When the poor ones, who have nothing, still are giving;
when the thirsty pass the cup, water to share;
when the wounded offer others strength and healing:
We see God, here by our side, walking our way;
we see God, here by our side, walking our way.
– José Antonio Oliver, ELW #725
Beloved of God,
In spite of serving as a pastor in the Lutheran Church for 33 years, I had never heard the name Jehu Jones, Jr., until last month. His story, as the first African American to be ordained a Lutheran pastor, is at once an inspiring example of determination against all odds, and “a melancholy and indeed shameful aspect of Lutheran History.”[1]
His father, Jehu Jones, Sr., who had purchased his own freedom from slavery, was a pew owning member of St. Philip’s Protestant Episcopal Church and proprietor of one of the finest hotels in Charleston, South Carolina. A tailor by trade, Jehu Jr. had inherited his father’s name and business. He brought his own children to St. Philip’s for baptism in 1815. But shortly after the Lutheran Church of German Protestants (St. John’s Church) opened its doors to blacks in 1816, Jones and his wife Elizabeth became members. Their subsequent children were baptized there by Pastor John Bachman. In October of 1832, Jones felt a call to be a missionary in Liberia. But he knew that, because of his race, southern Lutherans would not ordain him, so he sought an avenue of service in the North. He arrived in New York City with letter from Pastor Bachman in hand and made contact with Pastor William Strobel, a former member of St. John’s, and after examination was ordained by the Ministerium of New York on October 24, 1832 at the age of 46.
But when Jones returned to his native South Carolina to prepare for the trip to Liberia, he was arrested and jailed under the Negro Seamen’s Act, which forbade any free Negro from reentering South Carolina and directed that free blacks could be jailed or put on the auction block. Appearing before a judge, Jones was told he must spend time in jail or leave immediately. He chose to leave, and after stopping home long enough to say goodbye to his wife and children, the youngest of whom was 3 days old, he departed Charleston for New York. Exiled from his native city and unable to join the group from Charleston about to embark for Liberia, Jones sought another way to reach the colony, but his efforts and those of his supporters were rebuffed and the dream of ministering in Liberia was set aside.
In the spring of 1833, joined by his wife Elizabeth and nine children, he chose Philadelphia as his new home. Arriving there with letters of recommendation, he was discouraged by leading Lutheran clergy from establishing a Lutheran church. “The people will hate you because of your color,” he was told; why not join another communion—such as United Methodists, Presbyterians, or Baptists—who already count pastors of color among their ranks? That, Jones insisted, was not an option; he was Lutheran through and through. And so the establishment of a Lutheran mission to the black citizens of Philadelphia began to take root.
Using his own resources and those acquired through a fundraising tour, he bought land and began building St. Paul’s Church, the first independent African American Lutheran congregation. But when the church encountered financial difficulties, rather than lend them aid, the Ministerium of Pennsylvania took title of the church building and failed to assist its pastor. The New York Ministerium also rejected his appeal for funds, and eventually the building was sold to pay off acquired debts. His subsequent appeal to the Synod of New York for permission and support to establish a Lutheran mission for the black community in New York was not only rejected by the synod, the validity of his ministry itself was called into question and he was unrightfully censored.
The institutional church failed Pastor Jones abysmally. Even after all this, Pastor Jones continued to be faithful in keeping his Philadelphia congregation together without a building and he continued to preach. As late as 1851, at age 65, he could proudly assert, “I continue to preach to the colored congregation of St. Paul Lutheran Church.” In the face of the Lutheran Church’s unfaithfulness to him, Pastor Jehu Jones remained faithful to the gospel. He died September 28, 1852, the victim of prejudice, rejection, and institutional abuse.
In his book, DEAR CHURCH: A LOVE LETTER FROM A BLACK PREACHER TO THE WHITEST DENOMINATION IN THE U.S., ELCA Pastor Lenny Duncan makes an impassioned plea for our church and society at large to acknowledge our captivity to white supremacy. The community Duncan serves in the heart of Brooklyn takes its name from Pastor Jehu Jones; it’s called Jehu’s Table. Duncan’s book, the subject of our Adult Sunday class through this month, is provocative and challenging. And it belongs at the center of discussions about the prevalence of white racism in church and society and in congregational life.
This month, as we celebrate the various ways our congregation has engaged and is engaging in ministries of social outreach, assistance, and advocacy, we remain mindful of the reality that systemic oppressions of all kinds bedevil our culture at every level. The church’s responsibility in the midst of this reality is not only to feed the hungry and bind up the wounded, but to consciously engage and defeat white supremacy and the other demonic forces within us and without that call into question the image of God that resides in every human being.
Jesus’ ministry among those who were marginalized, his model of bringing them into the circle and challenging the forces—both social and spiritual—that supported them, must be our model. The impulse to reach out and serve, as you’ll see in the article by Boots Winterstein below, is embedded in our congregation’s DNA. That’s something to celebrate, even while we remain alert to the continuing work to which God, and siblings in Christ like Pastor Duncan, call us.
[1] Philip Pfatteicher, New Book of Festivals and Commemorations. 2008. Much of what I share here is taken from Pfatteicher’s article on Rev. Jones, an essay in The Lutheran Quarterly, Volume X, 1996 by Karl E. Johnson, Jr. and Joseph E. Romeo, as well as from Lenny Duncan’s book, Dear Church….(Augsburg Fortress, 2019)
What does this mean?