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mixed media collage with leaves, acrylic paint, and found objects
by gregory a milinovich
october 2023
this october i was invited to participate in a three day trip which was called a "pilgrimage of pain and hope." while that may not sound super exciting to many of you, it actually really intrigued me. i am the kind of person that wants to feel big feelings, and i am drawn to the deep places, so i was interested in traveling to the scranton area, where the trip was planned, to see what it might look like to be a pilgrim that was wide-eyed and listening to the pain and the hope in the stories of others.
this trip included hearing the stories of immigrants to the northeastern pennsylvania area, and the work in the coal mines that many of them did. it included hearing from folks who are working for housing justice and equity in downtown scranton. it included hearing from those indigenous people who first inhabited that land. we also learned about the underground railroad in the scranton area. but, by far, the most compelling experience of the pilgrimage was a road trip to port jervis, new york.
it was there, in port jervis, where a black man was lynched on june 2, 1892. while some of us have been led to believe that lynchings only took place in the south, we learned the story of Robert Lewis, who was beaten and killed by an angry mob here in the northeast.
when we arrived in port jervis we met a retired port jervis policeman named Michael Worden, who has been obsessed with this story over the past couple years, and has researched it thoroughly, though it had largely been swept into the dustbin of history where it could cause us as little shame as possible, and perhaps even be forgotten entirely. but Worden has pulled it from the margins, and written a book about this story. he met us in port jervis, and gave us a walking tour, from the downtown area where things started on that june evening, where Lewis was first accused of an act that he may or may not have been guilty of (we will never really know, since he wasn't given any due process), up the hill out of town, where Lewis was beaten and dragged and beaten some more, past several churches, where many in the angry mob could be found on sunday mornings. those with sticks and clubs might be the same ones with bibles and prayer books on some other day. they beat Robert Lewis to an inch of his death, and tried to hang him a couple times, before finally arriving at the tree that would ultimately be the place of his death. there they finally hung him, and he died. it is a story of horrible evil and hate, enacted by regular townsfolk. i recommend reading more about the story, or perhaps even buying Worden's book, which you can find here.
as i walked up the same hill that Robert Lewis walked up, and as i stood on that same patch of land where his blood dripped from his beaten body, and hung from a tree, i realized that i was walking a via dolorosa of sorts. i realized that i was bearing witness to a crucifixion. when we finally gathered together at the spot of his death, we joined together in a circle, and shared in the sacrament of communion, the bread and the cup, the tangible taste and feel of something embodied. as i reflected on that experience i realized that this was a much more powerful experience of the crucifixion than anything i had experienced in the holy land. and i recognize that some might say, "but Jesus was actually there in the holy land," but i would suggest that Jesus was just as much there in port jervis, in ways that speak to me in deeper tones and more vibrant colors that haven't faded through the years quite as much yet. i believe that every murder is a crucifixion; every time life is taken and not given, Jesus is there, suffering with us.
as i walked that via dolorosa, i felt compelled to gather some detritus from the ground. i picked up some leaves and some pieces of cardboard. when i got home i wanted to memorialize this experience in some way, so i put them together in a collage, along with a sketch of Robert Lewis, and some text from the crucifixion of Jesus. this piece helps me to remember him, and to force myself to face the evil of what happened to him. and perhaps it reminds me that i, too, could be capable of such evil at the crucible of personal and systemic fear.
Jesus, let me see you in Robert Lewis, in his tragic murder, and in the thousand ways that he is (you are) still moving among us. by your grace, keep me from joining mobs of hate and fear, and give me courage to stand on the side of love and justice. please forgive me for all the ways i fail at this. amen.
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