The Rev. Dr. Cecil "Chip" Murray
Courtesy Photo
When he preached, he spontaneously broke into rhyme. Not just with his own words, but with the souls of his congregation, with the hearts of the people in the community he served. Rev. Dr. Cecil “Chip” Murray was the quintessence of the Black preacher, rousing his listeners to joyful amens and hallelujias. But carried along in the cadence of his call and their response, embedded between and under and within his words, was mysticism. Teresa of Avila came through, as did Meister Eckhart and Julian of Norwich and Howard Thurman, if you had ears to hear. He delivered his hearers into union with divine Love.
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Chip Murray was “twice tested by fire”…. the title of the memoir he wrote in 2012. First in the crash of a plane in his decade as an Air Force officer, and later in his pivotal role in bringing peace to South Central LA in the 1992 riots that burned through the neighborhood of the church he served for 27 years, FAME – First African Methodist Episcopal. His inspirational leadership grew the church from 250 to 18,000 souls, and FAME became the center of Black life in the city. After retiring, he served as a mentor to countless pastors and community leaders through the Cecil Murray Center at the University of Southern California. He taught them the arts of civic engagement for social justice. It was in that era that I had the very great privilege of getting to know him, in the course of my work as Senior Associate Dean of Religious Life there. Upon meeting him, I knew I was in the presence of a saint. A Bodhisattva. He was radiant. You could get a sunburn from his smile. He was unfailingly kind and humble to the core. He was one of the most powerful political players in Los Angeles, but put on no airs that would suggest it. He truly was the greatest among us by virtue of being a servant to all the rest.
Chip Murray made Christianity look very, very good. He was disinterested in dogma. He was disinterested in theological labels. He ignored the boundaries within and among religions, embracing what was good in all. He didn’t need to use words like “ecumenism” and “interfaith” and “progressive” because every corpuscle of his being exuded love without limits. Showing up on the streets during the ’92 riot, the universal respect he commanded in the community was crucial to bringing reconciliation and recovery. His cred was unassailable. He was a PhD student under the legendary John Cobb at Claremont School of Theology. While Chip did not use the arcane lingo of Whiteheadian process theology, what he learned from Cobb was implicit, embedded, in his practice and preaching. His was a theology of invitation to participate in cosmic, generative creativity.
Years ago, I attended a talk he gave at USC for a group mostly consisting of white evangelical staff people. He responded to a loaded question about doctrine by saying, in so many words, that Christianity doesn’t have a monopoly on spiritual truth. That left his audience speechless. The reverence they could not help but have for the man left them with a palpable cognitive dissonance. Chip Murray had the purity of heart and character to change hearts and minds. A purity to which I earnestly aspire.
In death, may his life resonate, vibrate, from Los Angeles beyond, as his sonorous voice reverberated inside FAME church. Chip Murray, “¡Presente!”