While walking up the sidewalk leading into Holy Name Church in East Nashville the other night, a homeless man who recognized me from working at the Campus asked me if I knew where he could find dinner that night since he got off work too late to get into the Mission. Though I knew there was probably nobody left serving dinner to the homeless at almost 7:00pm, I felt a little bad that I didn’t know who else served dinner other than the Mission on Tuesday nights, and that I am not a great humanitarian like our site coordinator Susan who would have had a “Where to Find Help in Nashville” brochure and a granola bar handy.
Inside, people were gathering for an evening service of prayer for and solidarity with a man convicted of killing a Memphis police officer over 25 years ago. It was Philip Workman’s final night; he was executed at 1:38 a.m. that night at the Riverbend Maximum Security Prison in West Nashville. I was invited by Stacy Rector, our former associate pastor at Second who is now the executive director of TCASK (Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killing), to play the piano for the service at Holy Name. There were about sixty people present whose faith calls them to oppose killing by the state. I recognized many people among those assembled as Second members, volunteers and staff from the Campus and others I’ve seen at similar events.
The second preacher for the night, following Stacy, was Rev. Victor Singletary from First Baptist Church-Capitol Hill. I only knew of that church because they are on the list of places where people can go to get clothing if they need it. His message was a direct challenge to the Christian majority in our culture that is virtually silent on he types of social issues about which Jesus spoke. He talked about a woman from his own church who had received an email from him earlier in the week with an action alert from TCASK and an invitation to the prayer service on the eve of the Workman execution. She called the church the next day asking that her name be removed from the email list that sent messages like that, but she did request that she continue to receive notices about upcoming church events, teas, and social events. The woman from Rev. Singletary’s church is just one part of our broken Christian culture that has no use for the least of these among us. The call of the church is to become like Christ, who always used his voice to speak for those who were not allowed to use theirs. As Matthew 25 states, it is our duty to, together as the church, feed the hungry, quench the tongues of those who thirst, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit those in prison. We are to pray for our enemies, rather than kill them, which was the message recently in a popular Terre Haute church. Christians have failed to vocally oppose war, the death penalty, and reforms of welfare that left many poor families to fend for themselves. It is our calling to not remain silent.
I don’t know whether or not Philip Workman killed a police officer. Even if he did, how does his life not fall under the category of being precious in the sight of God? Loving our enemies sometimes means siding with those who have done horrifying things.
In a strange twist to the end of Philip Workman’s story, the homeless ended up having more to eat that night. Workman requested for his last meal to be a vegetarian pizza delivered to a homeless person. Though the prison system denied that request, other people from around the country ordered hundreds of pizzas in Philip Workman’s name and had them delivered to places like the Nashville Rescue Mission and the Oasis Center. Even from our culture’s group mentality of vengeance and death can come mercy and food for the sustenance of life.
Inside, people were gathering for an evening service of prayer for and solidarity with a man convicted of killing a Memphis police officer over 25 years ago. It was Philip Workman’s final night; he was executed at 1:38 a.m. that night at the Riverbend Maximum Security Prison in West Nashville. I was invited by Stacy Rector, our former associate pastor at Second who is now the executive director of TCASK (Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killing), to play the piano for the service at Holy Name. There were about sixty people present whose faith calls them to oppose killing by the state. I recognized many people among those assembled as Second members, volunteers and staff from the Campus and others I’ve seen at similar events.
The second preacher for the night, following Stacy, was Rev. Victor Singletary from First Baptist Church-Capitol Hill. I only knew of that church because they are on the list of places where people can go to get clothing if they need it. His message was a direct challenge to the Christian majority in our culture that is virtually silent on he types of social issues about which Jesus spoke. He talked about a woman from his own church who had received an email from him earlier in the week with an action alert from TCASK and an invitation to the prayer service on the eve of the Workman execution. She called the church the next day asking that her name be removed from the email list that sent messages like that, but she did request that she continue to receive notices about upcoming church events, teas, and social events. The woman from Rev. Singletary’s church is just one part of our broken Christian culture that has no use for the least of these among us. The call of the church is to become like Christ, who always used his voice to speak for those who were not allowed to use theirs. As Matthew 25 states, it is our duty to, together as the church, feed the hungry, quench the tongues of those who thirst, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit those in prison. We are to pray for our enemies, rather than kill them, which was the message recently in a popular Terre Haute church. Christians have failed to vocally oppose war, the death penalty, and reforms of welfare that left many poor families to fend for themselves. It is our calling to not remain silent.
I don’t know whether or not Philip Workman killed a police officer. Even if he did, how does his life not fall under the category of being precious in the sight of God? Loving our enemies sometimes means siding with those who have done horrifying things.
In a strange twist to the end of Philip Workman’s story, the homeless ended up having more to eat that night. Workman requested for his last meal to be a vegetarian pizza delivered to a homeless person. Though the prison system denied that request, other people from around the country ordered hundreds of pizzas in Philip Workman’s name and had them delivered to places like the Nashville Rescue Mission and the Oasis Center. Even from our culture’s group mentality of vengeance and death can come mercy and food for the sustenance of life.
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