Worship in the Spirit of Justice

Freedom Plaza, Washington, DC

June 26, 2005

Welcome & Call to Worship by Jack Boeve

Good Afternoon. On behalf of the sponsors of Worship in the Spirit of Justice, I want to extend a warm welcome to each of you and to thank you for your commitment to justice for the people of Darfur, Sudan. You demonstrate your commitment by your presence and your ongoing prayers and action on behalf of the people in that troubled region.

In recent months, like many of you I am sure, I have read with deep interest and profound pain the stories of New York Times reporter Nicholas Kristof as he has brought to our attention gripping accounts of sexual trafficking and bonded labor in Asia and human misery and genocidal conflict in Africa. In one of his many stories from Africa, dated June 5, Kristof tells how he has interviewed survivors of the Darfur genocide. Part of the genocidal campaign that Kristof describes is that of a policy, a campaign, of systematic rape. The land itself and the community fabric of the people are being raped, to be sure, but more specifically, we are talking about the rape of women and girls.

The rapes occur most often when the women and girls daily sneak out of what shelter they have been able to secure in teeming refugee camps and set out in search of firewood for cooking fires. For the most unfortunate, Janjaweed militia hunt them and attack, assaulting them brutally, violently, and repeatedly. Some of the women disappear, never to be seen again. Those who return are often ostracized for life. The risks of H.I.V. are very high. The government has refused access to aid groups so they might bring in medical care to help these victims; those who seek medical care are further harassed and humiliated. Rape victims who become pregnant have been imprisoned by the government on charges of adultery.

Kristoff asks these women and girls why they venture out when the risks of being gang raped are so great. In some of the most chilling and horrific words I have read in some time, one woman replied: “It’s simple. When the men go out, they’re killed. The women are only raped.”

As I stand here today, I cannot imagine the daily experience of choosing between those options. How would I choose? I ask you, how would you choose? As a man, I face the death of my son or a brother--or my own death--or I am confronted with the potential gang rape of a wife, a daughter, a sister. As a woman, I face the death of a husband, son, or brother--or I run the high risk of being horrifically violated along with my female family members. That choice is hell; it is a devil’s choice. It can hardly be called a choice at all. That choice and that situation is one reason why we all are here.

I do not mention awful situations in Sudan to be depressing or to dispel hope. I mention them to ignite righteous anger, to arouse passion for justice, to call us to prayer, and to stir up compassion and generosity to overflowing. I relate all this to guide us in this time of worship. Reflecting on the atrocious realities of life in Sudan is a reminder to us all that worshipping in the Spirit of Justice is a serious activity. It calls for us to engage our minds and bodies. It calls for our full range of emotions. It compels us to open our hearts, both in compassion for others and in reverent worship before the holy God of the universe. Worshipping in the Spirit of Justice demands faith, hope, and love.

Today, we stand at a curious intersection between heaven and earth. We lament and moan on behalf of fellow human beings created in God’s image who suffer such injustice, such inhumane treatment and circumstances. We come together to cry out against gross injustice. And yet we celebrate and worship the loving Creator of the universe, to lift our voices to the one who alone is worthy of our praise. A compassionate God who hears not only our cries and groans, but also a joyous God who hears our songs and laughter. A merciful God who sees our tears and feels our pain, as well as a gracious God who beholds our smiles and knows our pleasure. Our God has opened his eyes and ears both to us here in this place and to the people in Darfur. Moreover, the sovereign arm of God is neither short nor weak. It is indeed strong to save and liberate, to resurrect and give life, to give comfort and healing, to bring about the justice, righteousness, and peace of the kingdom of heaven. We worship, play, work, and rest in faith, believing God is on the throne of the universe as well as here and in Darfur.

Let us pause for a moment of silence now to still ourselves and place ourselves in the presence of God. Let us focus our hearts, souls, and minds upon the God of our salvation and upon our purpose for being here. Let us welcome the Spirit of God in this place, even as the Spirit welcomes us into the presence of the triune God.

Join with me now as we approach God’s throne of grace with this responsive call to worship.

[The service proceeded with an excerpt from the Book of Common Prayer.]