Eleven o’clock on Sunday Morning
written by Deesha Philyaw, Anti-Racist Parent columnist
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in one of his early sermons as an associate pastor at his father’s church, Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, Georgia, said the following: “I am [ashamed] and appalled that eleven o’clock on Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in Christian America.”
I’ve heard Dr. King quoted on this subject many times, but not until I prepared to write about a recent church experience was I aware of the “[ashamed] and appalled” part. According to Advocate of the Social Gospel, September 1948 – March 1963 of The Papers of Martin Luther King, Jr., Dr. King also wrote that the Christian church was “the greatest preserver of the status quo” and, thereby, “one of the chief exponents of racial bigotry.” He concluded that “the church, in its present state, is not the hope of the world. I believe that nothing has so persistently and effectively blocked the way of salvation as the church.”
As a Christian and as an admirer of Dr. King’s efforts and leadership, I didn’t read these words lightly, especially because the churches of my youth reflected precisely the segregation that Dr. King lamented. Now, I know enough history to know that Sunday morning segregation certainly didn’t originate with black folks; we have slavery and Jim Crow to thank for that. I also believe that black churchgoers weren’t the agents of the bigotry to which Dr. King referred. But here we are, many decades after he made that eleven o’clock on Sunday morning observation, and yet the pews in many American churches still look like 1953.
We have a black President-Elect and yet only about 5 percent of our churches are racially integrated, and half of them are in the process of becoming all-black or all-white, according to a CNN.com interview with Curtiss Paul DeYoung, co-author of United by Faith, a book about interracial churches in the U.S.
This issue hits home for me as someone who was born, raised, and “churched” in the South, just as Dr. King was. Over the course of my childhood, I attended Baptist churches, AME churches, Pentecostal churches, Church of God in Christ churches (plus one church in which a washboard served as an instrument and a female preacher “saw” something in me during a revival, but that’s a church story for a different Sunday). My early church-going experience ran the gamut, including periods of “not-going”. One thing that remained constant, however, was that all the congregations I belonged to were black. I lived in a black neighborhood, as did most of my relatives and friends. Big chunks of our lives were segregated, so why not church? I never considered church a segregated place. Segregation had to do with lunch counters, water fountains and buses, Bull Connor, schools and fire hoses. Church was just…church.
To my young mind, church was an extension of my black neighborhood, so of course only black people would be there. My small world broke down into black and white: black people went to churches where there was clapping, singing, shouting, Holy Ghost dancing, charismatic preachers, ushers in white, and hand fans with a funeral home ad on one side, and Jesus, a blue-eyed blond on the other. (Again, a church story for another Sunday.)
I saw white churches on TV or drove past them downtown. They were huge structures with entire buildings dedicated soley to Sunday School, and their services were orderly affairs. This of course was the era before black folks (aside from Reverend Ike and his ilk) joined the mega-church bandwagon en masse, and before I knew about snake-handling, slain-in-the-spirit white folks.
This narrow perception of “white church” was driven home for me by a Catholic Mass I attended when I was about 8-years-old. I went to work with my grandmother during the summer, and at lunch time, her co-worker, Miss Helen, invited me to go with her to Mass. I had no idea what Mass was, but I wanted to find out.
Miss Helen and I entered the church, and I was overwhelmed. The beauty, the size…nothing like any church I’d ever been inside. I noticed that Miss Helen and I were the only black people present, and this was as intriguing to my as the mystery of the parishioners splashing water on their foreheads from a little fountain. At the time, I had a terrible summer cold, but something told me that I could not interrupt the service with a loud cough. So I held it, suffering in silence until Miss Helen noticed me hunched over, looking slightly crazed. She whisked me outside and back to my grandmother, very annoyed that I had cut her Mass short.
White churches seemed, to young me, to be quiet places–not the kind of places for a barking cough–their worship more subdued, less spirit-filled, and therefore, less authentic. The grown-ups around me reinforced this impression.
Still armed with these stereotypical views of church, I headed off to college and…mostly didn’t go to church. I felt bad about that, and occasionally attended a black Baptist church near campus. After college, and, shortly after that, marriage, I searched more earnestly for a church home. My then-husband and I visited several Baptist and AME churches in the communities where we lived in New York and Connecticut, but nothing felt like “home.”
When we relocated to Pittsburgh, we succeeded in finding a church home, and there for the first time, we belonged to a multiracial/multiethnic congregation, one that existed as such purposefully. And also for the first time, church-going for me wasn’t merely cultural or social. It was personal. My faith grew, deepened, and was challenged, all at once. At this church, I embraced the concept of service. Previously, I’d approached church as a “consumer”; now I saw myself as part of a community of servants.
I also embraced the concept of cross-cultural/racial fellowship. As one pastor pointed out, “multiracial/multicultural” simply describes the setting. Yes, we were a bunch of black, white, East Indian, and Latino folk, soccer moms and heavily pierced bikers, connected at the hip in the pews. Dr. King would have been so pleased. But were we having meaningful interactions outside of church? Were we having cross-cultural/racial exchanges that brought us up short and built community? Or were we simply congratulating ourselves on being so very diverse? A decade later, this concept still challenges and informs my thinking about anti-racism parenting, and any kind of anti-racism effort.
However, after six years at that church, I felt a disconnect there socially and sought a different worship environment. A friend had spoken very fondly of her time as a member of a local Episcopal parish, so my family and I visited. Ultimately, we joined this congregation, and in doing so brought the black family total to two. There were also two black women and the occasional black college student. visiting from a nearby university. For the first time, I was worshiping in a what the folks back home would call a “white” church. Where was the shouting, the choir soloist who fancied herself the next Whitney Houston, the fire and brimstone? And what was up with the incense, the standing-kneeling-sitting-standing-kneeling, and that whole drinking-from-the-common-cup thing?
The first time my mother attended church with me while visiting from Florida, I thought she was going to sic an exorcist on me. Communion on a Sunday other than the first Sunday of the month? Heresy! Imagine her relief when, after much reassuring from me, she took Communion and did not burst into flames. But best believe she did not drink from the common cup!
But I did drink from the common cup. I loved the whole liturgy. I loved the quiet and the incense. The ritual and the repetition were refreshing. I found myself reflecting on the words of the hymns and the prayers that we sang and spoke in unison every week. Instead of a burst of raw emotive experience (not that there’s anything wrong with that), I enjoyed more of a slow burn of meaning and thought.
Then one Sunday, after we’d attended the church for a few years, my older daughter announced, “I don’t like being the only brown person in Sunday School.” This was a first. She had always looked forward to Sunday School, church dinners and special events, choir rehearsal, and singing in the choir. But for some reason–and to this day, I still don’t know why–she suddenly needed more brown faces on Sunday morning. I didn’t spend a lot of time asking why. Instead, the Mama Bear in me set out to find a racially diverse church that offered a liturgy that resonated with me. And had a great Sunday School program. Oh, and a kids choir. And more that 10 people in the congregation. With a social justice mission, but that was still conservative enough that my kids’ father wouldn’t balk at their attendance. And if it could be a short drive from my house, that would be great too.
Needless to say, it’s taken me nearly three years to even find a close contender. Clearly my wish list was more of a “you wish” list. We visited other Episcopal churches; Presbyterian churches; and a non-denominational church which once featured a really, really, really loud Christian punk band. During the 2008 presidential campaign, while others debated Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s influence on Barack Obama, the whole fiasco had me researching local United Churches in Christ.
Obviously, the problem was that no one church was going to meet all my wants. Something had to give. And what may have given–jury’s still out–is the racial diversity factor. I’ve found a nearby Episcopal church with a predominantly black congregation. It’s been right up under my nose all along. It felt great today to read from the Book of Common Prayer, to see a young woman with braids wielding the incense, and to sing a spiritual, “Jesus is a-Listenin’” amidst the traditional hymns. The white rector and a few other white congregants aside, I’m essentially choosing segregation. What would Dr. King say?
I’d like to think he’d say that there’s a difference between segregation that has to do with being unwelcoming and separatist, that has to do with a supremacist mindset, and that which was historically conceived out of necessity and which is now welcoming to all.
It’s an interesting time to be an Episcopalian, especially one in Pittsburgh. What with a deposed bishop and declared schism, we’ve even got our own Wikipedia entry, two in fact. Proof positive that few things in life are truly black and white.
Deesha Philyaw is a freelance writer whose publications include Essence, Wondertime (a Disney publication), Bitch magazine, and The Washington Post. Deesha holds a B.A. in economics from Yale University and a Master’s degree in teaching. In her pre-mommy, pre-writing life, she was a management consultant, briefly, and then an elementary school teacher. A native of Jacksonville, Florida, Deesha currently lives in Pittsburgh with her two daughters.
Image courtesy of Celestial Photography on Flickr
Carmen Van Kerckhove is co-founder and president of 
Andrea wrote:
I’m Catholic and you’re unlikely to find a predominantly black Catholic church in this area and probably not in most areas. Black Catholics are a minority in the Church. There are more black Methodists, Baptists, etc. If you ARE a black Catholic and a follower of that religion, you’re not likely to choose to go to another church simply because it’s predominantly black. The religion is more important than the congregation.
I think worship style is going to be an issue as well. I personally would not feel comfortable in a church with a fire and brimstone preacher, shouting, clapping and loud singing, probably because I’m white and come from a very buttoned-up Scandinavian-American area where too much emotional expressiveness and loud noises were very much frowned upon. Also, Catholicism is liturgical. Church is one of the areas where people want to feel comfortable and cultural practices are a big part of that comfort level.
Posted 26 Nov 2008 at 12:40 pm ¶
mamazilla wrote:
i can totally relate to this seemingly ongoing and nomadic search for a church that fulfills every need…
i stopped attending church in college mostly due to laziness although i was and am a cradle catholic. when i moved to san francisco post college, i found a wonderful catholic church. it was very diverse - many people of different backgrounds, ethnicities, etc… the congregation and the jesuit priests were very welcoming. and the encouragement and support to volunteer as a catholic community in the bay area was abundant.
in my experience, being a part of the catholic community was more important than the religion itself. to me, my community was the word made life. the friendships i have forged and the experiences that that church brought to me are priceless treasures.
i left sf to return to chicago to raise our family in 2001. it’s taken us this long to find a church that even remotely fits the large shoes left by my former church. but, i’m so glad. it’s not a church in my area, but i will go out of my way for the sustenance of my faith.
strangely, i live in a very catholic neighborhood in chicago. a neighborhood which is considered very diverse - half black and half white. although there are many interracial families here, for the most part, the white and black families do not mix. i have never felt welcome at any of the parishes in the neighborhood. sometimes i’ve actually wondered if parishoners have thought “she’s asian. does she speak english? and if she does what do i talk to her about?” (’cause white and black neighbors have actually asked me if i speak english and are really surprised when i have something in common with them)
in our area, there is only one parish among the MANY that is predominantly black. i’ve only been to mass there once. the church was welcoming and i was shocked to see the stained glass and statuary of black saints and priests - so refreshing. despite my first impressions, i couldn’t get over the feeling that i was “other”. no one made me feel this way, i just felt it… i really felt like this was a black church… that i was the one thing, not like the others… even though i was attending a catholic mass and i was catholic too. in a way, i felt like i was an invader and that i should respect them by not attending anymore.
i don’t know if there are many black catholics in chicago, but i know that november is black catholic history month. and here in chicago, a very famous (or infamous, depending on how you feel about hillary clinton) “fire and brimstone” catholic priest exists, fr. pfleger of st. sabina.
anyway, i was glad to read this post and reassurred that i’m not the only one who has made a similar journey. i hope both of our families find faith, comfort and community in their new found churches.
Posted 26 Nov 2008 at 5:08 pm ¶
ann wrote:
This reminds me of something that happened to my mom in the ’70s. She was visiting my uncle in Illinois and wanted to go to church. She had one ultimate criteria - Pentecostal. She lo0ked in the phone book and found a church. She dragged my uncle, who as a Catholic found her choice of religion to be crazy, to the service. It was black church. I know she didn’t care but she was hoping to take my uncle to a church where he didn’t feel doubly odd.
This is something I think about alot. I remember when The Promise Keepers brought this up in the ’90s as something to work against. I didn’t know it originally came from Martin Luther King Jr. But as you said, when you put your entire list down of what you want, something generally has to give because you won’t get everything you want. Unfortunately racial diversity is either not on the list or one of the least important.
At the moment my church is working for us. With 10 families in which one is Filipino, several children are adopted and we share facilities with a Korean Baptist it is probably as close to diverse as I am likely to find for my adopted Chinese daughter. But I did do some internet searches for Pentecostal Mandarin Speaking Churches. Even in LA I haven’t found any yet. But I will keep looking.
Posted 26 Nov 2008 at 6:55 pm ¶
Laura wrote:
I find this topic very interesting. I also am Catholic in a Parish with very few black Parishioners. We do have a large number of Latino Parishioners and have a seperate Mass in Spanish. The Mass is the same everywhere in the world on a particular day, same readings, same order of the Mass, but the worship style in the Spanish Mass is much more, uh, energetic or flamboyant or whatever the correct term is. We also have a teen Mass that is much more relaxed with a lot more singing than the other Masses. I guess we are lucky to have it all in one place.
Posted 26 Nov 2008 at 6:58 pm ¶
jenx67 wrote:
A day does not go by - let alone a Sunday - when I do not squirm about church. I have yet to gather my thoughts about this any concisive, relative manner. They are disjointed and devastating. Like the comment I left on your blog, I am stunned some Sundays by the most outrageous, though simple thoughts. Why are there no gays at my church? Why does Sunday remain segregated? The church is not for the maintenance of salvation. It’s primary purpose - to bring the message of Christ to those who do not know him. But, it’s mostly about maintenance, it seems. It feels like a club - the Elks Lodge, only with offering plates and crosses, choruses, and an occasional old hymn for good measure. I try not to be so pompous or self-righteous, but it’s discouraging.
As a note of interest, my father pastored a Black Nazarene church in the 1950s. That period of time in his life - among his fondest. I wish I’d been around then.
Posted 27 Nov 2008 at 12:00 pm ¶
Anonymous wrote:
@ann
It might be hard to find a Mandarin Pentacostal Church in L.A. proper, but if you are willing to drive, perhaps the San Gabriel Valley (Arcadia, Monterey Park, etc.) has better offerings because it is home to several Chinese Communities.
@ mamazilla
I am Catholic too from a liberation theology perspective. My parents have preferred Jesuit priests as well. It can be a challenge to find a church that suits all your needs.
Posted 29 Nov 2008 at 11:41 am ¶
cloudscome wrote:
I grew up Presbyterian and for many years we went to a Christian Reformed Church where I felt odd because I was WASP instead of Dutch. Now I am Episcopalian and have a couple of African American sons. I searched to find an integrated Episcopal church near our home.
I’ve been part of many churches over the years and now feel blessed to be part of a diverse congregation where Jesus is worshiped, the gospel is lived and the community is strong. I never felt comfortable in segregated, all white churches. It’s definitely worth searching and working to avoid that.
Posted 30 Nov 2008 at 3:52 pm ¶
deesha wrote:
Thanks, all, for sharing your “church stories.” Of course now I’m in the middle of reading Brian McLaren’s “A Generous Orthodoxy” and in the context of that book, my “church shopping” feels so very tacky. Alas, life!
Posted 01 Dec 2008 at 7:33 am ¶
Tracey wrote:
Deesha, funny you should mention Brain McLaren. I actually attend Cedar Ridge Community Church, the church he founded about 27 years ago. I grew up only sporadically attending church, but when we went, it was all black. As an adult, I spent 10 years at a nearly all white Presbyterian church that spoke to my head, but not really my heart. When I became a parent, I decided that while it may ahve bee fine for me to be one of the only brown faces at church, I didn’t want that for my daughter who will have enough differences to deal with as an adoptee and child of a single mom. I found a great multiethnic nondenomiantional church for a couple of years, but that church folded. After some church shopping, I ended up at McLaren’s church. It is multiethnic, reaches me spiritually and intellectually, and has a great children’s program.
Posted 01 Dec 2008 at 8:59 pm ¶
m dot wrote:
i don’t know. i doubt my honesty on this topic will be well supported in this platform, but i’m black and i like my predominantly black church. cultural experience and expectation informs the worship style and there’s a certain style of praise and worship that i like.
i pretend my race and cultural background don’t matter as to not rock the boat or offend anyone at work and in class 6 other days of the week. give me my black church and brunch sunday so that i can make it through those 6 days, please!
i’m the “only” in so many other places: at work, at school… sometimes it’s just nice to be with people who look like you. like dang… can i worship in peace without feeling like i’m a part of some pervasive racist conspiracy?
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 2:40 pm ¶
Wayne Park wrote:
“But were we having meaningful interactions outside of church? Were we having cross-cultural/racial exchanges that brought us up short and built community? Or were we simply congratulating ourselves on being so very diverse?”
Precisely.
I’ve heard Caucasian Christians criticizing ethnic churches for not being “multi-ethnic enough” when in the end their so-called multi-ethnic experiments were really just tokenisms - no real cross-cultural work going on, just a smushing of people together.
I think the Christian faith embodies more of an idea of “trans-culturalism” than multi-culturalism. It’s not about a melting pot as much as it is about going to the other who is alien, different from you. Multiethnic churches might fall short in actually not trying hard enough to go to the “other”, and complacently enjoying the sea of “colored faces” that show up every Sunday morning. Nothing shatters this notion more than a correct understanding of the Christian faith.
And to add to your opening reference to MLK, he was a preacher par excellance. His letters from a Birmingham jail convey with force the implicit guilt of the average Sunday church goer in the evil of racism.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 2:49 pm ¶
mamazilla wrote:
as an aside and somewhat related… this post made me think about anne lamotte’s book “operating instructions” where she chronicles her life as a bay area drug addict, who becomes pregnant, keeps the baby and overcomes the addiction with the help of her patchwork faith and the support of a predominantly black presbyterian church that she “stumbles” upon in her area. i think it a very inspiring story that i think any parent can relate to.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 3:08 pm ¶
KPL wrote:
Hi Deesha, thank you for writing your article. I’m Black, I was raised Catholic, and - we went to a predominantly Black (and some Latino, a few white) Church. After much Spiritual exploration in my adult life, and attending a great non-denominational Black church (when I lived in NY), I now attend a great Church of God in Christ Church (now that I live in LA), because I love the feeling of the church. Although I loved the principles learned by being raised Catholic, I also felt a cultural disconnect because there was nothing to validate me as a Black person (with all of the leanings toward White and Italian imagery). I believed, even as a kid, that the soul gave us a common thread, and that no one race had dibs on it. Church is cultural as well as spiritual. It’s not just about the rules we choose to govern our souls, but about the movement we want to create in our lives, and the lives of others. I feel that the Black community and youth still need great leadership and role models, and the church I belong to helps me to be a part of that. But it’s in my friendships and close relationships where I choose diversity - we are Latino, West Indian, English, Jewish, Vietnamese, White, and mixtures thereof - and we invite each other to worship together at times. I believe that true diversity comes from honoring one’s differences.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 3:23 pm ¶
Lee wrote:
As a white Christian and member of a predominately white church in a predominately white neighborhood (though this is changing), it’s easy for me not to struggle with this issue and just be comfortable with the sameness of the other people at church. There have been times when our church has made an effort to be more “multi-cultural”, but it has felt, as Wayne points out above, like a token effort. I don’t really know what would make a true multi-cultural church though. Is it the music? Do we worship with in the style of hát chầu văn to attract our Vietnamese neighbors and then alternate to “white” Christian top 10 music? Do we need a quota so that our congregation exactly reflects the area resistents? I don’t know.
I’ve noticed, for no effort on my part, that there have been more minorities attending the church lately; it’s been a natural, gradual thing. This is because, I hope, that our church is simply welcoming to anyone who wants to come.
This is a complicated issue and I’m not sure I really know where I stand on it. I just know that we are supposed to reach out to others, regardless of race.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 3:45 pm ¶
alex wrote:
Great article Deesha! I am a proud parent of two African American children. We have always sought out black Catholic parishes where the blend of African American worship and Catholicism is unique–I disagree with Andrea’s first post. We have worshipped in African American Catholic congregations in three major cities and every city is still segregated on Sunday. African American Catholics have spoken extensively about the difference it makes to be in a parish that celebrates African Americans and their faith tradition. Whenever we attend predominantly white Catholic churches, we get rubber-necked stares from every direction. When I attended mass the day after the election with my children at their Catholic school, the Jesuit pastor had nothing to say about the historic election! complete silence! His silence speaks volumes in this city. In contrast, when we attended mass the Sunday following the election, the pastor at the African American parish celebrated the historic moment during the homily and the following Sunday he openly discussed the racism experienced by members in their workplaces (in this predominantly Catholic city). this was the first time I ever heard a white pastor acknowledge the fact of racism in our society in church. While I love Catholic spirituality and the mass, fact is that the U.S. Catholic Church, despite beautiful pastoral letters to the contrary, is racist.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 4:30 pm ¶
deesha wrote:
M Dot: Here’s an article I found interesting in which one person is quoted as echoing your call for a “racial timeout on Sunday”:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/08/04/segregated.sundays/index.html
Tracey: What a small world! My boyfriend lives in your area and when I read about that church on the back cover blurb I made a mental note to visit next time I’m in the area.
Wayne: Like James Baldwin’s essays, MLK’s writings are ones I like to revisit at different ages and stages in my life. Each time, I glean something new.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 5:03 pm ¶
jamilah wrote:
i grew up presbyterian, which is a factor of lutheran-ism. the church i went to was all black. i also went to a lutheran school (which was mostly black but had white instructors) for a few years. growing up, i always preferred going to the black baptist churches…
i have also been to catholic churches, gay churches, churches where i was the only brown face, and churches where there was only one or two white faces…
as someone else mentioned here, i think that even though the purpose is for everyone to ‘praise god’, there is some sort of level where people want to feel culturally comfortable. in my experiences ‘multiculural’ churches don’t have the same feel as all-or predominately black churches. there’s something missing. perhaps someone elses’ experiences have been different.
i stopped attending church services when i was still a teenager; i didn’t understand the hypocracy of claiming to live by god’s word, then using judgement and giving tithes in order maintain a ‘building fund’.
i am of the philosophy that god (if you will) is within all of us, so i do not fear him or her, because we are with her. we all have something to learn from one another. if we lived with love in our hearts outside of a building (which is not really the church), the question is whether or not this will translate INSIDE the building. the true church does not stop when monday rolls around. the body is the temple; that is the true church.
to me, who you ‘worship’ with inside a building and how you live your life outside of it are mutually exclusive; since what goes on inside the building usually has a cultural reference. because i choose to be with all black people inside does not mean i don’t interact with other people with respect outside.
Posted 02 Dec 2008 at 6:21 pm ¶
Bill Drayton wrote:
I am committed to racial reconciliation, especially since my family were amongst the first settlers to the Carolina colony way back in the 1680s, and also kept slaves for 180 years. As a Christian, who seeks to follow Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour, knowing that there is nothing I can do to prove His love for either me or anyone else, I wrestle with the fact that my ancestors who were faithful churchgoers and considered themselves good Christian people saw nothing wrong in supporting the evil system of chattel slavery, whereby they treated fellow human beings, like themselves made in the image of God, as property. Discrimination and racism is still with us today - even in the churches!!! This is an abomination to God Himself. I hope and pray that with the election of Barack Obama as President we will see a faster momentum towards racial integration in the Christian church in the USA. We need to learn from each other’s stories, so that we can find healing from the trauma, associated with the legacy of slavery.
I would suggest you look at the following website - http://www.comingtothetable.org.
God bless,
Bill drayton.
Posted 03 Dec 2008 at 6:55 am ¶
Diane McKinley wrote:
I invite Deesha Philyaw and others to check out the Baha’i Faith - http://www.bahai.us. And being that Deesha lives in Pittsburgh, Pa., here is the website for the Baha’is in Pittsburgh - http://www.bci.org/pittsburghbahai/.
Posted 03 Dec 2008 at 9:13 am ¶
deesha wrote:
Thanks, Bill and Diane, for the links!
Posted 03 Dec 2008 at 10:47 am ¶
PureGracefulTree wrote:
Thank you for this post, Deesha. It’s taken me a while to respond, because the racism I experienced at my former church is at the heart of my anti-racism journey and the wounds from those incidents are still what fuel my passion for this work.
I’m not a Christian; I belong to the Unitarian Universalist faith, which includes among its guiding principles the inherent worth and dignity of every person, acceptance of one another, and the goal of world community. These are the values that UUs purport to share, not a common belief in a particular god or gods. And yet, most of our congregations are very white. Clearly, it’s not enough simply to say that we wish to be multiracial and multicultural.
I think one reason white churches remain white is an attitude of assumed superiority. “We have something really great here, if people of color don’t want to join us, they’re the ones with the problem.” There isn’t a whole lot of attention paid to worship style or music or the religious authorities we look to, how they are based upon Western traditions and are largely exclusive of other cultures. (And don’t even get me started on why Jesus is always portrayed as white, though he most definitely wasn’t.) It takes deep humility and commitment to difficult introspection to see the hidden ways in which we are exclusive. When it comes down to it, we have an element of choice in our churches, just like we have with our friends, and we almost always exercise the choice in a way that maximizes our comfort—i.e. being with people much like ourselves.
Though I’ve never experienced an Asian church (there probably aren’t enough Asian UUs in the country to fill a congregation), I understand the desire to worship in an environment free from the racism that one must experience the other 6.5 days of the week. It’s a difficult balance between wanting to have a safe, comfortable community and wanting spiritual growth, which always involves some element of discomfort.
Everything I’ve read and experienced on this subject indicates to me that churches do not become multiracial, multiethnic, or multicultural unless they do so very, very intentionally. And when that intention is there, it must be reinforced as a matter of faith, to keep people on all sides from slipping back into their comfort zones. A racially diverse church is not the goal; it is evidence that we have reached our goal. I’ve seen very few churches that meet this description, but they are truly glorious places. One day, I hope to be a part of one.
Posted 05 Dec 2008 at 3:06 am ¶