Easter 7C
June 1, 2025
St. Dunstan’s
The Rev. Patricia Templeton
“Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous, and give thanks to God’s holy name.”
That last verse from Psalm 97, which we said today, reminds us that people of faith are always supposed to rejoice and give thanks to God.
Sometimes that is easy to do. Those moments of grace and beauty and joy and justice in our lives or in the world – in those moments it is easy to rejoice and give thanks.
But perhaps the true measure of faith is the ability to rejoice and give thanks in those moments that are not so joyful – in times of fear and illness, of injustice and despair.
We have an example of such a time in our reading from Acts today. Paul and his companion Silas are spreading the gospel into parts of the world that have not yet heard it. They heal a slave girl possessed by demons.
This miraculous act is not met with joy by the slave’s owners, who had been making money off of her ability to foresee the future. Freeing her of demons took away her ability to do that. They seize Paul and Silas and bring them before the authorities.
Soon there is danger of a riot as the crowd attacks the two disciples of Christ. They are beaten with rods, then thrown into jail with chains around their feet.
If ever there were a moment when one could be justified for not rejoicing or giving thanks to God, surely this was it.
But Paul and Silas, beaten and bloody, chained in prison in a foreign land in the pitch dark of midnight do exactly as Psalm 97 instructs people of faith to do. They rejoice and give thanks.
They do so by prayer and by singing hymns.
Commentator Bruce Epperly writes of this passage, “Experientially pain, illness and fear often isolate us from other people and disconnect us from the deeper resources of personal transformation.
“In contrast, prayer is an act of connection. Prayer reminds us that we are part of a relational universe in which we are joined with other Christians and with the Holy One. Prayer is a living affirmation that ‘nothing can separate us from the love of God.’
“Prayer is not denial of the harsh realities of life – of injustice, pain, fear, and death. Rather, prayer puts these in perspective, in which our lives find meaning now and in God’s everlasting life. Prayer discerns an open future when others see a dead end.”
Of course, it is not surprising that Paul and Silas would turn to prayer in such a dire situation. Prayer is often a natural response to times of great need.
What might be surprising in such a situation is turning to song, singing hymns to God in the darkness. Singing in such a situation is in itself a prayer. Paul and Silas sing because they trust in God. And the act of singing raises their spirits and helps to give them courage.
Epperly writes of a friend who traveled to South Africa in the dark days of apartheid. Because African churches were at the heart of the struggle for justice in that country, the pastors were often targets of violence.
As Epperly’s friend attended church one Sunday, he was amazed to see the parishioners walking to the pastor’s home to escort him and his family to church in safety.
While they walked, they sang over and over again, “We are walking in the light of God, we are walking in the light of God.”
In the act of singing they were reminding themselves that as dire as their situation was, that – as Psalm 97 proclaims – “righteousness and justice are the foundations of God’s throne.”
We don’t have to travel around the world to find examples of the courage and faith that singing can bring.
Sixty-four years ago, in the spring and summer of 1961, a courageous coalition of men and women, black and white, boarded buses in Washington DC to ride into the deep South to protest our country’s apartheid.
Although federal law prohibited segregation in bus and train stations, those laws were widely ignored in the South. The Freedom Riders, as they were called, planned to test those laws by ignoring “white” and “colored” signs in bus station waiting rooms and restrooms.
The Freedom Riders’ journey was an act of courage. They knew that they could be killed, and many nearly were. Buses were attacked and set on fire in Alabama, the riders beaten.
Finally they were allowed to continue to Mississippi, the most feared state of all.
When the Freedom Riders stepped off the bus and walked into the whites-only waiting room in the Jackson, Mississippi bus terminal they were immediately arrested and sent to Parchman State Prison Farm, the state’s most notoriously tough prison.
Ross Barnett, the governor of Mississippi, thought this would break the back of the Freedom Rider movement, but he was sorely mistaken. Instead, more and more people answered the call to justice and boarded buses for Mississippi, knowing they would end up in prison.
At one point in the summer of 1961, Parchman was filled with more than 300 Freedom Riders.
Twenty-one year old Carol Ruth Silver was one of them. On the 50th anniversary of the rides she remembered the treatment they received in Parchman and how they responded.
“Prison guards tried to punish the Riders by taking away their basic necessities, like toothbrushes and mattresses, but nothing could break our spirits or stop us from singing,” she said. “We did a lot of singing and they did not like it. Every time they would threaten to do something, we would sing.”
Singing gave the Riders a sense of solidarity, Freedom Ride organizer James Farmer said. “The guards tried to dehumanize us. But there is no armor more impenetrable than song.”
“We sang hymns,” Farmer recalled. “We sang all the old freedom songs we knew and we made up new ones.
“The jailers went wild at our singing. We were singing as loudly as we could, and our voices were wafting out over the city of Jackson. Wing after wing of the prison would pick up the song.
“The jailers would slam our windows shut and we would open them again and sing more and more and more.
“That summer that prison was rocking with freedom songs.”
The singers prevailed. That September the Interstate Commerce Commission issued an order that all Jim Crow signs be removed from all bus and train stations.
Through their courage and songs, the Riders reminded the nation that righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne.
One of my favorite songs is an old Shaker hymn about the power of prayer through singing. It is unfortunately not in our hymnal, but I found the music so that we can sing it today..
The title is “How Can I Keep from Singing?” Here are some of the words.
My life flows on in endless song
Above earth’s lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear it’s music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?
While though the tempest loudly roars,
The Lord, my Savior liveth,
And though the darkness ‘round me close,
Songs in the night he giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock I’m clinging
Since Christ is lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?
When tyrants tremble, sick with fear
And hear their death knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?
Amen.