Some time ago, at a very low moment, I listened to interview of Bernice Johnson Reagon, founder of Sweet Honey in the Rock, reflecting about an experience in the south during the 1960's. A group of African-Americans had gathered in a church when some white sheriffs walked in, stood against the walls of the room and just watched. Bernice described how the air stiffened, the fear become palpable, the gathered African-Americans shrank into their seats.
She says that the sheriffs had "seized the air".
Then an older woman in one of the front rows began softly humming a hymn. Slowly people began picking up the tune, humming with her. The humming became a song and the music swelled. The fear dissipated. The room was transformed.
The gathered community, she said, had "taken back the air".
What had actually changed in those minutes? Were new equal rights laws passed? Were lunch counters and front seats suddenly available to all? Was the constant presence of disdain, superiority and fear from whites now a thing of the past? Were death and the threat of death vanquished?
No. None of these things had happened.
What happened was "simply" an individual, and then a community, claiming reality. The reality of God's enduring love. The reality of the superior power of God's right hand in the face of evil and death.
We can claim the air. In those times when it seems certain that death is overtaking us, when we seem to be loosing our grasp of hope or emotional equilibrium or spiritual victory in the midst of despair and chaos, we can claim - reclaim - the air.
We begin with a tentative, even fearful, hum. The hum grows into grand, all-embracing, death-defying chorus. It changed that church several decades ago. It has worked wonders in my car as I drive. It can transform our worlds in small and huge ways.
