Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Many in our group had never heard the song. Many were moved to tears. The moment was an arresting example of memory, emotion, and truth telling coming together. It was a moment of lament.
The idea for the bus tour emerged from conversations a year earlier when several racist incidents took place on our university’s campus. In the class I was co-teaching we pondered how our seminary might contribute a theological response to the university community. An unexpected answer came out of those conversations: lament.
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