In January 2020, I Enjoyed Lunches in the Dining Hall of St John's Church, the Sacred Space that Went Up in Flames During the George Floyd Protests

Monday, June 1, 2020 at 7:03 AM

Raccoon Groves

Streator Illinois

The White House became a flash point of protest on the last day of May 2020. The public heard that President Donald Trump moved into the bunkers of the mansion for his safety. Many have to wonder if we heard the true story. Why would the president of one of the most powerful nations on earth remain on the grounds of a mansion under siege? 

Could the fence keep out a squad of elite soldiers or a committed mob? The failure of the White House has made the silver screen in Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down. Surely, the Donald knows how to split the scene when the Secret Service posted on the perimeter begins to take casualties. I hope he bailed while he could evacuate easily. Every movement of the president requires the care of a military operation. Maybe we heard a cover story?

Sadly, a second place of refuge for the American President suffered damage on Sunday. St. John’s Church has awaited every American president a short walk away from the White House since the administration of James Madison. During the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln would walk over from the White House to hear the evening sermon at the church on Lafayette Square. He sat in a rear pew, alone and left alone, leaving before the end of service. 

Every Sunday, twice a Sunday, the congregation prays for Donald and Melania, referred to by their first names. Arguably a liberal congregation, one will not hear a negative word said about the 45th president. I attended for four Sundays in a row, and the presidential pew remained open should the President and his wife desired to attend the early or late services. No matter his poll numbers nor his policies, the door remained open in welcome.

The protest around the White House sparked a fire at St. Johns. Set in the basement of the church annex, the fire was quickly suppressed. The video I screened this morning showed the room engulfed in flames. I’m relieved the flames were arrested in time before the entire annex building caught fire. The parlors above it must have been damaged by the smoke, a beautiful room hung with antique oil portraits and decorated in a drawing room style. The Togo West Parlor was always set with chairs Sunday for adult education after the morning service.

The paradox I have wrestled with today exists in that annex. On January 19th, 2020, David Garrow, leading biographer of Martin Luther King Jr., spoke in that auditorium and took questions from the audience. King advocated non-violence as a method for addressing racism and injustice. Garrow has worked diligently to understand King, a man who had transformed the non-violent message of Gandhi for American hearts. 

On that day, he spoke to an audience of Episcopalians, many of whom had worked with time, treasure and talent to heal the racial divide in Washington DC and the nation. Now, violence has made that chamber unusable for an indeterminate time. Why would fire strike at the heart of a building dedicated to understanding the path towards King’s dream? 

Thinking about that church basement saddens me. I enjoyed two splendid lunches in that room. A well-equipped kitchen empowered volunteers to prepare fundraising luncheons. The lunches were served not on paper plates, but on reusable Episcopalian china. I'm sure the plates have broken, antique plates left by a generation before the two world wars.

One lunch explored the possibilities of vegan and organic ingredients purchased from farmers in the Washington DC area. Notes explained the ingredients and recipes; listed sources let us follow up with the farmers. A team manned a table exhibiting all the alternatives to drinking straws and paper plates and plastic shopping bags. I had never dined among such earth-conscious people.

A few guests couldn’t afford the suggested five dollar donation, and no one bothered to ask. Other guests had thrown twenties, fifties and hundreds into the basket. I found the last open seat at a round table with ten guests and we grew acquainted. 

A couple from the suburbs had gone to work in DC a year ago and loved St John's Church enough to take the Metro to the Farragut north station. A man in his eighties charmed us with his conversation, but he spent most of his time talking to a young man, probably a sixth grader. We recognized that the older man was grooming the younger. A long time member of the congregation kept us entertained with stories from the last century at the historical church. All races were present in our circle. Why would I have to tell you which person was which? We broke bread together as family. Why has that good room gone up in flames?

Yes, the Episcopalians will rebuild their kitchen and dining room. Yet, a laboratory of racial understanding has been put out of use for a year and more. We need these liminal spaces where people from all the corners of the globe are welcomed and celebrated even more in the wake of George Floyd’s passing. For now, we have to remember the food we shared together and the ideas we considered among us. We must not forget the hall of fellowship that went up in flames.

Painting of George Floyd by Nada Odeh, Chief Curator of the Museum of the Palestinian People, Washington DC.