"Mother God"

ASHERAH

"You shall not plant any tree as a sacred pole beside the altar that you make for the LORD your God; nor shall you set up a stone pillar - things that the LORD your God hates" (Deuteronomy 16:21,22).

I really wish you all could see me right now.  I am smiling as mischievously as I did when I was a young girl and Mama or one of my aunts made the mistake of bending over in front of me.  It is also not lost on me that this particular post is coming immediately after my Father's Day post.  It's the kind of "stuff," my father would have gotten a great laugh out of.  He would have thought it to be utterly hilarious and fitting that I present the following information and yes, that his daughter, is one of the folks trying to introduce it into mainstream - you know, where regular ole "common" folk, the people, the masses, would be able to access it.  So as I, we delve further into the book of Deuteronomy, we encounter the aforementioned scriptural text.  It is a scriptural text that many of you might not have ever paid any particular attention to, but one that actually introduces us to a particularly particular character and name that does and does not exist in the Bible.  A name synonymous with the "sacred pole," and an "almond tree" designed with divine specifications.  It is a character with a name that brings home the three main selling points in real estate - location, location, location.

Yes, location IS everything!  And where the "sacred pole" and the stylized "almond tree" was "located" in the Tabernacle - within the "Holy of Holies" - is everything too.  For you see, there you will find or shall I say, there you would have found ASHERAH - God's (YHWH's) beloved wife, consort, and co-creator.  I say "would have found" her if a full scale rewriting of the sacred text had not taken place under the direction of King Josiah during the Babylonian Exile.  But of course, we won't get into that until 2 Kings.  But for now, know this, a full fledged campaign went into destroying Her image and all manner of reverence and worship of Her.  It was all a part of what would set Israel apart from other peoples and their Gods - Monotheism (The doctrine or belief in one God).  In contrast, Polytheism (The doctrine and/or belief in more than one God or Gods) was the usual religious practice of neighboring peoples in Canaan.  And, quiet as it's kept, Israel was no exception.  They, too, worshiped, burnt incense and made offerings of raisin cakes to ASHERAH, also known as the "Queen of Heaven" (Jeremiah 44:15-19).  And while we may have been given her name in Deuteronomy, I don't believe this to be the first time we've encountered her.

Back in the book of Numbers, another peculiar event takes place in the history of Israel and it goes a little sumptn like this:  When setting out from the Mount of Hor, "The people, spoke against God and Moses, 'Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?  For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.'  Then the LORD sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died..."  I don't need to tell you the people got themselves right together after that and cried out to Moses, confessing their sin against him and God and asked him to pray for them, asking God to take away the serpents.  Being a gracious and compassionate God, the LORD instructed Moses to "Make a poisonous (Fiery) serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.  So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live" (Numbers 21:4-9).  At this point, there are two things that I feel I should not have to tell you...  First, yes, it is no real stretch to connect the dots to the caduceus of Hermes (the image of two snakes intertwined around a staff ) that eventually became associated with the practice of medicine.  The second thing I should not have to tell you is that throughout ancient Near Eastern culture, ASHERAH was known as the "Goddess of Healing," fertility, and immortality.

Surely you know this is only the beginning of our "getting to know" our Mother God, ASHERAH.  While King Josiah and his scriveners, along with a whole host of very creative and very determined men, tried as they might, to eradicate the presence, knowledge and importance of our Mother God, She is there and available to us.  And in this age of Truth, Understanding, Revelation and Liberation, all we have to do is to desire to know Her, seek Her and dare to speak of Her.  For if we do, She will surely be found - out.

"Harmony and understanding
Sympathy and trust abounding
No more falsehoods or derisions
Golden living dreams of visions
Mystic crystal revelation
And the mind's true liberation..." 

     (James Rado, Gerome Ragni, Galt MacDermot) 

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"My Father, Myself"

HAYWARD RAY HALL, Sr.  "Bulldog"

I was numb.

He was dangerous. 

He was bad.  He was fierce, one of the biggest and baddest linebackers "Podunk" had ever seen.  If you ever found yourself on the opposing team in a football game and had the nerve, the audacity, the unmitigated gall to think that you could or should try to traverse the football field anywhere near him; you were… well, hopefully you're okay today.  He was popular.  No, he would have never been voted "best looking," or even "most likely to succeed," but he, Elvin “Coach” Carlton and the rest of the crew, all but ran Black Hollywood High.  They were the boys that all the teachers kept a watchful eye on.  They were the boys for which all the girls jockeyed to get their attention.  They were the boys the other boys wanted to be.  They were cool, loud, obnoxious, class clowns and yes, the stars of the football team that gave "Podunk" its first State Championship. 

There he was.

There death was. 

In an instant, I found myself standing face to face with death.  I remembered the heaviness of my body as some sinister force began tugging at it, seemingly threatening to yank my entire skeletal system right out of my body.  My legs, once strong enough to run the 400 and 800 meter relays, 100 meter hurdles and compete in the high jump – in one track meet – were suddenly too weak to carry me five steps from the spot that held me.  Colored in the hue of death, his lifeless body, once so strong and impervious, was under siege.  “What have they done to you” I asked?  I had to get to him.  Weakened, I prayed for fortified steel.  Without it, I would have pulled my father and all that was attached to him down on top of me.  I leaned over and pulled him to me.  I tried as hard as I could to smell him, but there was no scent – none.  I tried to hear him – there was no sound – nothing but the incessant beeping of rude machines busy robbing him of his dignity.  His face was distorted.  His body was odd and unfamiliar.  My father – the muthafucka of all muthafuckas – was no more.

My father was not a religious man.  He believed in a higher power, whatever that power may be, but church, the bible, Christians – they didn’t have a chance with my father.  I loved and respected him for that.  Like most of everything in his life, my father lived by his own rules and on his own terms.  No one could tell him what to do or how to believe. 

So, I called them. 

I called them all – God, Allah, Budda, Krishna, Oladumare, the Universe, the Ancestors, Saints, Orishas and even Jesus.  I summoned them all to bear witness of my father, to make an account of his life, his service, his commitment to his people, his art, his passion, his pain, his hopes, fears and joy.  'Remember him and re-member him into your midst, and into your care.  Re-join him with his ancestral clan and set him in a high place of honor.  Grant him space and chance to continue to walk with me, to watch over and protect me.   In the name of all that is good, all that is right, all that is just, all that is peace and even Jesus – Amen – Ase’, Ase’, Ase’o.'

Goodnight daddy, I love you.  I'll see you on the other side of midnight. 
(The above is an excerpt from my novel, title and publication pending)

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"Dear Diary"

Deuteronomy

"Soon I will be done
With the troubles of the world
Troubles of the world
Troubles of the world
Soon I will be done
Troubles of the world
I'm going home to live with God..."

 

Dear Journal: 

This is my last [Will and] Testament.  My name is Moshe, aka Moses.  I am also known affectionately as, Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses, our Teacher/Rabbi).  I don't know why I said, "affectionately," because from the beginning of my walk with the LORD, the God of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob, you so-called "chosen" people have vigorously come against me.  Starting as far back as my birth, my life has consisted of having to fight for one thing after another - and often times, for an ungrateful, rebellious and stiff-necked group of people.  But, before I get into that, let me just say that I am coming to the end and I feel the need to get a few things off my chest before I turn this thing over to my adjutant, Joshua.

The first thing I need to do is remind you, O Israel, that when you were an enslaved people, under the yoke of Egypt's Pharaoh, I am the one that brought you out of that bondage.  Yeah, that's right, I, at the LORD's behest, returned to Egypt, brought plagues down on Egypt - right down to the death of all of their firstborn males, until Pharaoh let you go!  Then, after the LORD blew his nose or something and parted the Red Sea, it was I that walked you through on dry land, and not one of you even got wet.  Were you impressed by that?  No!  Every time I turned around, I had to deal with your moaning and groaning and constant complaining about one thing or another.  First it was the golden calf incident, the scouts I sent into the land, and your appetite!  Geez Louise!  Your cry for food prompted the LORD to provide manna for you to eat.  No, you had never seen it before, and neither had I, but it did the trick.  Then you complained about not having any meat!  So the LORD sent out a wind to the Red Sea, causing quail to come into the camp.  To your delight, you went about your way and collected the quail all day.  While the meat, which you demanded, was still in your greedy little mouths, the LORD's anger was kindled against you and brought a plague against you by way of the very thing you wanted so much.  Many of you fell to that plague.  We buried those who died from it in that same place (NRSV Numbers 11:31-34). 

Throughout the forty years that we wandered in the wilderness, you also complained about my leadership, so I anointed my brother, Aaron, Priest of priest to help with management.  I even elevated my sister, Miriam, but in due time, both she and Aaron rose up against me because I married an Ethiopian woman!  Are you serious?  Have you seen the Ethiopian women?  You'll soon find it difficult to stay away from them too.  Anyhue, needless to say, my friend, the LORD - whom I, and I alone, spoke to "face to face," and "mouth to mouth" - for my sake, punished them both.  Surely you know because Miriam was a woman, her punishment was much more severe than Aaron's (vv. 12:1-10).  Nevertheless, we waited until she was better and her leprosy had gone away before we set out to our next camp site. 

Every freaking step of the way, you were a faithless and disobedient nation.  I grew weary of you and that weariness cost me greatly.  Because of your lack of faith and disobedience, the LORD determined that no one from this generation would enter into the Promised Land.  No one, no not even I, would be granted passage into the land promised to our ancestors.  Why?  Well, it happened back at the rock, when you complained yet again about being thirsty.  The LORD instructed me to stand before the congregation and speak to the rock and it rock would yield its life-giving water.  But, I heard your grumblings, and I was "sick and tired of being sick and tired," so I raised my hands and spoke harshly to you as I struck the rock twice.  Most assuredly, the rock yielded refreshing, and rejuvenating water for you and all your livestock.  Yet the LORD was angry with me because I did not trust and obey by doing what I was instructed to do.  As such, and even after all I had done, I, too, was forbidden to enter into the Promised Land (vv. 20:5-12).  I am left only to prepare you to take possession of a good land, "a land flowing with milk and honey," and to leave you with the Law, the ways of governance and all of the LORD's commandments.

"So now, Israel, give heed to the statutes and ordinances that I am teaching you to observe, so that you may live to enter and occupy the land that the LORD, the God of your ancestors, is giving you.  You must neither add anything to what I command you nor take away anything from it, but keep the commandments of the LORD your God with which I am charging you" (Deuteronomy 4:1,2).  My time with you is not long and soon, I, too, will go the way of the ancestors...  Goodbye, good luck and good riddance!

"No more weepin' and wailin'
No more weepin' and wailin'
No more weepin' and wailin'
I'm going home to live my Lord

Soon I will be done
With the troubles of the world
Troubles of the world
Troubles of the world
Soon I will be done
Troubles of the world
I'm going home to live with my Lord..."
                                    (Mahalia Jackson) 

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST! 

"In With The New..."

Numbers 26-36

Please indulge a black woman for a moment.  I realized my failure to mention on my last post, the very weird narrative of the talking ass (donkey) in Numbers 22:22-30.  How I forgot to include that little tidbit escapes me.  After all, it is the scripture referenced by many women when the need is felt to justify or qualify our call into the ministry.  So very quickly, here's a synopsis of the narrative; Israel is on the march and has just defeated King Sihon of the Amorites and King Og of Bashan - killing the families of both Kings, all their people and taking possession of their land.  Balak, son of Zippor and King of Moab, observed Israel's military prowess and requisitions.  Real quick, if you've been following this blog, and I believe you have, then you know Moab was the child born out of the incestuous encounter between Lot and his eldest daughter (refer to "God's Got a LOT of Nerve," 11/30/2010).  Thus, the Moabites are the descendents of that incestuous encounter.  Back to the talking ass story... 

After watching Israel destroy two kingdoms, Balak summons Balaam, son of Beor, (also said to be a "seer of the gods"), to curse Israel.  After a couple of delays, Balaam, gets up, readies his donkey, secures a couple of servants for the journey and sets out to meet Balak.  Traveling on his donkey, Balaam is confronted by an angel of the Lord that appears on the road "as his adversary."  Unlike Balaam, the donkey sees the angel of the Lord with a drawn sword and turns aside onto a field.  Balaam struck the donkey to correct it and turn it back onto the road.  The angel of the Lord then stood in a narrow path with a wall on each side.  Seeing this, the donkey tried to avoid the angel and in doing so, scraped against the wall and thus scraped Balaam's foot along the wall.  Angered and yes, probably in some pain, Balaam struck the donkey again.  A third time, the angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path, denying the passage of the donkey, and his master, Balaam, on either side.  With nowhere else to go, the donkey, laid down under his master.  Balaam's anger grew and again, he struck the donkey a third time with this staff.  At this point the "miraculous" happens...  God opens the mouth of the donkey, allowing it to ask his master; "What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?"  Taking a cue from Dr. Doolittle, Balaam responds to the talking ass, saying, "Because you have made a fool of me!  I wish I had a sword in my hand!  I would kill you right now!"  The talking ass admonishes Balaam in his statement; "Am I not your donkey, which you have ridden all your life to this day?  Have I been in the habit of treating you this way?"  Balaam replies, "No" (NRSV Numbers 22:20-30).  Yep, that's it!  That's the story of the talking ass.  As quickly as it was thrown in there, is as quickly as it's over. 

Now, if you've heard it once, you've heard it a hundred times, from women, or lesbian and gay men and women who have been called into the ministry; "If God can use a donkey, praise be to God!  I know He can use me!"  Hear me when I say this in the best black woman's tone and vernacular that I can summon up - "Chile please!"  Stop it!  We don't have to justify, qualify or quantify our calling into the ministry to anyone.  And we most certainly should not be comparing our "calling" to some weird, fictional account of a talking ass!  Give me a break!

Whew...  Okay, I'm done with that nonsense...  In the last post I talked about Israel's journey and march toward the banks of Jordan.  It was the end of a rebellious and disobedient generation of people who had seen all the signs and wonders of God and yet, could not, would not, remain faithful.  As a consequence, not one of them were allowed to enter into the Promised Land.  Instead, Joshua was anointed/commissioned as prophet and priest to lead this new generation of Israel into the Promised Land.  And a good time was had for all.  Joshua and the new generation got together, fired up the grill, poured a bounty of "strong drink" unto the Lord and partied harder than attendees at a Prince concert.

If we read the scriptures literally, that is, as they are written and believe they are a continuous document, written in chronological order, from Genesis to Revelation, then I suppose, while Joshua and the "Next Generation," were partying all night, Moses took a much needed break to write in his diary all that had happened during their time in the wilderness.  That diary would be the next book in the bible, Deuteronomy.  So stay tuned as we sneak a peek into the private thoughts, feelings, frustrations, betrayals and disappointments of Moses, the great deliverer.  Right now though, I think I'm gonna do like Joshua and the next generation and get my groove on.  Thankfully, I don't have to wake up in the morning and invade other people's lands, annihilating all of them and then promptly set up shop like I was supposed to be there in the first place.
© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"Out With The Old..."

Numbers 1-25

The adage, "Out with the old and in with the new," is one that takes a minute or two or three for many of us to get our mind around.  I have clothes that I simply cannot part with, furniture that is more hazardous to my body than trying to climb a tree, and friends that I know secretly wish for my misfortune.  But there is something about familiarity that comforts me and keeps me doing the same thing even if it is not in my best interest to continue to do so.  So too is the case when many Christians encounter our faith tradition and the sacred text.  As evidenced by the frequency of their appearance on this blog, I have a special affinity for the old Negro Spirituals.  They move me in ways the contemporary Gospel music does not.  It doesn't change the fact, however, that I am more left of center when it comes to my faith walk.  I, too, am often chided about my taste in Gospel music, although, I have found that when the music is heard again, it brings back fond memories of years past.

So yes, it is easier and more comfortable to continue down the same road.  We know the route, we know all the landmarks and nothing is different or changes.  The road becomes stale, dank and dusty with potholes of (mis)understanding and cracks of misinterpretation of the scriptures.  This is what I call "auto pilot Christianity."  Rather than delve deeper into our faith, utilizing our fully engaged mind, we walk into church and flip on the "auto pilot" switch, letting the preacher and the worship service take us down the same path the same way we went last week and the week before that and the week before that.  There are no new awakenings, no new sightings and experiences.  The same songs are sung and the same people get up and go on display (that is if you belong to one of those churches).  And if you do, you know exactly what I'm talking about. 

The problem with bringing our whole mind into the worship experience, however, is that we would have to admit to at least a few things; 1) The bible is not infallible, 2) The bible is not written in chronological order, and, in this case, 3) An individual by the name of "Moses" did not write the Pentateuch, rather - as scholars suggest - the first four books were compiled by a group of "Jerusalemite priests," during the Babylonian exile.  Believe it or not, I get it.  For many, letting go of the old, revamping tradition, is harder than throwing away an old comfortably worn out pair of jeans.  The operative word or phrase there is "worn out."  It is old, tired, outdated, antiquated, stultifying and repressive.

It appears this may have been the case for the first "wilderness" generation.  That is the generation that is reported to have endured extreme persecution in Egypt and fled into the wilderness.  They were the generation who lived through and gave us the stories of making bricks without straw, the plagues on Egypt, the mass exodus, the parting of the Red Sea, that mysterious food from heaven, and the establishment and set up of the Priesthood and the Tabernacle respectively.  They are also the generation that, surprisingly enough, was consistently disobedient to God.  Consequently, at the end of chapter 25, this entire generation dies and none of them (and we'll find out later, including Moses), is allowed to enter into the "Promised Land."

I don't know about you, but it seems to me that there could be an argument made here about tradition when it fails to remain faithful and relevant.  When tradition becomes so rigid in practice that it yields little to no ground for new, reinvigorating, rejuvenating energy, and ways of knowing and ways of being.  I mean for real, how much longer can we continue to go to church on those special "Holydays" and hear the same sermon that we've heard since we were children?  How much longer will we continue to sit, waiting for the moment when we can participate in the Black Church's tradition of "call and response," because we already know what the preacher is going to say?  Furthermore, the greatest reaction during the worship service is when the preacher manages to throw an unexpected twist into the story.  C'mon now... Where's the beef?!!

Like the first 25 chapters of Numbers, I am grateful for the experiences and sacrifices of those who have come before us.  I am grateful for the narratives that taught us "How [we] got over."  I am even grateful for the tradition that has brought us "thus far on the way."  But like the scripture informs us of Israel's lack of faith, that although they may have witnessed God's holiness and seen the signs of God's glory, "yet have tested [God] these ten times and have not obeyed [God's] voice" (Numbers 14: 1-24).  And again, like the writer's of the scriptures inform us, God is going to do a new thing.  S/HE, like the narrative of Numbers infers of Caleb, "because he has a different spirit and has followed me wholeheartedly," is calling forth a new socially, culturally, politically, religiously and spiritually conscious generation to take us into the next phase of our journey to the Promised Land (v.24). 

Are we there yet?  No.  Will we get there?  Yes, indeed we shall.  But we cannot and we will not get there, if we continue on the same course.  We must change our collective mind.  We need greater validation and prominence of women Pastors, more legitimacy of out lesbians and gays in the pulpits, theologians of every faith tradition, scholars and social critics, and spiritualist of every persuasion.  Then and only then will we be able to look back over the course of our life and testify in a new way of triumph over tragedy, liberation over persecution, of love over hate and sing a new song about, "How [we] got over!"

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST! 

"I Remember Mama"

You know I never realized how many "special days" there were between December and June.  Without a doubt they have played a major part in the postings of this blog.  Never fear, we will get back to our regularly scheduled blogs regarding the process of Reading the Bible Again for the First Time.  Especially since I have serendipitously learned that so-called bishops (little b), with little to no real theological education or training and who in times past, have showed no respect or regard for such, are now attempting to teach the same.  While I wrestled with continuing with the blog as it is, to God be the glory, for it is more important that the information and truth be revealed through as many avenues as possible to bring God's people to a place of mature and authentic faith and an understanding of that faith than my own human frailties.  So, for those of you following along with us in your reading, be informed that we are now squarely in the book of Numbers.  For now, however, I am compelled to do what many of us are doing or preparing to do, and that is to reflect upon, remember and honor our Mothers.

Since 2009, Mother's Day has been one of the most dreaded days of my life.  I was borne of a woman that was ill equipped and prepared to be a mother.  She was young, wild and loose.  Thankfully, she had a mother that would step in in a way unparalleled by most.  My maternal Grandmother (Mama), like many before her, took on the responsibility for my care, nourishment, protection and shelter.  She showed up in my life when my biological mother had chosen to leave and abandon me.  What's more, she took it a step further and legally adopted me - taking total and complete responsibility for my well-being, safety and security.  In an instant, I went from being an abandoned child to a wanted and cared for child.  She spent the rest of her life making sure that I knew and understood what love was and that I indeed, was loved.  Subsequently, I grew up to be a social, cultural, political, religious and spiritual activist that often times found myself in situations that threatened my life.  And as much as she prepared to care for me in life, in like manner, she equally prepared to care for me in death by keeping life insurance on me until the day she died in the event that she lost me to a just cause.  I, however, was never prepared to be in this world without her.  But, as God would have it, S/HE called Mama to return HOME - leaving me here still.

It took some time, but I'll never forget what it is to be lonely and alone.  I'll never forget being borne of a woman who didn't want me.  I'll never forget the sadness felt watching my birth mother walk out on me time and time again.  But thanks be to God, I'll remember, eternally being chosen by a mother to be her child.  I'll remember, eternally, being held and rocked in the bosom of a woman who represented in tangible ways, God with us.  I was her Ruth and she was my Naomi.  So in honor of my Mama, I confess the same vow, "Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you!  Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.  Where you die, I will die - there will I be buried.  May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you" (Ruth 1: 16,17)!  Rest easy Mama - I love you - eternally. 

"Now mama is sleeping in the bosom of Jesus Christ
Somehow I know she's smiling, she's smiling on us right now
One day I'll see her again, how happy I will be
And I remember mama in a happy way."

                                             (Shirley Caesar)

© Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!

"Strange Fruit"

"Southern trees bear a strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the popular trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh...

For those of you familiar with the song "Strange Fruit," originally written as a poem by Abel Meeropol under the pseudonym Lewis Allen, and sang by the incomparable Billie Holiday, no doubt you are wondering why I would highlight such a polarizing song that arguably has more to do with the social and political climate of the south in 1930 than it does with anything religious or spiritual.  Surely, you're probably thinking that I could have found something more suitable to write about on the most Holiest of Sundays for Christians than a song written about the 1930 lynching of two Black men (Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith in Marion, Indiana).  The truth of the matter is that I can't come up with anything more "Holy" to write about in remembrance of the reported crucifixion of a revolutionary Mediterranean Jewish Peasant  man than this. 

The title of the song bears witness to the regularity of lynchings of Black men across the south.  The act was often preceded by a public scourging with the intent to strike fear in the hearts and minds of any so-called "agitators," or individuals criminalized for the ordinary fact that they were Black, unprotected and/or that they had possibly broken some imaginary Jim Crow Law.  To ensure the message got out to any and all who might decide to challenge the social, cultural, and political power structure of the day, many, if not most of the lynchings took place in select places or on "popular trees" for farther reach and greater impact. The irony of the sweet smell of the magnolia trees, systematically robbed of their true purpose by the bile of hatred that lit the match that would help to create the stench of burning flesh suffocating its leaves and thus the atmosphere, is reminiscent of Mary using the sweet smelling nard to anoint Jesus feet before his impending death.

It is all the more reason that this is the perfect remembrance of  the reason for the season.  If one were to read articles written by theologians and physicians in medical journals exploring the reported events surrounding Jesus' ministry, public scourging and lynching/crucifixion, one would also find striking similarities between this revolutionary man's life and death and that of the lives and deaths for which the song sings about.  Often enslaved Africans were scourged with various instruments - quirt, "cat-o-nine tails," or a flagellum (a leather multi-thong, sometimes having pieces of wood, bone and steel balls attached) - for maximum punishment.  So too, were the reports surrounding the scourging of Jesus of Nazareth.  So too, were the reports for which he was accused - challenging the social, political, cultural, economic, religious and spiritual power structures of the day.  An "agitator," whose message and ministry was so threatening to the status quo, they had to kill him.

As we get all dressed up and gitty over this most "Holy" day, be reminded of the man, the message, the mission and his ministry.  Be reminded of his life and his death.  Do justice, shout aloud, challenge unjust laws.  Question the plethora of social, sexual and racial double standards.  Denounce excess, war, materialism, racism, sexism, homophobia, economic exploitation - and do this in remembrance of them all - Jesus, Martin Luther King, Jr. Mohandas (Mahatma) Gandhi,  Fannie Lou Hamer, Steven Biko and all the other freedom fighters known and unknown!  RIZE UP and BE FREE!

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop."

                                       (Abel Meeropol)

 © Dorinda G. Henry, 2011

THEOLOGIA HABITUS EST!