A Reflection on Frederick Douglass

A Mississippi Boy’s Reflection on Frederick Douglass on Christians in "The slaveholding religion and the Christianity of Christ.”

I find, since reading over the foregoing Narrative, that I have, in several instances, spoken in such a tone and manner, respecting religion, as may possibly lead those unacquainted with my religious views to suppose me an opponent of all religion. To remove the liability of such misapprehension, I deem it proper to append the following brief explanation. What I have said respecting and against religion, I mean strictly to apply to the "slave holding religion" of this land, and with no possible reference to Christianity proper; for, between the Christianity of this land, and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference--so wide, that to receive the one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked. To be the friend of the one, is of necessity to be the enemy of the other. I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slave holding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land. Indeed.

I can see no reason, but the most deceitful one, for calling the religion of this land Christianity. I look upon it as the climax of all misnomers, the boldest of all frauds, and the grossest of all libels. Never was there a clearer case of "stealing the livery of the court of heaven to serve the devil in." I am filled with unutterable loathing when I contemplate the religious pomp and show, together with the horrible inconsistencies, which every where surround me. We have men-stealers for ministers, women whippers for missionaries, and cradle-plunderers for church members.

The man who wields the blood clotted cowskin during the week fills the pulpit on Sunday, and claims to be a minister of the meek and lowly Jesus. The man who robs me of my earnings at the end of each week meets me as a class-leader on Sunday morning, to show me the way of life, and the path of salvation. He who sells my sister, for purposes of prostitution, stands forth as the pious advocate of purity. He who proclaims it a religious duty to read the Bible denies me the right of learning to read the name of the God who made me. He who is the religious advocate of marriage robs whole millions of its sacred influence, and leaves them to the ravages of wholesale pollution. The warm defender of the sacredness of the family relation is the same that scatters whole families,--sundering husbands and wives, parents and children, sisters and brothers,--leaving the hut vacant, and the hearth desolate. We see the thief preaching against theft, and the adulterer against adultery.

We have men sold to build churches, women sold to support the gospel, and babes sold to purchase Bibles for the POOR HEATHEN! ALL FOR THE GLORY OF GOD AND THE GOOD OF SOULS! The slave auctioneer's bell and the church-going bell chime in with each other, and the bitter cries of the heart-broken slave are drowned in the religious shouts of his pious master. Revivals of religion and revivals in the slave-trade go hand in hand together. The slave prison and the church stand near each other. The clanking of fetters and the rattling of chains in the prison, and the pious psalm and solemn prayer in the church, may be heard at the same time. The dealers in the bodies and souls of men erect their stand in the presence of the pulpit, and they mutually help each other. The dealer gives his blood-stained gold to support the pulpit, and the pulpit, in return, covers his infernal business with the garb of Christianity. Here we have religion and robbery the allies of each other --devils dressed in angels' robes, and hell presenting the semblance of paradise.

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Institutional Racism is real! The reality that Frederick Douglass so tragically reflects upon makes me want to cry. It leaves me feeling hopeless. Yes, he was pointing to a reality that happened over 100 years ago, but it is still a reality that is the foundation of Christianity in the West. What he points too still happens and we need not ignore the modern day slavery and racism that is inherent in the church and in our society. How do we recognize it when most of us want to deny the fact that racism still happens? How do we recognize it when we are so deeply entrenched in a system that only accepts people of color (those who are not "white" - which is a messy concept in itself) when they act "white"? I am convicted. White guilt? Yes! And I don't think in this instance that white guilt is wrong, because I need to feel guilty. We all need to feel guilty, because we are all guilty of wanting to tame dark bodies into white bodies. Isn't that what Christianity and America was founded upon: White men, creating a nation on the backs of others who just happen to have dark bodies? Why is being white the only way to God? Last time I checked, Christ was the way to the Father! That is what I was “taught” in word, but that was not always what was portrayed by people’s actions. I may piss people off by this statement, but hey, I’m used to pissing people off.

Growing up I worshipped in a White church, went to a White school, and learned about a White Jesus and salvation was bound up in this White Jesus. Being black was a disease. The N word was one that I heard often (albeit, not in my family), in church, in social circles, and in my school. Salvation was bound up in being acting “white”, for God was portrayed as the White Master who was overlooking his slaves and striking us down every time we did something wrong. It’s taken me a long time to readjust my vision and look at God as the Compassionate God who is revealed to us as a servant in the person of Christ. Yes, it’s in the past, and I’ve tried to move on, and I don’t want to beat a dead horse. However, I’m confused, and I’m worried about future generations and the church.

In general, why are we afraid of those who are not like us? Us being white Christians. That seems to be the norm. Why do we fear the other? Why do we fear those who have black skin? It happened in the 60’s when integration was forced in the public schools. People were fundamentally opposed and downright “un-Christian” in their reaction to integration. Why? What were we afraid of?

In my school and church, I’ve heard people talk about the “N*****S”. Why do we even say that word? Why do we think it is wrong for black people to act out? Hell, we suppressed and oppressed them for over 5 centuries in the west (actually longer if you look at Christianity and conquest and consumption of black bodies)!

Why do we think that black people are less than us? not as smart as us? not as beautiful as us? not marriageable? Not as “Christian” as us? not as “right” as us?

So, I guess my point is this. Why do we, as Christians and as the church, not see in “the other” the inherent humanness that we are all people and creatures of God? We are all connected to each other because we were all made in the image of GOD! Whether you like it or not, anyone who is not like you is made in the same image as you, and that image is the Imago Dei. Get used to it! Notice it! Live in it! Love it! Respect It! Because in reality, when you disrespect another person, when you hate another person, when you offend another person, you not only offend them, but you offend yourself, and ultimately you offend God. This fact does not just apply to those who are black. It applies to anyone in society who is on the margin and who is outside of the norm, and Christianity has struck out.

We need to repent. We need to voice that we got it wrong. We need to voice that the church got it wrong. We need to fall on our knees and ask Jesus that we take the form of a servant and that we serve those, who in the past and present, were expected to serve us. We need to recognize that the Triune God dwells in the midst of all of God’s creatures. We need to love with a non-judgmental love and not ask of other’s what we would not do ourselves. We need to have compassion and view others through the lens and eyes of Christ, and if we do this, maybe, then maybe the world will be transformed. Yes I’m venting, and yes I’m not even sure what the solution is, but I do know that we are called to Love those who we do not want to love and that we need to come to the Table with them. We need to eat with those who do not look like us. We need to disrupts systems and act out and shake up the norm. We need to keep our eyes on the crucified Christ that was killed because he spoke out against the norm, he crossed boundaries, he ate with those who were the social outcasts, and he himself, was one who would have been one who could have not gotten into my “Christian” school. He could not have gotten into my “church”. He would have, in fact, probably been called and labeled a, “n….r.”

The Canaanite Woman: A Reflection on Matthew 15:21-28

**Disclaimer** I do use derogatory language to make my point, not to offend anyone...

Before I talk about What Jesus is doing in the story of the Canaanite woman, or what Jesus is doing for me in this story, I want to start with the Canaanite woman herself. She is one of my heroes! Let us for a second let her take center stage in this narrative. Here SHE is, a gentile, “the other”, who, out of unabandoned love for her own daughter, approaches the Jewish Rabbi. She comes up to this Rabbi and she asks for him to have mercy on her and to rid her daughter of this evil spirit that has taken over her. He does not answer her. He does not even acknowledge her presence. Not only is this man a Jewish Rabbi, he is surrounded by his Jewish disciples, who quite frankly, are being assholes about her presence. “She can’t be here! Get this crazy woman away from us! Why is a Canaanite woman approaching us? Jesus, do something! Anything! She is yelling crazy things. We don’t need her here! We don’t want her here!” And for some reason, the Rabbi says, “woman, I am not here for you. I am here for Israel.” But she presses forward. She does not relent. She recognizes something in the Rabbi, and in a worshipful act, she kneels before him and pleads, “Lord, I need your help.” I can hear the desperation in her voice. She is helpless and the Rabbi is the only place she has left to go. Desperation leads her to do the unthinkable. Desperation leads her to break traditional racial and gendered boundaries and to insert herself into the midst of these Jewish men. The Rabbi, who I would think should be moved by compassion, looks upon the kneeling woman and tells her that that what he has is for his own. It is not for her, the pagan, the gentile, the Canaanite, the “other.” She is nothing but a Bitch and she is not even deserving of his children’s food. This is when I think I would have run away. This is when I think I would have been like, “you know what? I am done with this Rabbi. This is not even worth it!” Yet, to her, it was completely worth it! She was here not for herself, but for her daughter. This is why she is my hero. She looks at the Rabbi and gives it back to him. “I may be a Bitch, but bitches like me have eaten crumbs that have come from the children’s tables.”

What just happened?

Did this woman, this outsider, this unwelcome one in the midst of Jewish men, just talk back to the Rabbi? In a move that could have proved costly and gotten her killed in some circles, this woman busted through boundaries that existed to keep her out. This woman looked into the Rabbi’s eyes and said, you may not want me here, but I am here, and I need you, and I will not give up! The Rabbi finally gives in. The Rabbi even does the unthinkable as he grants this beautiful, unrelenting, passionate, woman her wish. He heals her daughter and acknowledges the fact that she had great faith. This woman is my hero because she, an outsider, was moved by LOVE, to help her daughter, a possessed girl, and she did not hesitate to break boundaries to seek wholeness and healing from this Rabbi who had been known to perform miracles before. This Canaanite woman, who herself was a marginalized person, acted on behalf of another marginalized person, and busted through boundaries to seek healing. She was not deterred when the disciples made it known that her presence was a nuisance. She did not deter when the Rabbi called her a derogatory name. She pushed forward and she persisted! She broke down racial and gendered barriers in the name of love. She persisted in the midst of seeming hate, and in the end, the Rabbi granted her the request she had brought before him.

She is my hero because I want to be her. In our churches we have seen so many people marked as “other” because of their race, their economic status, their gender, their sexuality, their ethnicity, and we have seen religious leaders and their followers be downright hateful and call them names such as, “Nigger, Bitch, Wetback, Faggot, Poor white trash” and many of us have backed down. Why? It is hard to face these realities in the church. People who are called to wholeness and healing calling us these names? It is easier to run away then to try to break down barriers. But the Canaanite woman did not back down. She did not run away. She kept on pressing this Rabbi and his followers until the Rabbi saw in her the sacred worth that comes along with being created by the Divine Creator. It was her courage that won the day. It was her courage that should move us. Yes the Rabbi declared that her daughter was healed, but it was only because of her persistence, love, and desperate abandon. Yes the Rabbi would eventually break all the powers of evil in the world, and he would claim final victory over sin and death, but right now, I am appealing to the Canaanite woman. Why? Because she is my hero in this story.

Stories.....

This semester I am taking a class on sexuality and the focus in the class is on homosexuality. Yesterday we had our first class and I was nervous about being in there. The issue is one that is so volatile and I wasn’t sure what people’s thought processes on the class were going to be and I went in not sure how the professors were going to approach the class. After the professors went over the syllabus and explained the class, Dean Wells explained that all 40 or so of us in the room were going to “bring a person into the room” that we were thinking about at that moment. The rationale was that we are all in this class for a reason, and there had to be someone we were thinking of. In order to protect those in the class who identify as LGBTQ, and those who might be questioning their own sexuality, the story could be in third person (if someone was taking the class for themselves). But Dean Wells really stressed that the person to bring into the room was someone who dealt with the issue of sexuality (particularly homosexuality). It was an amazing experience. Each person told a minute long story about someone they knew that was either lesbian, gay, affirming, non-affirming, and all the stories were powerful. Some people wanted to bring someone into the room that reacted out of fear and hate to people who had come out to them. Some people wanted to bring into the room those they had shunned because of their sexual orientation. Others wanted to bring those into the room that had died of aids. Others wanted to bring into the room those who had been shunned and cast out of the church. It was a powerful 40 minutes.

In thinking about the whole sharing time, I am reminded of the young man I brought into the room. He is a friend of mine and I have seen him grow up. He loves God and is committed to his faith in a way that is rarely seen. Last year he “came out” to me after a pastor had spat out hate speech from a pulpit. The anguish, hurt, and pain in his eyes tore my heart apart. I literally could not sleep that night. The pain he shared with me was deep, but it was this pain that often times led him closer to Christ. No, it wasn’t always easy, and yes he’d questioned a lot of things, but instead of running away from God, he ran into God’s loving arms, even when some in the Christian circle had told him that he could change. So, I wanted to bring him into the room. I wanted him to know that there were faithful people who would love him and cherish him for who he is.

The other story that stuck out to me was that of one of my friends. In the midst of her tears, she told a story about her cousin. The earliest memory she had of him was at his funeral. He wasn’t someone that her family talked about that much. She had seen pictures of him growing up and asked her mom who he was and her mom told her that it was her cousin. It wasn’t until later in life that she was told that her cousin had died of aids. It wasn’t something the family talked about. At the end of her story she said, “I wish I would have known him, because I would have loved him.” This is my friend’s reflection on why she brought her cousin into the room. “I thought about the question and thought about who I could 'bring into the room.' Who was I there for? Sure there were a lot of people that had influenced my decision on the course. But it was when I realized that I was there for the person that I knew the least, knew less than my friends, less than my sisters, it was when I realized that it was for Ronnie, that I cried."

She wasn’t the only person who was moved by tears in class. Many of us were. As we brought all of these people into the room, there was an overwhelming sense that the Holy Spirit was present with us. We were listening to people’s stories. We were listening to stories of joys and pains and insecurities and fears. We were listening to each other. It reminded me of a story by Sandy Sasso entitled, “God in Between”. In this story, Sasso talks about how God dwells in the midst of people as they listen to each other’s stories. It is a beautiful book and it is a beautiful sentiment. The Triune God dwells in the midst of narrative. God dwells between each of us as we tell our stories. In class, I felt the incarnational God that radically dwells in the world as the stories were told. I knew that God was present. What if this is what we did in our churches? What if we actually took time to listen to each other? What if we truly listened to people’s stories before we got defensive? What if we invoked those into our worship spaces that are excluded? What if we not only invoked them in stories, but actually allowed them to come into our churches to share their stories? Some are not ready to hear the stories of God’s beautiful children, but some are. I pray that we would become a people, a church, a community that took the time to listen to stories of not only LGBTQ persons, but to all those people that we exclude from our midst. I pray that we become a church that allows our radically incarnational God to manifest herself in our presence. If we did, the church would be different and our communities would be different. So let us listen to each other’s stories. Let us listen to the stories of those who are excluded. Let us encounter the radically incarnational God that calls us to live lives that are radically incarnational in a broken and hurting world, and hopefully we will be transformed by her radical and abundant grace.

Ruth or Orpah

As I was reading the story of Ruth and Naomi I was trying to think of who I identified with the most. This was hard for me because I am a male and there is a theme of patriarchy that is explicit in the story of Ruth and Naomi, as there needs to be a kinsmen redeemer in order for Ruth and Naomi to be taken care of. But, as I was pondering the reactions of Orpah and Ruth, I felt like I most identified with Ruth. This is because she left everything she knew, to go with Naomi, even when she did not have too. Maybe I identify with this, because I often want to be her. I want to be able to forsake everything that I have been in order to go to new places. I have done this before. Well, sort of. After I graduated from college, I left everything I had known and moved to New Jersey. I knew no one up there. I had little money and resources available to me, and yet, I moved. I did not really forsake anyone back home, because my family and close friends supported me and my decision through financial support and prayer. However, I move to unknown lands, to do unknown things. It was an experience that changed my life in ways I will never understand. For the first time in my life, I was away from everything I had known, and I encountered the Triune God in ways I never thought possible. I encountered God in the people who I would have never had conversations with if I would have still been in my middle class Mississippi setting. I encountered God because for the first time in my life, I was the minority. I encountered God because for the first time in my life, I hung out with drug dealers who were not rich, white, suburban kids selling their parents prescription drugs. It was wonderful and a time in my life that I never want to forget. But yet, I did not dedicate my whole life to this. I wish I could have forsaken everything and moved permanently, just as Ruth forsook all she had known and moved into an entirely different land with entirely different people then her own.

So, I identify with Ruth somewhat, but not entirely. I think she challenges me to be a person who is willing to give up everything to go to other people. So many times, we expect people to come to us and to assimilate to our cultures and our ways of live. This is antithetical to the gospel and antithetical to the incarnation. If we are truly Incarnational people, I believe that we are to go to others in love, to live with them, know them, love them, walk with them, no matter where they find themselves. We are often times called to forsake the things we have known, so that we can serve the Triune God by loving others. So, I want to identify with Ruth more in this aspect. There was no question that she was going to follow Naomi, no matter where that took her, and that is a scary, yet beautiful thing.

classes have started

So. I don't blog that much anymore... I wish I did. but I will be blogging for RMNBLOG.ORG and also I will be blogging for a class (three posts a week).. I will upload my blog posts from these other blogs when they are written.. should be interesting. Rmn blog is on sexuality, the blog for class is on racial identity... So....... woohoo...

I wonder if people still read this...

Justin.

It's so hard to say goodbye...

So. It is the last Saturday of camp. This means that there will be much cleaning going on. Tonight we will also have our last time to meet as team small groups and we will have our last sharing time. Tomorrow we will pack up, take communion, and then head out. It's bittersweet. I am ready to be back in North Carolina, yet I am going to miss this place. I am going to miss these people. Even when I feel as if I have not done my job effectively, or the fact that I feel like some of the relationships I have formed here are shallow and only touch the surface, I know that God has blessed me tremendously. I know that I have grown. I know that I have loved, and that I have been loved through these team members and through the staff of Warren W. Willis. I will write a longer post later about camp and what i've learned and so forth and so on. but let's just say, for the kid who doesn't say goodbye, tomorrow is going to be a sad day of goodbyes.

so warren willis.

Goodbye

So long.

Farewell.

Au revoir.

how to say goodbye -p tiernan
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Compassion

Frederick Beuchner once said, "Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it's like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too."

I really wish that some in the Christian tradition would get this. Why do we choose judgment and hate over compassion, mercy, and grace. I've been thinking alot about God's Justice and God's Compassion. If God is all merciful and loving, I'm not sure how God can hate, or exclude anyone in God's Kingdom. Okay. I know God is wrathful and that God is to be feared, and that God judges, but at what point is God's Justice more restorative than retributive. If God's Justice is restorative, doesn't God's mercy and compassion win the day? If God is the God of Creation, and if God is the God who says that NOTHING (not even hell) can separate us from God's love, then why do we hold back our love from others? If God is compassionate, then doesn't God want to reach out to those who hurt, to those who are scorned, to those whom are excluded?

Again, we are called to be compassionate! We are called to enter into the skin of people who are hurting. We are called to listen to people's stories, to value their stories, to love them unconditionally, and to have compassion on them.

So God, grant that we have compassion to those on the outside. Grant that we can be at peace with one another, and that we can love one another. Grant that we would have the fatal capacity to know what it is like to be in the skin of those who suffer. Let us listen to the stories of those who are excluded, and who find themselves on the outside. Grant us peace. Grant us love. Grant us compassion.