Orchard Ridge United Church of Christ

Preached by Winton Boyd on May 11, 2008
Acts 2

Today, I am grateful to be a part of the United Church of Christ, which has invited its churches to seize a moment in our national consciousness to talk about race in this country.

The history of our denomination contains both the sins and successes of people committed to full justice for all.

• Puritans seeking religious freedom became blind to the exclusive Christianity they practiced.

• Abolitionists from predecessor denominations set a high bar for committed, selfless, counter cultural work against the oppression of African slaves.

• We are the people of God, and we represent both hope and discouragement of America.

As I begin this sermon, I want to acknowledge a few important points:
• My foremost concern is not a strategy for our church to increase its numbers of people of color. The goal of our reflection is not some pre-determined and arbitrary expectation, but rather it is to consider how authentic conversations & sacred relationships might influence our acting, leadership and hope in all areas of our lives.
• I assume most of us have worked hard on issues of race race for years. We don’t minimize these efforts. On the other hand, Pentecost always presents us a new opportunity to open ourselves to the infusion of God’s spirit in a new and powerful way.
• Many of us have personal stories of pain and grief, as well as transcendence and joy, when it comes to race. At the same time, a serious conversation about race must move beyond our own feelings, attitudes and behaviors to examine the relaities of cultural and institutional racism.
• Racism is limited to White people or people of privilege. Reconciliation is not something we can do alone. Yet, we start the conversation with ourselves - what we know, who we are. While not all of us in this room are privleged in every way, most of us live with privilege in many ways. It is critical, therefore, that we begin our conversation from the place of our privilege. As such, most of my comments will directed toward those of us who are privileged with white skin, high levels of education and income compared to the median in this country, with a vast safety net in our lives should something go wrong.

For over a generation, the pre-eminent African American theologian, one who coined the term, “black liberation theology,” has been Dr. James H. Cone of Union Seminary in New York City. In a 2003 book, Soul Work: Anti Racist Theologies in Dialogue¸ Cone wrote about the great sin of silence among the white church in the face of white supremacy and racism.

To dismantle such structures, Cone seeks to help us reflect on why they remain so entrenched. He claims, as many of us would acknowledge in our own lives, that racism is simply not part of our every day consciousness. He raises the question, “Why don’t whites confront racism, why do we avoid it?” While complicated and nuanced, he offers several broad reasons.

1. Whites do not talk about racism because they do not have to talk about racism. We have most of the power in the world. Powerful people do not talk, except on their own terms and almost never at the behest of others.

2. Whites avoid racial dialogue because talk about white, structural supremacy arouses deep feelings of guilt. We do not want to think of ourselves as evil people or that our place in the world has often been achieved through colonization, enslavement, exploitation – here and around the world.

3. Whites avoid race topics because they do not want to engage black rage.

We can argue with Cone, we can dismiss one or all of his reasons. We can see in each of his reasons, a flip side, a painful counter balance, a point of confusion or misunderstanding. But I think they give us a valuable starting point on this Pentecost Sunday.

On this Sunday in which we celebrate the birth of the church, the “loosing” of the Holy Spirit upon people of all tongues – we ask, “what, God, would you have us do with this newfound blessing and affirmation?”

1. Cone is right that powerful people talk on their own terms. Nevertheless, as people of faith, we acknowledge that stepping out of power positions is precisely what allowed Jesus to transcend all human divisions and allowed him to see everyone as a child of God first. On Pentecost, with the help of the Spirit of God that is both within us and transcends all of us, God challenges to make intentional efforts to listen to the stories and the struggles of oppressed people, and recognize that their experience is not simply an abberation from ours, but is completely different.

For example, last week three black men killed a white police officer in Philadelphia. Two nights later, a couple of black men were stopped by a group of white police who beat them senselessly; the incident has been all over national television. As my brother who lives in Philadelphia pointed out, when Timonthy McVeigh bombed the Federal building in Oklahoma City, white people all over America were not afraid that they were going to be pulled over because one white person did a horrible deed. However, in Philadelphia black people all over the city knew instinctively that they could become victims of white rage; and did.

After 9/11 every Arab-American knew they were a target of white rage.

Anybody who works with Latino immigrants will tell you that the smallest rumor that the INS is making raids will send a huge percentage of Latinos – citizens, legal residents and illegal but working residents alike – into a ‘hiding’ mentality. Right here in Madison, school absence and work absence rates can soar over just such a rumor.

Until we as white people truly grasp that the stories of people of color tell the story of another America, reconciliation has no foothold. Until we go out of our way to try to understand, to listen, to put ourselves in situations where our power won’t get in the way of our hearing, reconciliation will not occur.

Again the model of Jesus is helpful. He first gave up power, but he also listened and understood the lives of those quite different from him.

2. If Cone is right that people of privilege struggle with guilt, as people of faith we claim the power of confession and honesty to our spiritual growth. God seeks the transformation of our lives, not by guilt, but by the renewing power of grace in our lives.

As a middle-upper class white male who has cared about these issues for most of my adult life, I am deeply aware that I am far from successful. I am only sometimes conscious of my blind spots, my assumptions, my instinctive reactions. As I think back to my dreams from 25 years ago for my life, I know my hopes were for greater progress – personally and institutionally. Even today, I am keenly aware that I have privileges I didn’t ask for and sometimes don’t know how to surrender.

I know that in many institutional settings, people of color are encouraged to develop a “doublemindedness” in which they learn how to act white when necessary without losing their identify as a person of color. It is a survival strategy which white men like me can ignore our whole lives.

I have come to believe that as privileged Christians we need to develop somewhat of a ‘reverse doublemindedness’– the ability to relinquish power when necessary and the ability to use our power when possible for the pursuit of justice. It is the difference between using power over and using power on behalf of others.

This privileged doublemindedness only comes with intentionality and only remains part of our consciousness and spirituality when we realize it is OUR work – and that it will in many ways shape our legacy.

However, there is hope in God’s grace leading us forward for two reasons.

First, there are those who live with less privilege who believe in us.

I had a simple but powerful experience while in the DR this year. Our host, Cristabel, was a young, vivacious, energetic Dominican woman. Yet there was no hiding the difference in wealth and opportunity in our respective lives. One night she offered to teach us to dance the merenge. It didn’t take long to realize that this was not going to be pretty. But, she taught us the moves, got us in pairs, and set us on our way. Fairly soon, and with great laughter, she stopped us and reminded us that she has taught a lot of North Americans this dance, and we have some common mistakes – we move our arms not our hips, for example.

But, there was no condemnation, there was not sarcasm, there was no impatience. What I heard in her voice was a complete delight in us Madisonian robots. Just as we loved her smooth and flowing dance moves, her youthful energy, and the way she open doors of conversation with others - she delighted in our generosity, our hard work ethic, our musical ability and even our stiff bodies.

This exchange was a reminder that when really connect with those in a different race in our culture or in the world – there is a great sense of possibility. There is a great sense that together we can bring our strengths to the table of injustice, heartache, hopelessness. We need each other, we depend on each other, and we cherish each other.

None of us are immune to the need for affirmation and encouragement; from the need to have a place to “ask the stupid questions”– without judgment or ridicule. Small successes in one area or one setting of our lives can motivate us in larger, more challenging areas as well.

But, the second reason I have hope is that I believe in the Spirit of Pentecost. I believe lives are changed by sacred encounters. I have witnessed, in this church and in countless settings, hearts unfolding like flowers before God. Paulo Freire, the Brazilian educator, said that for people of privilege to effectively work alongside oppressed people for their liberation we need to go through an “Easter experience” or a spiritual transformation. Such transformation can be sudden or gradual. To be spiritually alive people, we are called to open our hearts and minds every day to the possibility that WE can be changed, touched, deepened, and inspired by the Spirit of God. The daily work remains, but the need to remain open to the Spirit in our lives never lessons.

3. As Christians, we know that God welcomes and receives all of us as we are – angry, grief stricken, hopeful. Cone is right to name black anger. Barak Obama, in his speech on race in Philadelphia in late March, was wise to acknowledge that anger and rage are not limited to people of color. He said,

(There is an) anger …within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. They’ve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away …opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense.

In fact, one of the things that may bind us is the common, if different, experience of pain. Almost every race conversation I have been a part of during my adult life has included real, powerful, and unforgetable pain. For those of us who are privileged, acknowledging our pain can be the door through which we bind empathy and understanding for the pain of others. As we admit and name our pain, we can and should acknowledge that the effects of structural racism on people of color is real, it is not just in their minds.

On the occasions when I have sat on both sides of the separating wall in Israel – with Jews on one side and Palestinians on the other – what I find most striking is that the wall prevents them from hearing one another’s pain. The wall allows all sorts of distortions and justifications to develop. The original pain was and is real – and with no place to share it as fellow human beings – it can easily turn into rage, racism, or phobias of all kinds.

It is our task, our lifelong and unrelenting task, is to work towards removing the barriers created by implicit and explicit privilege. Our task is to do our work to prepare the ground for possibility of a sacred conversation. It is hard work, to be sure. And as any one who has tried knows, there are no guarantees that when we are ready, others will be also.

Tex Sample, retired preacher, recounts in the DVD Living the Questions his experience of listening to Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking from the back of a flatbed truck in Selma in 1965 – 43 years ago. After lifting up his dream, King concluded by acknowleding that many in the crowd wanted to know how long the dream would take?

“I come to say to you this afternoon however difficult the moment, however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, because no lie can live forever…
How long? Not long, because you will reap what you sow.
How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”

May we open our hearts to the Spirit of God so that we can keep hope and work in faith as we await that day.