It was early in the year 1839 when Joseph Cinque was captured and sold into slavery. It was, of course, illegal in 1839 to transport slaves from Africa, and had been for nearly 20 years, but slave ships were still often able to leave Sierra Leone under cover of darkness and make it to the Caribbean and the United States. Like so many before him, he was chained to his neighbor and forced to make the three-month “Middle Passage,” with only an above average chance of even surviving.
In June, Cinque’s ship made it to Havana, where he was sold and destined for the eastern part of Cuba. Along with 54 other slaves, he boarded the ship Amistad, and they set off for their final destination. But a few days into the voyage, something different happened. Cinque was able to rally the other slaves on board. They revolted. They killed most of the crew. Only the two slave owners Montes and Ruiz and a few incidental crew were left alive. You see, none of the Africans knew how to sail a ship, let alone get it back to Africa. So they made a deal with their captors. Head east, and we’ll let you live.
But freedom from the slavery imposed by bad man is not always so easy to obtain. By day, the now-captive crew complied with orders. After all, everybody knew where the sun rose was where home was. But at night, they would backtrack and sail north, hoping to reach the United States – the United States where owning slaves was still legal, and where a fugitive slave could be returned.
For nearly two months this charade continued, until at last, on August 25th, running low on food and water – the Amistad had no choice but to pull near towards New York, in order to take on supplies. Within sight of the harbor, two greedy sailors commandeered the ship and sailed it into the harbor at New Haven, CT, whereupon they demanded what is called ‘right of salvage.’ In other words, they said, ‘we found this ship and we saved it. We want to sell it for all its worth and keep the money.’ And selling it for all its worth meant selling Joseph Cinque and every other black man on board back into slavery once more.
These are the beginning details of a case that lasted more than 3 years. In time, this case would threaten to break the North from the South, Spain from the U.S., and man from man. Freedom never comes easy, it rarely comes quickly, and it doesn’t always come from the actions you think it might.
This morning, as we continue our series “My Deliverer is Coming,” I want to pause and ponder a few words from Exodus. Last week, we saw what it meant to choose slavery – to willingly enter into bondage, because of simple needs and no options.
In our daily lives, we enter into slavery regularly. We choose options that leave us without a choice. At heart, that’s what slavery is – a lack of choice. Whether its addictions or hatred or any sin that compels us to do that which we would not want, sin is a slavery that sneaks in like a snake, and bites where it hurts us most.
When it strikes, we’re powerless. We are stuck. We have no options. And I don’t know about you, but that’s not where I want to be.
But here’s the good news. We have a Deliverer who wants us to be free. We have an advocate – someone who will stand up for us and demand our freedom. We don’t have to be slaves forever. There is always an option. But the Deliverer has to get involved. If I may continue …
The Africans on the Amistad were in a bind. Legally, the fundamental question was this: Were these escaped slaves who had killed the crew, or men who had engaged in legitimate self-defense to protect what freedoms they had. That question was not going to be solved quickly.
As soon as the newspapers got hold of the story, you can imagine what happened next. A vast assortment of people gathered around these Africans. Some just tried to make money by ‘exhibiting them’ for half a quarter a pop. Others sought to free them by any means possible. And, by the grace of God, some even simply attended to their basic needs, giving them food, water, and Bibles. Indeed, several of the men became Christians throughout this ordeal. But their legal freedoms were still in doubt.
The first draw seemed ominous. The judge to hear the case was an anti-Black judge by the name of Andrew Judson. He had made a name for himself prosecuting those who tried to teach blacks how to read and write. He was certainly not the judge the Africans would have wanted.
When Judson also agreed that indeed, the ship had been taken offshore – and thus not subject to American law – things looked even worse. It seemed as though the only option was to give the slaves back to their owners.
But to Judson’s credit, he was willing to look at the bigger picture. The slave owners had papers saying these Africans were actually native Cuban slaves, not illegally exported Africans. It was a bald-faced lie, and everyone knew it. But some people would argue, ‘Who was the U.S. to get involved?’ After all, it wasn’t their case.
That didn’t sit right with Judson. A lie is a lie. There comes a time when you have to call them on it. And so he did. He made the ruling that these Africans had, in fact, been illegally taken from their homeland in the first place. Their freedom had been illegally taken. Their freedom should be legally restored.
But, oh were it that simple. You see, by this time it was no longer about men. Nations had gotten involved. Spain demanded return of her ‘property.’ They did want to see an end to their profits, and this was a dangerous precedent. Joining forces with the Secretary of State – a man from pre-Civil War Georgia – they demanded that President Martin Van Buren return the ship and the slaves to them.
The case was appealed. Once again, it seemed as though there was no hope.
A group of abolitionists got together and realized that the only way these men would be freed was if their story could be told. You see, in all of this, there was only the most basic exchange of information. The translator only knew bits and pieces. There was no way the Africans could tell story. There was simply no one who could tell it.
So, a Professor of Theology at Yale had an idea. He learned to speak these African’s native language. Well, he learned to count from 1 to 10. And then, he went back to the docks at New York and just started crying out. That’s how he met James Covey.
James Covey had been slave in the same region those on the Amistad. He had been freed by the British, and chose to stay with them. When he heard the plight of his countrymen, he decided to help. He would tell their story for them. He literally gave voice to the voiceless.
It was Cinque’s powerful testimony, translated by Covey that convinced the appeals court that indeed, these men were by right free. But one obstacle still remained. Ultimately, the Supreme Court had agreed to hear the case, and there was no way a group of Black men would ever be allowed to address them. Yet again, a witness was needed.
Enter if you will, an old man, a simple Congressman from Massachusetts. He was old. He was in frail health. He hadn’t argued a case in front of the court for over 30 years. But everyone knew he was the man for the job. You see, this petty little congressman was also an ex-President – John Quincy Adams. For four days in 1842, another lawyer passionately argued the details of the case. But in closing, the beleaguered ex-President rose to the African’s defense.
“A decision to return these human beings as property would well suit two nations of cannibals,” he proclaimed. To view these men as slaves was to denigrate ourselves. Of course we had to step in. That’s what an advocate does.
It took more than three years, but finally on November 27, 1841, the Amistad was sent back to Africa. By the time it returned, Cinque’s wife and children had been killed, and his village was wiped out by disease. Incalculable suffering had been imposed on this man, but at least he was free. All because someone had heard his cry, and chosen to do something about it.
My friends, fundamentally, we can and should get involved. Where would Joseph Cinque be if nobody had gotten involved?
I know that the world wants to tell you, ‘Don’t you impose your religion on me!’ and I’m not telling you to go out and set up some state to enforce it.
But I am telling you this. Our faith is fundamentally one of freedom. It is fundamentally about liberating those who trapped in sin. And I won’t apologize for getting involved when someone is trapped.
What we do we do out of love. We obey because we love Jesus. We love Jesus because he loved us. He loved us so much that he freed us from the bonds of our sin. We need to love others enough to say that they can be freed too.
It’s Star Trek that likes to teach us the Prime Directive – “Just leave me alone.” The Prime Directive seems to be the only rule that our society is hell-bent on keeping today. But tell me, where’s the love in that? To a man in the chains of sin, ‘leave me alone’ isn’t an option. Non-interference means being a part of the system that ties him down.
If we love, we will hear the cry.
But my friends, I have even better news for you. Someone far greater than us has already heard the cry. He has gotten involved. He waits, not for us to do his will, but to give us the chance be a part of it if we choose.
You know, I could tell you that slavery still exists in Africa. Just two weeks ago, 65 men, women, and child, being smuggled from Ethiopia into Yemen to be sold as slaves were simply tossed overboard. Human trafficking in children is rampant. We could and should choose to get involved when we hear of these atrocities.
But my friends, at the root of all of this is something even more simple. Sin. Selling our brothers for money is just one form of taking away all his options. We all need freedom. We all need a Deliverer. And guess what? We all have an advocate arguing on our behalf. This advocate isn’t a professor of theology or a freed slave or even a former President. Our Advocate is the very son of God – the ultimate judge who can and will set us free. He’s already gotten involved. Thank God, he heard our cry.
Would you pray with me?
Long Branch Baptist Church
Halfway, Virginia; est. 1786
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Enter to Worship
Prelude David Witt
Invocation Psalm 13
*Opening Hymn #1
“Holy, Holy, Holy”
Welcome & Announcements
Morning Prayer
*Responsive Reading [See Right]
*Offertory Hymn #335
“Standing on the Promises”
Offertory Mr. Witt
*Doxology
Scripture Exodus 2:23-25; 3-7
Sermon
“He Heard Our Cry”
Invitation Hymn #334
“Blessed Assurance”
Benediction
Congregational Response
May the grace of Christ of Savior / And the Father’s boundless love
With the Holy Spirit’s favor / Rest upon us from above. Amen.
* Congregation, please stand.
Depart To Serve
RESPONSIVE READING
So then, with my mind I am a slave to the law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the law of sin.
Give ear to my words, O LORD; give heed to my sighing.
I do not understand my own actions.
For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.
I find this law at work, that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand.
For we know that the law is spiritual; but I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin.
But I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.
Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Listen to the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to you I pray.
O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.
Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear.
But do not ignore this one fact, beloved,
that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.
The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.
O that my words were written down! O that they were inscribed in a book! O that with an iron pen and with lead they were engraved on a rock forever!
But I know that my Redeemer lives; and after my skin has been destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God,
Even now, in fact, my witness is in heaven, and he that vouches for me is on high.
-Romans 6:14-26 2 Pet 3:8-9; Job 19:23-26, 16:19
