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As soon as I accepted Ed’s invitation to speak today, I heard a tell
tale “uh-oh” in my head. I was a little worried about what I was
going to actually say, but the bigger fear was I am 2 classes into a
degree in theology. I am no expert, not even a studied scholar –
and yet, here I stand. You are warned: A little knowledge is a
dangerous thing!
Now, to be fair to
Ed, he isn’t just taking off a weekend from writing and speaking.
After meeting for coffee, and discussing things I had been reading
in school which resonated with his own passions, he suggested that
perhaps I was ready to give the sermon. Here I was wired on
caffeine telling him “no, no, I think the service should go in this
direction, this song could be played here, and perhaps we could do
another on this topic…” For those of you who know me, it may be a
surprise that he had to encourage me to take this challenge on. I
have to say it was probably a wise move that he did. I like to
think it was a move to safety, like he was stepping aside to let a
freight train go by.
So what is it that
moved us to stoke our bellies with caffeine and talk of justice and
God? Why might it be important that I talk at this time of the
year? I am taking Black Theology at Xavier, and it has been quite
the wake up call. So, it seemed to us that perhaps at the end of
Black History month it might be good to share some other voices and
reflect on who we are.
But before we dive
in, let me backtrack to our annual meeting and to the results of our
communal inventory. I shall paraphrase a bit in summary: we learned
that we are tired and beat up, and yet some think that we’re
resting on our laurels. We want challenge and comfort in our
sermons and progressive Theology in our service. In the national
survey we found that we are an incredibly active church, highly
educated, and determined to make the world better. Which is
wonderful news, and a great place to move forward. In short, we
want to do good things and walk away from church feeling energized.
But perhaps being Christian is supposed to be more than recharge our
batteries on Sundays.
Our reading in
Deuteronomy tells us that we are to “walk in all Gods ways, to love
God.” The reading continued with another directive “you shall love
the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” I can
say that for me, this has always been one of those directives that
led to extreme guilt, since I was never going to love the stranger
as well as God did. Perhaps it is because I grew up gay in a
straight world, or that I’m a perfectionist, or maybe it’s because I
grew up Catholic; anyway I saw it, I would not measure up. That is
a HUGE challenge to put to a person! Paul stated is a bit
differently in our second reading, when he tells the Galatians “Bear
one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of
Christ.”
Ok, great! The
little voice was going off in my head again saying: “Now you’re
doomed, because you can hardly bear your own burdens let alone
someone else’s – and what if you don’t like the person!? ”
When I first came to
Mt. Auburn, I hadn’t been to church in years…I mean years! So there
was a lot of remembering to be done of things I supposedly knew.
Much to my surprise, in my New Member class I learned about a
radical Christ. Who was he? Never heard of him before? Hanging
out with the poor, upsetting the social apple cart of his day, and
generally doing stuff the Romans didn’t like. I was also asked what
I thought about Christianity, why I was Christian and how I might
interact with Jesus’ legacy. What was this place? I could like
this Presbyterian stuff – you know, where we live: “faith informed
by reason, and reason enlarged by faith.” Good stuff! In that New
Member class, I got to write a faith statement – another novelty to
me – and in part is said:
“Recently, listening
to a Mt. Auburn sermon, I realized that for me it means a choice. A
choice to follow the teachings and ways of Jesus, as a way to
express and show God’s love to others. It is, for me that simple.
There are many paths to knowing God’s love, and I choose to live my
life exploring and living the lessons of Jesus as learned through
the Scriptures.”
This was a big deal
for me to say the words. Could be because I’m naďve, but I remember
growing up thinking everyone was Catholic – or Jewish, I did read
the Bible after all! I just thought you were born that way, but now
I got to think about why I might be Christian. Whoa!
Fast forward to now,
my study of Theology, and my reading of parts of Black Theology
and Black Power. James H. Cone, a distinguished professor at
Union Theological Seminary and a pioneering author and thinker, laid
out being a Christian a little more bluntly in 1969 by writing “To
be righteous through Christ places a man in the situation where he
too, like Christ, must be for the poor, for God, and against the
world.” I thought, “All right – radical Christ fighting for the
poor!” You see, that’s what I loved about Mt. Auburn when I
joined. Taking on the world for justice, is a very cool thing! But
wait, what does that mean? We might take a look at Black Theology
for an answer.
I hope to shed a
little more light on that in a bit. But let me first point out that
I am 7 weeks into a class which goes another 8 – each week I am
having more and more “aha” moments. This “kick in the pants” each
week shows me how much I don’t know, and how limited my own
education has been until I sought out this class. I’m offering this
synopsis today as a minute history lesson from the limited knowledge
I have in Black Theology and Black History. I encourage you to go
seek more.
Black Theology, let
me point out first and foremost, is not what Black people do in
church. It arose in the late 1960’s when Black theologians were
walking a tightrope, trying to balance their desire for social and
political justice for poor blacks against their faith which promoted
love and tolerance. Following the footsteps of Barth and Luther,
they mined scripture for a central message but also studied the
history of the Black Church. What they found inspired them, and
offered a direction in which they could move. Some of you may have
had a much more enlightened education than I, and might know this
story. I, on the other hand, was new to this information – again, a
little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
In the early 1800’s
Christianity had typically been a tool to keep the enslaved under
their masters’ watchful eye – a white religion, handed to slaves,
which offered the vision of a better life after death.
Searching history, Cone and others found folks like Denmark Vesey
and Gullah Jack, of Charleston, North Carolina. They were
insurrectionists who from 1818- 1822 planned a revolt. Vesey was a
former slave to a slave-ship captain, and now was free and an active
leader in the African Methodist Episcopal church. Their base of
action was in church, and Vesey was one of the first to use the
Exodus stories to keep the message of liberation in front of the
enslaved. Vesey found rebellion and escape in the Old Testament, and
liberation in Jesus, which offered hope and turned the masters
religion into their own.
Christianity then,
became a way to keep the slaves hope for freedom and a better life
alive; it was a way for them to recharge and get up after they were
beaten down. At church meetings and through correspondence,
Biblical passages were utilized to pass along messages to thousands
of others fighting with Vesey and Gullah Jack. But the rebellion
was not to happen. They were betrayed by a Charleston slave,
brought to trial and executed. One of the largest debates in the
white community at the time regarded baptism; if baptism sets slaves
free in Christ, then slaves would see themselves as free. There
could be none of this, so after the trial, the AME church was torn
down.
The Black Church,
institutionally, formed after 1865 because blacks had been rejected
by white churches. The white church also emphasized elements that
tried to suppress the African elements typically incorporated by
blacks. Imagine trying to follow your heart as a Black individual
then: choose the cultural identity you were born with or religion.
I think some of us in this congregation can relate a little to
this predicament. A sense of personhood is an extremely hard
struggle.
From this history,
which is more plentiful and much richer than what I have shared,
modern Black theologians constructed Black Theology. Theology is
man’s language about God. As most theologians do, James Cone and
his colleagues asked the question: how does the Christian tradition
relate to the major issues of our world in our times? They then
asked: what might Jesus look like and in which community might he
be acting today? The New Testament Jesus was defined by Cone as
“the liberator whose ministry was in solidarity with, and whose
death was on behalf of, the poor.” The central theme of Black
Theology was liberation of the poor and oppressed, and one of the
main messages Cone was trying to hammer home was that Christianity
and racism should be incompatible. For Cone, if you employed racism
in the Church (and he was considering the whole church – capital C),
then the Church wasn’t truly Christian. Only Black Theology was
true to scripture and true to Christianity. Black Theologians
utilized the language of the Black Power movement because it framed
the contemporary social and political crisis of blacks in America,
and was also the only language which best expressed the liberation
they sought.
This was huge! Not
only did this theology reframe the theme of Jesus’ message in
contemporary times, but they learned their “non-academic” voices
were just as important as any other in defining what they believed.
Cone is clear that he learned from Gutierrez that theologies cannot
be defined by intellectual statements but by practical actions.
Creating a theology that was by Blacks and for Blacks took
Martin Luther King’s Christianity and embedded it with Malcolm X’s
actions. Black Theology was written for change. It remains a
strong critique of the Christian institution as a whole. Think
about it: this was not something that was written for white approval
in the scholarly havens of upper academia, but was written for a
specific audience and the authors did not care what whites thought
of it. The audience was very clear: blacks and the oppressed in
current society. It is a kick in the pants to the Christian church,
challenging the very structure of Christianity.
Now, I know we have
some in the congregation who are saying with me “yeah, but what
about women? Gays and lesbians?” I can say to you that the study
continues. Cone, considered one of the founders of Black Theology,
now includes other voices in the struggle and admits to being
chastened by these other struggles and voices. There is grace in
speaking the truth, but also in hearing it. As Thoreau said in an
interview “it takes two to speak the truth – one to speak, and
another to hear.” Therefore, I suggest that Mt. Auburn might
consider Black Theology as another source from which to learn.
I see much of our
struggle as a church in the brief sketch I have shared with you
today – although it is true that the timeline and atrocities are not
quite as extensive. We are a congregation comprised of gays and
lesbians who make up approximately half the congregation. Our
mindset is almost unanimous politically – I mean think about it,
would you want to be an out republican in this congregation? Based
on survey information, we are mostly white, mostly college educated,
and from what I’ve observed mostly progressive/borderline
liberal/extremely liberal – take your pick. We are privileged
people- for the majority that means white privilege. We look the
same and voice the same opinions, on the whole. We have been a
pioneer in crafting documents and fighting for the full inclusion of
gays and lesbians in the church. We are a justice loving church,
and I am proud to belong to this group of amazing individuals. I
would venture to say that’s why a good number of us found our way
here: fighting for justice, as well as being welcomed and included.
But, we’re also amazingly homogenous and almost as rigid in our
beliefs as some of those churches we rail against.
I offer a recent
example: we had an interim pastor come in with a different
theological tradition and utilize it. I know that I chafed in my
seat, and I have a feeling I’m not the only one. I’m not
necessarily proud of it, but I can say I complained loudly. I
wanted to hear what I wanted to hear – didn’t want that old stuffy
traditional stuff; that’s part of why I left the Catholic Church.
Not a very good example of being open to a different perspective,
I’d say. Some of you may have asked, along with me: Where’s our
energizing inspiration to take action? Are we supposed to bring
that with us now? I wanted to hear I was ok, and that we were going
to be ok. Because I see us as beaten up and laying low, licking our
wounds as it were. I do not think we have found our energies and
inspiration in our faith as well as black theologians have.
We are still trying
to determine in which direction to move: continue to fight for
justice issues/press forward, or rest a bit, regain our strength. Or
another perspective is offered in the words of Simone Weil “The
danger is not lest the soul should doubt whether there is any
bread, but lest, by a lie, it should persuade itself that it is not
hungry.” Are we still hungry? I think we are.
Our challenge may
not be do we rest or move on, but our challenge may be to become a
bit more diverse. Expand who we are as church body, become involved
in our church neighborhood. I realize that’s not easy, as most of
us drive 10 or more minutes to attend Sunday worship, and that makes
for a long day. Perhaps, then, it might mean seeking out and
hearing different voices to enlarge our faith and our reason. Don
Rucknagel passed along a wonderful article to the listserv on
war-mongering from Commondreams.org, which was brave in its ability
to call Americans the “stiff-necked people” of biblical times. It
challenged the readers to “try all over again to follow the
dangerous, nonviolent, troublemaking Jesus.” Are we ready for that
fight? Are we ready to follow Jesus’ ways, and be true to the
Christian tradition outlined for us in our reading for today?
This is the third
Sunday in lent, traditionally a time for us to reflect on who we are
and what our faith means to us. What it means for Jesus to have
died for us, and for us to follow his example. It is also the last
Sunday in Black History month, traditionally a month with posters of
the more famous in Black History. Perhaps as we dig a little deeper
into ourselves and our faith, we can dig a little further into our
history as well, and learn from those pioneers in the past we
typically don’t hear about. Perhaps we can revision who our Jesus
looks like – is he European looking or truly North African/Middle
Eastern? And what will that mean if he does look different?
Perhaps we need to think on if we could recognize Christ if we met
him today?
From our readings
being Christian appears deceptively simple: love your neighbor,
bear another’s burdens, etc… What does that mean to us though? And
how do we live that out? Can we imagine more than what we are today
as Christians? Martin Luther King Jr. said “The church must be
reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but
rather the conscience of the state.” Are we, as the church,
fulfilling this mission? Or are we still too weary?
It’s Lent, we’re
supposed to ask a lot of questions, right? And I appreciate you
listening to mine. In that questioning, let us not forget we are a
community. Let us support and love one another as we struggle to
understand the meaning of our Christianity. Let us imagine a
different way of operating and have a vision for full inclusion for
everyone. May you continue to grow with me in our Christian
tradition, challenging me, pushing the Church, and furthering the
mission of justice for all of humanity.
I’ll end with our
reading today from Galatians: “so let us not grow weary in doing
what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give
up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the
good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.”
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