of the Ferguson police station. We brought our own light that stretched well beyond the block of the police station. A culturally diverse and multigenerational crowd carried our own candles. As we marched, we struggled to keep our candles lit due to the windy conditions that night. Each time a candle would blow out, someone would come right up and relight it with theirs. Folks were laughing at our futile efforts to keep those candles ablaze. I laughed so hard I almost forgot how cold it was. The spirit of justice was our fire. It was our advent hope. We didn’t need those candles. The ridiculous “Seasons Greetings” sign faded in the background. It no longer mattered. Our message of solidarity was firm and clear. The night of holding candles in the wind brought our souls much needed levity and ushered in some peace and joy. Yes, we were hurting. Yes, we were angry. Yes, to all of these things and more. Including, yes, we are the custodians of hope, love, peace and joy, too.
Each Christmas, I still remember those young innocent lives that were murdered at the hands of police and the many that have died before and after them. I also remember we were and still remain a relentless movement. We are an inextinguishable ember burning for justice. This is the message of Christmas I now choose to carry in my heart. It is a message echoed in Assata’s clarion call to fight for freedom inclusively, with love, and in support of one another. Christmas reminds us, we have nothing to lose but our chains!
Christ came to break those chains of suffering and bondage. Christ is our liberator and I am reclaiming Advent hope.
Thank you for sharing in the struggle for freedom, inclusion and love alongside Community Renewal Society throughout the year. May you be inspired with Advent hope, love, joy and peace this season and beyond.
With Liberating Love,
Rev. Dr. Waltrina N. Middleton
Executive Director
P.S. Don’t miss our Martin Luther King Jr. Faith in Action Assembly on Monday, January 17. Join us to learn about the history of reparations and our advocacy plans for 2022. Learn more and register to attend the virtual event.
*The phrase Black Lives Matter was created following the racial profiling and murder of 17-year-old Trayvon B. Martin of Miami Gardens, FL killed on February 26, 2012 by a self-proclaimed vigilante