THINKING IN BLACK AND WHITE A Sermon by Reverend Lynn Strauss Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of a recently published book, Between the World and Me, writes a letter to his 14-year-old son about the risks and realities of being Black in America. An essay adapted from the book and published in The Atlantic opens with a quote from African American writer, James Baldwin and have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion: because they think they are white. Coates uses this construct, this phrase, throughout his essay because they think they are white. Growing up in America, I have thought I was white. What does that even mean? I am quite aware of the risks and realities of what it means to be female in America, but haven t I taken being white as a simple, uncomplicated truth? Have I even seriously considered the privileges of my skin color? What do Baldwin and Coates mean am I among those who thinking they are white have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion? Can I bear to consider that? I can t rely here on Coates s hard-spoken truths, or Baldwin s fiery passion; I ve got to struggle with this, think about this on my own from my own perspective thinking I am white I must go deeper On my own, but not alone.for we, who covenant together here in Beloved Community, need to do this thinking, this struggling with race and racism and racial justice we need to do this together. I invite you to join me and our newly-forming Racial Justice Working Group. We intend to follow up on our witness that Black Lives Matter with study and dialogue and soul-deep struggle: to look at America and the evil of white racism; to reflect on how our liberal faith might guide us to act for justice in ways that acknowledge how it is we think we are white; how it is we are taught to be Black, or Brown or Mixed; how we are all at risk in different ways because racism is a power in all of our lives.
We will not rush to act until we have learned more, until we have shared our stories, and listened well. We will not rush to act until we have acknowledged our conscious and unconscious motivations; until we have spoken our pain and confusion. We will not act until we understand the spiritual depths, risks and possibilities. As theologian Walter Wink clarified in our reading, It is not enough to simply repent of the ways we have consciously chosen to collude with evil; we must free ourselves form our unconscious enthrallment as well. This work will be hard. None of us is expert in it. There is no single truth except, perhaps that we share a responsibility, that we share in a dream - a dream articulated by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. so long ago now: that our children, none of our children, will be judged by the color of their skin. Or, as Ta-Nehisi Coates tells his son to assume - that none will be killed or broken, feared or hated because of the color of their skin. I turn to our principles for guidance and wisdom, but I find them inadequate to the task of racial justice - they do not speak of evil or of love. Our second Unitarian Universalist principle, affirms: Justice, equity and compassion in human relations. Does this mean that we act politely with others? Yes. We aspire to equity - is equity the same as equality? Does it mean that we meet the full ethical demands of justice - that we share to each according to their need? Does it mean that we are sorry, empathic, but we accept that the poor will always be with us? Equity, according to my dictionary, corresponds to fairness, not to equality. And isn t fairness in the eyes of the beholder? Isn t it fair that a former slave be granted 20 acres and a mule? Isn t it fair that the poor be helped to have low income housing and food stamps?
How could there be a way to divide resources absolutely equally? Are we not different in skills and resources? Don t I work hard for what I have purchased? Isn t my history, my inheritance different from yours? Didn t I struggle through graduate school? Do we really wish for equality? I believe there is a paradox inherent in this second principle, for don t we both long for and fear equality? Don t we both need and feel threatened by equality? What might we be called to sacrifice for true equality? What might we, who think we are white, have to give up? Are we willing to balance the scales, to make reparation for the sake of true equality? Why did those good Unitarian Universalists deciding our principles forego equality and settle for equity? Are we content to settle for good behavior rather than wrestling with evil? I wish the Pope was here this morning. I wish his staff had made another error and given Pope Francis an audience with us. If he d been here last week, he would have enjoyed our Solar Celebration and our commitment to being a Green Sanctuary. If he were here today, I d like to ask him about what he thinks of our principles - are they good enough guides to right living, to moral decision making, to understanding the power of evil and especially the evil of white racism? I think we UUs have neglected the category of evil, and need to return to serious consideration of what that might mean for liberal religion going forward. There is so much evil in the world - war and violence, hunger and mass shootings, lack of universal health care, capital punishment and mass incarceration - mightn t a theology of evil give us a way forward? Couldn t the Pope give us some insight on the category and question of evil? Pope Francis might notice our rainbow flag and we could tell him how we make that symbol meaningful through our Rainbow Youth Alliance program and the ritual and blessing of marriage for all gay or straight couples.
He might notice our Black Lives Matter banner and wonder how we make that symbol meaningful. That s what I m hoping we will do together in the coming year with the leadership of our Racial Justice Working Group. Make that symbolic banner meaningful in our programs, in our commitments, and in the life of our congregation. I need support to think more deeply and honestly about the impact of race and racism in my life. I need support to consider the full implications of a commitment to equality and justice in my life. I need support to be truly open to diversity of all kinds. I have so much to learn from all of you and from the scholars and thinkers of our day and from our youth and young adults. I think of the words of Margaret Mead, Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world, indeed it s the only thing that ever has. I came of age in a family and school system and religion that emphasized dualistic thinking. There was good and evil, right and wrong, heaven and hell, rich and poor, leaders and followers. Things were always black and white. And then I turned aside from childish ways of thinking. I learned about Hegel and dialectical thinking, Never let yourself be bullied by an either/or. I learned to appreciate paradox. We struggle with a paradox this morning - we value equality, we really do want it, but we also fear what it might require of us. I learned from psychology and eastern religion that rigid, fixed categories can stop us from seeing, that our beliefs are the greatest obstacle to clear perception. That letting go into something new, but as yet unseen, can bring insight and new possibilities. From Unitarian Universalism I have learned to appreciate ambiguity, to hold two truths as valid, to understand not being certain as a strength. I have invited two of our teens to join our Racial Justice Working Group and they were eager to be included. The perspective of each generation is unique and important to include in the conversation. And we have made an effort to keep the Working Group as racially diverse as possible.
Unitarian Universalist theologian, Paul Rasor reminds us that spiritual transformation requires difficult soul work. We can t focus on changing others or only changing institutions; that is too easy. We must first do the hard work of changing ourselves. We must be freed, as Walter Wink says, from our unconscious enthrallment to the power of the unjust order which has possessed all who grew up in America. Rasor continues, when we acknowledge this unconscious captivity we begin to open space for healing and then for expanded community based on love. The metaphor of powers can help us understand that the evil of racism is not only structural and institutional, it is also spiritual. Rasor reminds us that spirituality is not in opposition to rationality. But spirituality can take us deeper into ourselves, and we can find a place to begin anti-racism work within the integrity of our own experience and not someone else s. Rasor encourages us to remember that there is no biological or genetic basis for the racial categories we use. Not only racism, but the category of race itself is a culturally-constructed concept. Most of us have been unwittingly cultured into the racial identities we now carry. The fragmentation of our society produces a parallel fragmentation within our individual selves. In a fractured society we all become fractured selves. And thus, we might think we are white and separate. Thus, we see another person, someone different from ourselves as other. We are sorely in need of healing space, and an expanded sense of community based on love. Children today, especially those who live in racially and ethnically diverse places like the Washington metro area, have a chance to grow up less fractured. They live and grow up within diversity in a way many of us did not.
I know a seven-year-old child who lives in Prince George s County, and is a minority within her school. On her first day of camp this summer, she came home a little sad. Her mother asked, Did you make any friends at camp today? No, she said, I was the only one with peach skin. And so mother and daughter had a talk, and the next day she went to camp ready to make friends. And she reached out, one child to another, and new friends were made. At age seven, she thought of herself as peach.not as white. I pray that is a sign of hope. For the sake of all children, let us join in the soul-work of racial justice together. Let us make our witness that Black Lives Matter as meaningful as we can. Let us face our fears and engage the paradox of our principle of equity, justice, and compassion in ways that can be transforming and healing for us all. Let us expand our thinking beyond black and white. Let us expand our understanding of the word we. So that we might arrive at a place where we can fully celebrate that All Lives Matter and that none of us needs to think we are white in order to survive. So May It Be/Amen