What Must I Do to be Saved
By Rev. Aubra Love
Sermon delivered at the Silent March and Candlelight Vigil, Downtown Decatur, GA, October 8, 1998.
Women’s Resource Center to End Domestic Violence

We are one in the Spirit, We are one in the blood
We are one in the Spirit, We are one in the blood
And we pray that our unity will one day be restored
And we’ll know we are sisters by our love, by our love
And we’ll know we are sisters by our love. ¹

Good evening, all you sisters of various traditions, experiences, values and beliefs. This evening in our time together, I want to talk with you a little bit about the complexities of what it means to be totally committed to our liberation. What it means to love our freedom more than life itself.

Today as we gather to observe, reflect and give honor to those sisters who loved themselves some freedom so much that they risked their lives to be free, I want to acknowledge the Women’s Resource Center for the justice-making work that they do. And to thank you for asking me to do this. I have been known to gather with other sisters and "take back the night," but my understanding is that this is more solemn. And when I was invited to speak, the coordinator called me Rev. Aubra Love, she didn’t call me Imam Aubra Love nor did she call me the Rabbi Aubra Love. She asked me, a United Church of Christ pastor, to come and address this candlelight vigil. So, I want to acknowledge that I know that some of you maybe haven’t been to church in twenty years for varied and sundried painful or political reasons. I know a few of you may have never been to church in your life. And I know many of you are from traditions that do not encompass that Afro-Christian, Womanist consciousness. So, I come to bring you some of what you have been missing.

To my sisters of the Islamic faith, to my Jewish sisters, Buddhists and all women of faith – I have tried to take the burden of translation off of you as the hearer, but if I became preoccupied with that, I wouldn’t be able to say what I came to say. And I am determined that we are going to talk about this stuff on our most sincere level, which may include some unintentional slights but surely nothing that will distract us from attaining our collective freedom. So stay with me and listen for the word of God.

As I was approaching this moment, it occurred to me that to speak at a candlelight vigil is a lot like doing someone’s eulogy. Only this is a mass eulogy of many women that many of us don’t know. This is sort of like when the bereaved family approaches the clergy to speak a few words in the chapel of the mortuary about the life of someone whom we have never met or never had a chance to get to know. Sometimes, the deceased in these cases is a person without close familial ties or without friends. Sometimes the person has led a transitional life due to alcohol or drugs – or simply unjust poverty, never getting an even break. Maybe the person was just isolated due to illness and most of their friends have slowly faded from their life. And whoever is responsible for seeing that this person’s characteristics and attributes are lifted up in this final celebration of their life will ask a minister to say a few words about this person. Now, my grandfather never refused a bereaved family and he eulogized many such persons. He was never at a loss for what to say, as he began with, "I didn’t know Nathaniel Roy – but the Lord knew him. And from what I can make out from what folks tell me about him, his life was often wrought with persecution and he didn’t get nearly what he deserved in this life."

Sisters, I want to start right there. I am thinking about all of those women who have been slain in domestic violence-related incidents, since time began. And I want you to just hold these sacred women in your hearts and receive some healing for yourselves as we are gathered together this evening. Most of these slain women, I didn’t know, but the Lord knew them. And from what I can make out from what folks tell me about them, their lives were often wrought with persecution and they didn’t get nearly what they deserved in this life.

Research over the last ten years indicates that women who leave their batterers are at a 75% greater risk of being killed by the batterer than those who stay. Our popular statistics state that nine out of ten of these murdered women are murdered by men. Four out of five women are murdered at home. Additionally, 75% of all murdered women are murdered by husbands or lovers. And finally, abusive men who kill their partners serve an average of two to six year prison terms. From all that folk say about them, these slain women were the ones who were trying to get away. Those who kept trying to live free.

I chose a text for us this evening. You don’t have to be religious to get in on this. Our scripture lesson, for this evening, is taken from the book of Mark 10:17-26. It is a conversation between Jesus and a person seeking some counsel on what to do in order to live forever. This person has led a principled and disciplined life, but has now come to ask what else is necessary to preserve his life.

I was taught this lesson as I was nurtured in the Christian faith; and this was called the parable of the rich, young ruler. It is interesting to note that none of the synoptic gospels describe this person as a "rich, young ruler." Matthew (19:16-22) refers to him as a young man. The gospel according to Luke (18:18-30) states very clearly that a certain ruler asked this question of Jesus. And Brother Mark (10:17-26) on the other hand, says that "one came running and knelt before Jesus," asking, "What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life." These are the accounts of the witnesses who attest to how this interaction went down between Jesus and the one who needed counsel on what to do in order to stay alive. The gospel accounts don’t agree on the details. Matthew says the person just came and asked Jesus. While Luke says this person simply asked the question, Mark’s gospel is the only one that tells us that Jesus looked at him and loved him before responding. Mark’s gospel tells us that the person came running and was soon on his knees. I am reminded of the accounts of witnesses attempting to reconstruct the incidents surrounding the demise of those women who are murdered while diligently asking, "What must I do to live?" Some of us can remember them coming and asking for help. Some of us can recall that they came running and kneeling and crawling. Did you look at them and love them before responding?

Some of them came to us and said, "I own my own home. He just lives there. If someone could sell my home and my car and allow me to keep my whereabouts confidential for six months – I could figure out what else to do. I have no cash money but I have assets. What must I do to live?" And we told her that we could maybe get her a special provision on a Section 8 certificate within 90 days, but she could only stay in our shelter for 30 of those days. And while she was in transition from house to house, her assailant convinced her friends that if they would just butt out, the two of them could work out their problems. And after he choked the life from her, her children became the financial responsibility of the state because her car had been repossessed and her home had been foreclosed on while she was hiding and trying to save her life. We say domestic violence occurs with women regardless of social status or income, but we don’t really believe it or we would advocate with more of a sense of entitlement for those whom we are acting on behalf of. We would insist that the continuum of care for domestic violence survivors looked more like our own lives look – with homes, cars, recreation and medical care.

Some of them came to us crying, "I need a place to stay for a few days. If I could get a full night’s sleep, I could figure out what else to do. I am running with my 16 year-old son, who has been threatened by my husband. What must we do to live?" And we told her that we don’t shelter males over twelve years old. And she spent the night in her car with her son and her assailant found them. And her young son, who could not defend her, put up enough of a fight to get six years in prison, before she was murdered.

And we responded by telling her that emergency food stamps were available at social services – who in turn told her that in order to access any of this assistance, she needed a permanent address to prove residency in this county.

And someone on the street told this woman about a restaurant that served homeless people and offered them rehabilitative services. And she tracked them down, only to learn that their program was only for men. But she could go directly to the food bank or community pantry. And she went there to get assistance and one of the retired volunteers offered her a place to stay in this home, if she would just let him… (You know the rest of the proposition).

Each of the gospel accounts are fairly consistent on how Jesus answered this question of, “What must I do to live?” The first answer instructs this person who wants to live to be obedient to the law and the prophets. Jesus reminds him that he knows the rules, "Do not commit adultery. Do not murder. Do not steal…etc., and the list goes on." But this person who was trying to preserve his life had to let Jesus know that he had obeyed all of this stuff from the time he was a child.

The rich, young ruler pressed Jesus further. And Jesus responds by telling him that there is one thing missing. Jesus tells the rich, young ruler to give up his possessions – to sell what he has and give to the poor – and to take up his cross and follow. But this was not what the petitioner wanted to hear because he had great possessions and he went away sorrowful, saddened by this word. He could not grasp this concept of letting go of his material wealth to preserve his life. And women of God, I tell you that this is a hard teaching – but this is not unlike the answer that we, in this movement, offer to women who are fleeing domestic violence.

These women have kept the rules so well that people have accused them of an intolerable level of neurosis. They search for what good thing they can possibly do to change the behavior of the abusive force in their lives. And as painful as it is, we, the advocates and other helpers, can only say, "If you want to live, you have to give up everything and take up your issues and follow wise counsel." I have heard people in the field say, "it’s not my place to tell a woman to leave her partner." Why not? In every other skill or profession, we offer some prognosis, or an experienced assessment of the situation. Doctors say, "If you keep eating donuts, you will eventually suffer a heart attack or stroke." Plumbers tell us, "If you don’t replace this line, you will eventually have sewage in your living room." We must be committed enough to our liberation to tell another sister, "If you don’t effectively remove yourself from that situation, you will be killed." I’m ready to tell the truth, as I know it. "If you want to live, you must pursue only that for a while. You must be only about your freedom. You must love your liberation more than you love this current life."

This is a high, spiritual concept that translates well into any faith or set of beliefs. In spirit and in truth, if you want to live, you must renounce the entrapments that distract you from your freedom. The sanctity of marriage is not more important than the sanctity of life.

I am ready to see our movement grow up! Finally, sisters in faith, I’m going to tell you what time it is. In this current wave, we are a movement that is at least twenty-five years old, isn’t it time to abandon some of this caution and pretense? This is the place in the Black Power Movement when Malcolm declared, "By any means necessary!" Oh, this is rather like the point in the Civil Rights Movement where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. so bluntly declared that "if you have not found something worth dying for, you are not fit to live." I’m telling you what time it is. This is the place in the second wave of feminism where the honorable Gloria Steinem said, "You may as well be a feminist, because the only other choice is to be a masochist." This is the very place where Sojourner Truth thought it was time for women to vote and Black folk to be free – when she asked the prophetic question "Ain’t I a Woman?" Hallelujah?

I am sorry that the women’s movement has had to carry this burden alone for so long without any systemic support. We tried hard but we couldn’t stop their batterers; we conducted batterer treatment programs; we supported programs for children in transition; we wrote proposals and awarded grants. We marched, we preached and we prayed! We did what we could – but in some cases, our best was just not quite enough.

And, for you brothers in this struggle, who have come out tonight – I want to share a quick story to illustrate how you can be most helpful in this movement. I was at a Waffle House in the mountains of North Carolina, which is known for its ultraconservative views on women’s rights. (This is where Eric Rudolph, accused of the Birmingham abortion clinic bombing, is alleged to be hiding.) I saw a female server being harassed by a male customer in this restaurant full of truckers. The irate customer yelled at her that he was from South Carolina and "down there, a man is allowed to beat a woman if he uses a stick not thicker than her arm." One of the truckers, in a checkered flannel shirt and work boots rose from his booth with, "And over here in the mountains, we got a law that says we can kick a fool’s ass, just so long as we don’t kill him." The rowdy one left and we all continued our breakfast in peace and tranquility. Brothers, we appreciate your help when you take on men who bully women. We don’t need you tell us how much you hate battering… tell the batterers!

In our parable, Jesus finally responds to the disciples who want to know who then can be saved, if the very rich cannot. Jesus makes the answer clearer by assuring them that this is not about one’s social class in this society but about the value of freedom, which we can only learn by placing it above anything else in this material world. Jesus concludes by saying that “there is no one who has left houses or parents or brothers or children for the sake of their most sacred convictions, who shall not receive many times more in this present age and in the age to come, eternal life."

We have been required, as a movement, to think outside the familiar, and rig up solutions to save the lives of women and children who suffer through intimate relationship violence. But like the rich, young ruler who left the conversation disappointed that the expectation was that he would forsake all that was important to him, women who are battered are wanting us to come up with some different answers. They are not asking us spiritual questions when they say they want a safe place to stay. There’s nothing otherworldly about the need for medical attention. There is not a thing mystical about the need for supportive employers, who use their influence to make her safe rather than firing her because she cries at work.

Tonight we gather to remember and honor those prisoners who loved their freedom enough to run right into eternity.² Those prisoners who are now free, who left home, and all that was familiar in the quest for personal freedom. We claim and honor these slain women as the foot soldiers of this movement to end domestic violence. We remember the MIAs and KIAs. We carry on the proud legacy of those who loved their freedom more than possessions or status. Those to whom freedom was more important than this life. How happy are the sisters above who once were sorry here!
O-oh freedom, o-oh freedom, o-oh freedom over me. And before I’d be a slave I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.