Will Campbell: The Dead Prophet's Power to Make Us Stand

Today I stumbled upon a quirky little tale in 2 Kings about the burial of the prophet Elisha.  The story goes that the prophet died and was buried on grounds subject to hostile bands of marauding Moabites.  Apparently, another man was later being buried there when one of these Moabite bands made their attack.  The dead man was hastily thrown into Elisha's grave and as soon as his body touched Elisha's bones "he came to life and stood on his feet" (2 Kings 13:21).  Like I said, it's a quirky tale.  My Bible offers an explanatory note with a commentary which says, "Stories of this sort are often told about saints and wonder-workers."

I might have dismissed the Elisha story as just another legend from long ago, except for the fact that on Saturday America buried one of its own great prophets, Will Campbell.  Will was one of the few white clergy who played an active part in the major civil rights events of the 1960s.  He was the only white person present when Dr. King's Southern Christian Leadership Council was founded, and he escorted the black students into Central High School when the Little Rock school system was desegregated in 1957.  Though Will's contribution was overshadowed by more prominent figures like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Rev. James Lawson, those on or close to the inside knew the importance of Will Campbell.  As journalist David Halberstam once said, Will was a "walking nerve center" within the movement.

 

Later, Will became buttressed his image as "a bootleg preacher" by drinking moonshine with and serving as a kind of chaplain to country and westerns stars like Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash and other assortments of rednecks, outlaws and hippies.  He ruffled some liberal feathers when he reached out to minister to members of the KKK, even visiting Dr. King's assassin, James Earl Ray, in jail.  Will once said, "Mr. Jesus died for the bigots as well."  It was that kind of simple, plain-spoken talk that earned Will his reputation for preaching (and living) the double-edged truth of the Gospel, which he once defined as the message that says, "We're all bastards, but God loves us anyways."

 

There have been a number of times in which I have been struggling in life or in ministry and have picked up one of Will's books to find courage.  Just inside the cover of my copy of Brother to a Dragonfly I have a date marked: October 2004.  I was reading Dragonfly while considering both a call to ministry and also whether or not to ask my wife - a black woman - to marry me.  Race and religion were ongoing and sometimes conflicting themes in my life, and I found reading Will's story helped me to make sense of my own.  The thought that Jesus might have died for the bigots who did not approve of my soon-to-be fiance was especially challenging.  But I knew Will would have said there was no "might have" to it; Jesus did die for them and for everybody else also.

 

One image from Will's life that has stuck with me all these years is that of his diploma.  Will graduated from Yale Divinity School in 1952.  Southern boys with Ivy League educations were no doubt rare, but Will placed his own inimitable value on his education, taping his certificate of ordination over the diploma on the wall.  His point was clear: It is God who calls and equips us to preach the Gospel, and at the end of the day it will be God alone to whom we will have to give an account for how we have answered.  Whenever I have been faced with a decision in ministry that might cost something - whether it be dollars, members, standing in the community, or all of the above - I have thought of Will's diploma and its been a source of - if not inspiration - always provocation, challenging me to make the right choice rather than the safe one. 

 

When I read that story about Elisha's grave today I thought of Will.  Will has been buried, but whether alive or dead the prophet still has power.  And though others may run in the face of maurading forces, anyone who falls into the pages of one of Will's books will find the courage to rise up and stand on his feet.

 

Of course, such statements would likely make Will uneasy.  He eshewed followers.  In 1990 Rolling Stone did an article on Will where he rejected the label "guru".  "I don't want any disciples.  I'm trying to be a disciple," he told them.  But even his refusal to be lionized showed why he was indeed a lion of a man.

 

Once Will got a call from a priest in New Jersey who wanted to come down South and join Will in ministry because he felt called to "do something important" with his life.

“Where are you now?" Will asked.

“I'm at a pay phone in Newark," the priest told him.

"Is it one of those glass booths?"

“Yes, it is," said the priest.

"Are there any people out there, or are the streets deserted?"

"There are lots of people."

“Well, son,” said Campbell, "that's your ministry. Go to it."

Stories of this sort are often told about saints and wonder-workers; and they will no doubt go on giving life long after Will's bones have been buried.