Father Pfleger I See, But In Times Like These, Where Is 'The Church'?
Where are those prophetic voices who have not “bowed to Baal?” Has the church become less concerned about speaking God’s truth and more concerned with profits than prophets? Does Trump own them all?
“Over the last five years many religious bodies—Catholic, Protestant and Jewish—have been in the vanguard of the civil rights struggle, and have sought desperately to make the ethical insights of our Judeo-Christian heritage relevant on the question of race. But the church as a whole has been all too negligent on the question of civil rights.” –Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community”
By John W. Fountain
I stand on 78th Place amid the crowd of protestors and the throng of media as an upside-down flag ascends into the boisterous sky—a sign of a nation in distress—amid prayers and a prophetic call by Father Michael L. Pfleger to stand. To resist. To never give up.
I stand here, in the shadow of the Faith Community of St. Sabina, where as a reporter for many years now I have walked with them on summer Friday evening marches to save the soul of a violent city, or to shut down the Dan Ryan Expressway. I have climbed aboard a coach bus on this South Side street to travel with Father Pfleger and St. Sabina to protest in the nation’s Capital to end gun violence.
And inside this English Gothic sanctuary, I have chronicled St. Sabina’s effort, led by its senior pastor, to feed and clothe the poor and homeless. I have captured the last goodbyes and mothers’ salty tears for another slain boy or girl prematurely departed from this world.
I stand here today, however, never more struck by the absence of other pastors—in a vast cauldron of pastoral leaders and preachers across this city. A city so saturated by a sea of churches of every denomination and yet seemingly so impotent—at least too often invisible in the fight—against the issues that continue to stymie Black progress and plague Black neighborhoods.
In times like these, where is the church?
I cannot help but wonder why the scene outside St. Sabina or some similar visible protests, are not being widely repeated at churches from the ghetto to the meadow, from stained-glass sanctuaries to storefronts. Or why there are not more voices crying out in the wilderness given the policies of the Trump administration that threaten to take us back to a pre-Civil Rights era, decimating years of the progress that has been made.
Where are the prophets—those crying out unceasingly for the poor, for righteousness and justice, and preaching against hate, racism and bigotry?
Where are those prophetic voices who have not “bowed to Baal?” Has the church become less concerned about speaking God’s truth and instead more concerned with profits than true prophets? Or does Trump own them all?
Why is it that for us Black folks in this city of DuSable that the most consistent, courageous and authentic voice from the Black church, speaking unapologetically on our behalf for freedom, justice, equality and uplift is a white Catholic priest?
Perhaps it is a question best posed to pastors. But this much I know: Their silence—on so many social issues and the condition of our people—is deafening.
Perhaps that is why I am so moved by Pfleger’s steadfast commitment to speak truth to power, even after all these years and amid an untold cost. Even in the face of animus, threatening, hate and opposition. (And that’s just from “the church.”)
I am troubled by the signs of the times. Not just the manifested attack of President Donald J. Trump’s administration against Black history and DEI and the clear attempt to take us back and “Make America Great Again”—which in Black folks’ estimation can only mean back to a time of slavery, Jim Crowism and racial terrorism when lynchings were America’s untelevised sport.
Not just the mass firings of federal workers, Trump’s demonizing of Haitians, Africans, Venezuelans, and his treatment of Mexican immigrants as criminal, or other policies and actions that have placed the stability and livelihoods of thousands of Americans in jeopardy.
I am troubled, not just by the twisted facts about the war in Ukraine and who started it or by Trump’s hedging on continued American support. Not just by the genocide in Gaza and Trump’s insensitive, inappropriate and inhumane proposal to “develop the war-devastated Gaza Strip into a Riviera replete with luxury casinos and resort.”
I am most troubled by the silence of so-called men and women of God. By the laryngitis of the Christian church in America. By the large absence of unadulterated, unbought and uncompromised voices that might cause the church—as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote—to "recapture its prophetic zeal” and reawaken the church from her current stupor, having become “an irrelevant social club “without moral or spiritual authority.”
Fact is the Black church in Chicago in 1966 was mostly unwelcoming to Dr. King after Mayor Richard J. Daley warned black preachers not to allow the traveling rabble-rouser to speak from their pulpits or else face repercussions. The Reverend Clay Evans, however, did not succumb to Daley’s intimidation and invited Dr. King to preach at Fellowship Missionary Baptist Church. Historical accounts show that Evans’ punishment—sanctioned by Mayor Daley—was an eight-year delay to build a new church. Evans chose truth, community, and love amidst hate. So has Father Pfleger.
And yet, I see—amid the winds of hate blowing cold across America—a mostly invisible and impotent church whose foundation rests upon the blood and sacrifice of a savior whose heart is wed to righteousness, to justice, service, uplift and truth. A savior—Jesus Christ—who embraces the least of these, the widow, the orphan, the poor. Who spoke truth to power amid the venom and hatred that eventually got him crucified.
Dr. King could speak about the dangers of ruffling feathers. About betrayal, threatening and the agonizing burden of servant leadership. About the wincing pain and mental anguish of carrying a weight that sometimes seems too hard to bear. About the loneliness that can grip one’s soul, even when surrounded by a crowd, the tears shed in solitude. About those who secretly lay in wait for the chance to destroy you. Those who would be incensed over the raising of a flag upside down even in protest to symbolize a nation in distress.
I said as much to someone after Monday’s rally outside St. Sabina, explaining that those same people who might be angered by Pfleger’s actions would not be as hot and bothered that the same flag for which African Americans had fought and died in wars still did not symbolize for them liberty and justice once they returned home and that white racists lynched returning Black WWI and WWII soldiers, some in their uniform.
I explained that America was built on the backs and blood of Black slaves for 250 years. That Black men, women and children were lynched by flag-endearing patriots. That systemic oppression and racial discrimination in America still prevail. And that amidst all of this, we now face new threats under the current administration.
I explained that the star-spangled banner is just a symbol—not human. Not heart, blood or soul. So rather than getting so upset about an act of protest for the greater good of us all, maybe they should give more of a damn about humanity than a symbolic cloth that for so many of us speaks more to America’s hypocrisy than her promise as the home of the brave and the land of the free.
But I digress.
Dr. King once wrote of the church: “It has too often blessed a status quo that needed to be blasted, and reassured a social order that needed to be reformed. So the church must acknowledge its guilt, its weak and vacillating witness, its all too frequent failure to obey the call to servanthood. Today the judgment of God is upon the church for its failure to be true to its mission.”
Fifty-eight years since Dr. King penned those words in, “Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community,” published in 1967, not much has changed.
And yet, Father Pfleger, who, as a young man, marched with Dr. King, at 75 now, is still standing, still fighting, still crying uncompromisingly in the wilderness. We need him now more than ever.
I stand on 78th Place in awe of him and his service and commitment. Indeed I stand with Father Pfleger and in prayer for his strength and continued faith. In prayer for the Lord’s constant fence of protection around him, even from those wolves in sheep’s clothing who desire to devour him.
I stand in prayer for peace for my dear friend and brother. And for God’s grace and mercy for us all amid the winds now blowing cold across a nation in distress.
Email: Author@johnwfountain.com
