Facing the Rising Sun | June 29, 2025 | Rev. Dr. Kathryn Benton

Our opening music, written by James Weldon Johnson and his brother Rosamund, highlights the profound struggle of the African American people in this country. Written soon after emancipation as a hymn for Negro people, it remains one of the most profound expressions of Black history in the United States. Without directly speaking of America or the Negro, it has been described as the Black National Anthem.

This song highlights the nature of our existence…although we have been devastated by our history, we will rejoice…all will rejoice…from the west to the east and those lands beyond…giving praise to the all-pervading presence…our creator. Despite this hope…despite this promise, we are still grieving, not only the past but the present. In the context of our current reality…especially when we consider the reversal of the progress we seem to have made. This juxtaposition of the suffering, grieving against the backdrop of rejoicing and praise is overwhelming. In the words of the hymn, beginning with the rejoicing…

Lift every voice and sing

Till earth and heaven ring

Ring with the harmonies of liberty

Let our rejoicing rise

High as the listening skies,

Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

And then…

Stony the road we trod,

Bitter the chast’ning rod,

Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;

What is it like for hope never to be born? How could a person…a people live through such a period? The answer follows:

Yet with a steady beat,

Have not our weary feet

Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.

We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,

Out from the gloomy past,

Till now we stand at last

Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

These words remind us that despite horrendous conditions, people have been able to overcome…or perhaps found the way through…the experience of enslavement, torture, injustice and pain…again and again. This has been accomplished through the experience of prayer and praise…staying close to the Creator and to each other…by singing a new song of hope and resilience…of praise and of lament.

I think I settled on singing this song today because we have experienced the heartbreak and profound sadness of the death of Dr. Dorsey Blake and we are still grieving. On grieving Sobonfu Somé, West African teacher and spiritual leader states:

My earliest memory of deep grieving was when I was a little girl,

about 5 or 6-years old. One of my playmates died. I was so shocked

and confused by the whole business especially when I am told I would never see him in a physical form again. I grieved for a long time and it just wouldn’t stick in my head that my friend had died. Every day I would try to go with the hope to play with him, but he wasn’t there. My community would gently say to me “do you remember that he died?” and they supported me and grieved with me. Although I grieved for a long time, over a year, it was accepted as a normal part of life. I was never asked, “Aren’t you finished grieving yet?” Rather, they would say – “have you grieved enough? Have you cried enough?”

We could ask ourselves, “Have we grieved enough?” Are we finished grieving the loss of Dorsey Blake? In addition to his loving, encouraging presence among us, he was spiritual guide and companion for so many. We mourn his loss and are especially cognizant of it today, the day of our Annual Membership Meeting where we are gathering to review the past year and dream for the next. Yet it is also a time when we are grieving the state of the world…the war and oppression…the suffering and pain…the uncertainty. Have we grieved enough? Or have we grieved at all? Have we rushed on to the work of daily life?

I don’t think we can afford to rush on. Here at Fellowship Church, we are meant to linger with each other…to have contacts with fellowship which serve to undermine the impersonal breeding ground of suspicion and hatred. Therefore, I think we have been able to truly be with the reality of Dr. Blake’s passing…the passing of an era. The time is now for integration of loss and a deep sense of hope for the continuation of this bold and audacious experiment.

Thurman wrote:

I saw a man pursuing the horizon.

Round and round he sped.

I was disturbed at this so I accosted the man.

I said, it is futile. You can never.

You lie, he cried and ran on.

This is the epitome of hope…to pursue the horizon. My own father always told me that he wanted to be able to see the horizon…it somehow freed his spirit…gave him a sense of place…a sense of space…and a sense that all would be well.

Today, as every new day, we are facing this horizon…the horizon of a new year at the church…a year without the physical companionship of Dr. Dorsey Blake…but with his spirit nonetheless. It is a year in which we are being called to be better than the year before, for in the words of Sue Bailey Thurman…there will be no past greater than our future. We are planning for that future today as we gather for our Annual Membership Meeting. This is a time to report on the past year and begin to plan for the next year. We have some help in focusing our energies for this task. For example, Dr. Howard Thurman wrote in the book, Footprints of a Dream the following:

The movement of the Spirit of God in the hearts of men

often calls them to act against the spirit of their times or causes them

to anticipate a spirit which is yet in the making. 

In a moment of dedication, they are given wisdom and courage to dare a deed

that challenges and to kindle a hope that inspires.

This movement is being felt here today among this congregation. We are clearly being called to anticipate a spirit which is yet in the making. This is the spirit of our ancestors here at Fellowship Church and in the broader community that has kindled hope for the future. At this moment of dedication, may we call upon those who had the courage and audacity to begin this experiment called The Church for the Fellowship of All Peoples for guidance as we pray…

God of our weary years,

God of our silent tears,

Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;

Thou who hast by Thy might,

Led us into the light,

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

It is a path…not necessarily a destination. They have indeed been weary years and, at times our tears have been silent, but we have been led into the light of our current moment of crisis and celebration…one in which we can again sing this song.

I want to be clear and respectful…some may think it is not appropriate for people other than African Americans to sing this song or even to derive meaning from it. I understand that and there is certainly validity to it. Still, in this community I feel it is important for us to come closer together, sharing the pain and promise of our collective past and future. We are able, I hope, to have the difficult conversations in which we learn about each other, indeed this is part of our foundational charge, as a community. Listen to the words of our Commitment, recited at every worship service;

I affirm my need for a growing understanding of all peoples as children of God, and I seek after a vital experience of God…

The commitment continues:

I desire to share in the spiritual growth and ethical awareness of people of varied national, cultural, racial and creedal heritage united in a religious fellowship.

This is such a religious fellowship, one in which we consciously seek each other out…our whole selves. May we continue on this path in the year ahead, keeping fresh before us the moment of our high resolve, praying for the peace which surpasses our understanding…a peace with each other and with the earth that allows for grieving and for healing. May this be our intention and purpose in the days ahead.

Amen