Rev. Jehu Jones: The First Black Lutheran Pastor

In 2019, our ELCA Churchwide Assembly voted to approve a memorial designating the ELCA as a sanctuary church. The initial memorial was centered around a discussion of how the ELCA could live out our Christian mandate to love our neighbors and be a hospitable denomination for immigrants. The designation was a public declaration by the ELCA to walk alongside immigrants and refugees as a matter of faith. [1]

What became clear was that while the word “sanctuary” had specific meaning in the immigrant and refugee community, sanctuary also carried different meanings based upon one’s context. The core message behind the designation was about being a welcoming church. Space was provided for future discernment of the larger context of sanctuary. Congregations and synods were also encouraged to contextualize the meaning of sanctuary. The designation did not mean that the ELCA was authorizing congregations to break the law, or that all congregations would be mandated to engage in immigrant and refugee ministry.

To provide some guidance, Bishop Kurt Kusserow wrote a letter to members of our synod sharing how he understood sanctuary. In his letter, Bishop Kusserow reminded us that the more common designation of sanctuary was the space in which we worship. Within these holy spaces of worship (i.e. sanctuary), we strive for our best behavior as a church because “we respect our neighbors, who are truly God’s sanctuary, and to confess that we share that holy space with them.” [2] Bishop Kusserow went on to say that “respect for others means being attentive enough to notice if my behavior may cause my neighbor harm.” [3]

Acknowledging sanctuary in its broader meaning is a helpful framework for reflecting on what we have endured in 2020. As a nation, as a church, as a people we have navigated the effects of Covid-19. This public health crisis brought to the forefront the many other ways in which we as a nation have been remiss in caring for our neighbors. We saw higher infection and mortality rates for black, indigenous, and persons of color (BIPOC). We witnessed police shootings of Black people and resulting protests and political uncertainty. We experienced the cessation of in-person worship. The longing for our sanctuaries, our sacred places of worship was heightened as we faced the seemingly unprecedented events of 2020. But we also learned to appreciate that the church is more than our buildings. Bishop Kusserow’s statement on sanctuary that we, that our neighbors, are truly God’s sanctuary, brings to light how important it is for us to remember that it’s the people who constitute the sanctuary. How we care for each other matters.

The need for sanctuary space, especially for immigrants, refugees, and people of color, is not new. A fitting example can be found in the story of Rev. Jehu Jones, the first Black Lutheran pastor in the United States.

Jehu Jones was born in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1786. He worked as a tailor, and in 1816 (when Black people were first allowed to attend) became a member of the Lutheran Church of German Protestants along with his wife and children. At that time, members could rent pews, though Black members were limited to designated areas of the sanctuary.

After working with a group of Black community leaders in Charleston who were considering emigration to Liberia, Jones sought to be appointed as a missionary and was ordained as a Lutheran pastor in 1832. When circumstances prevented Jones from traveling to Liberia, he settled with his family in Philadelphia, where he began to preach and provide pastoral care among the Black people of the city. Though there were other Black churches established in the city, there was not yet a Black Lutheran church. A physical building in which to meet would be a sanctuary for the members of the congregation Jones had gathered. No longer would they be relegated to a few segregated pews in white churches, but could instead worship God together.

In February 1834, his congregation passed the following resolution: “That the congregation endeavor to build a suitable house to be dedicated to the worship of Almighty God” [4] and Jones soon set out on a fundraising tour, visiting congregations across central Pennsylvania and Maryland. Later that year, lots were purchased and the cornerstone laid. Unfortunately, despite Jones’s fundraising efforts, aid promised by the Synod of Pennsylvania was never paid, and creditors brought suit against Jones and the church. The building was sold in a sheriff’s sale in 1839, though the congregation continued to meet for worship with Jones as their pastor at least through 1851.

In 1849, Jones requested help from the Synod of New York to establish a Black Lutheran congregation in New York City. His request was denied, and a committee submitted a report that, without cause, questioned the faithfulness and integrity of his entire ministry. Despite these unfair attacks, “Jones should be remembered, above all, for his unflagging commitment to his missionary calling and his steadfast faith in the teachings of the Lutheran Church.” [5]

The established Lutheran Church was not a sanctuary space for Rev. Jehu Jones or his congregation in Philadelphia. While white Lutherans offered support with their words, time and again they failed to follow up with the necessary actions. This continues to be a struggle in our own times. Though we say that we value diversity as the ELCA, too often our words fall short when they are not accompanied by action.

If we want to care for one another well, we must approach this work with intentionality. The synod’s Authentic Diversity & Justice Team was formed in early 2020 as a way to prioritize this work. One of our guiding statements is that “we build up disciples to proclaim through word and deed that the gospel of Jesus is one of liberating justice.” Much of our initial work was focused on providing resources for individuals and congregations who were just beginning to come to terms with racial injustice and white privilege. In June, we joined in the ELCA’s commitment to commemorate the Emanuel Nine and confess our complicity with racism in our church on the fifth anniversary of the shooting at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston. Later in the year we hosted a conversation on the “Unpacking White Privilege” article in Living Lutheran and offered a webinar on “The Language of Advent.” We also began sending out a monthly email newsletter, with resource reviews and information about upcoming events. Going forward, it is our hope to lift up the work of Black Lutherans across the Church.

As we strive to learn from our past, and respond to our present, the following quote from Bishop Kusserow’s reflection on what it means to be a sanctuary church serves as a good reminder to us of what it means to become faithful witnesses of the visible church. “As I see it, a Sanctuary Church tends to its liturgy to be careful that its words and actions proclaim the faith faithfully. A Sanctuary Church preaches the Gospel of Jesus Christ as God’s gift of salvation for all the world. A Sanctuary Church feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, cares for the poor, provides education, speaks up against systemic sin that destroys human communities, advocates for human rights locally and globally, and treats all people as the Sanctuary in and among whom God chooses to dwell. I think of Sanctuary Church in this way – being our best selves.” [6]

ELCA Sanctuary Denomination Talking Points https://download.elca.org
Kusserow, Kurt. “Sanctuary Church: Being Our Best Selves,” August 13, 2019
Ibid.
Johnson, Jr., Karl E. and Joseph A Romeo. “Jehu Jones (1786-1852): The First African American Lutheran Minister.” Lutheran Quarterly X, no. 4 (Winter 1996)
Ibid.
Kusserow, “Sanctuary Church.”

Pastor Kerri Clark
Authentic Diversity & Justice Task Force & Pastor of Trinity, Connellsville
adj@swpasynod.org

Pastor Brenda Henry
Authentic Diversity & Justice Task Force & Pastor of Pittsburgh Lutheran United Ministries
adj@swpasynod.org

SWPA Synod ELCAFebruary 9, 2021