Learning From a Missed Opportunity
Did you know that in 1970 the celebration of Black History Month in the United States extended from the beginning of the year through the end of February? Black History Month as a celebration and tool for learning has roots back into the early 20th Century, and some would say back to the time of Reconstruction. You do know that February is our shortest month of the year, but maybe like me, you need a reminder that truncating a celebration of African American history into the shortest month of the year is viewed as a dishonor, not an honor, by many. These are but a few of the things I have been learning (or relearning) this year as our staff team has been discussing Black History Month.
Over the last couple of years, we have taken a decidedly different approach to confront matters of racism and gender inequity by raising them to core principles and themes that we as a church are committed to addressing in our pursuit of justice and righteousness in the Kingdom of God. In some ways that means that we don’t overemphasize these ideas during only one month, but instead choose to build awareness of them into our church culture in our pursuit of becoming a truly beloved community. While that is good in principle, sometimes more is called for in season. And sometimes, we miss those opportunities. It reveals that we still have blind spots relative to our culture change, and it’s in the raw moments of awareness that the real work of reconciliation happens.
I set it up like that to give you a little insight into our staff team’s conversations and journey over the last couple of weeks. The blindspot in question was revealed when we were a couple of days into February and it was the first official time we had discussed doing anything for Black History Month. The lack of foresight and preparation stood in stark contrast to the amount of planning that had gone into other seasons and themes in the previous year, and frankly, it showed a great deal of disrespect for our African American brothers and sisters. The real question then became how and why did that happen?
What resulted were some heavy and very uncomfortable conversations about our commitment to what we’re preaching, learning, and teaching. It resulted in difficult conversations that were rooted in the need for true reconciliation. To be fair, those conversations are ongoing, but we’ve made some significant progress. The public result of all of this behind-the-scenes work has been that we chose not to do a whole lot to celebrate Black History Month recognizing we weren’t prepared and that it could (likely would) appear superficial, or performative. Far from our overall goal of true justice, reconciliation, and a beloved community, anything that is mere window dressing is unwelcome.
Another of my personal insights (blindspots) has been how much Black History Month has always been framed for me as learning more about the struggle for freedom. In other words, the history of African Americans remains rooted in the context of slavery. Thanks to my pastoral colleagues, and friends on social media and other places, I am seeing Black History with a fresh perspective through the lens of a celebration of culture, heritage, gifts, talents, inventions, and so much more this year. A recent post on FB declared: “They didn’t steal slaves: They STOLE scientists, doctors, architects, teachers, entrepreneurs, astronomers, fathers, mothers, sisters, daughters, etc., and made them slaves.” Yes! And, just humbling that for too long I haven’t made that connection. I am challenged to make sure that future acknowledgments of Black History Month honor and celebrate all that African Americans have accomplished as integral members of our country and history.
These kinds of insights are not ones that are easy to get from a heritage rooted solely in a Eurocentric (German/Scottish in my case), white American upbringing. And even as hard as we try to learn on our own, sometimes internalized biases frame how we approach our understanding. Those are what are called implicit biases, and we all have them. And they are what make cross-cultural learning, and collaboration so incredibly important, and difficult at the same time. They are why we so desperately need a community of many cultures, races, and languages, rubbing shoulders and learning from each other.
Justice is not really even possible until our own self-interest can be held in check. Some of the greatest teachers and philosophers would argue that keeping our self-interest in check is impossible. But, we don’t give up trying because something is hard. We press into it because we believe it’s worth it. We press into it because the people who are different from us are worth it. We press on because it’s loving and right and because our eternal destiny is rooted in this kind of diverse, just, and holistic community. None of this is easy, but we believe that as the Holy Spirit empowers us to decenter ourselves and grow in our trust in Jesus Christ, we will increasingly will His good (a.k.a. “Love Him”) and the good of others (“love them”).
The insights I’m sharing are just a drop in the bucket of the work that is required and the learning that must take place. What has been revealed to me this month is how truly far we have to go to achieve our desired dream. Thankfully, we are now much better positioned to get there, and our team remains committed to each other and to that goal in a more deeply unified way.
Along the way, we should expect that all of us will feel some of the same discomforts our staff team has felt this month. Discomfort is to be expected when we are living into culture change and rubbing shoulders with people of diverse perspectives, histories, and cultures. At New Hope, we know a little about the discomforts of worshiping in different languages and trying to communicate with language barriers. It’s not easy, but we all know how rewarding it can be as well. It’s similar when it comes to matters of racial justice, confronting gender stereotypes, and addressing poverty. I heard someone say recently that if in a multicultural setting someone is comfortable, then someone else (or a whole group of “someones”) is likely feeling alienated.
I’ll close this reflection by sharing a few things I have learned to celebrate over the years about the Black Church. I love that no matter what church I’ve ever attended that is predominantly Black, I have always been welcome. Over time, I felt more at home in contexts where I was the minority in church, and sadly, I know that my African American brothers and sisters have not, and would not in most cases feel the same in the spaces I am considered the majority. I grieve that! I also love that within the Black Church, there are no needs that are “other.” There is a collective and shared experience that binds people together in a way that says “I’m your neighbor” like few other spaces I’ve been a part of. I love the honesty, and the sense of community that exists for people to be raw, authentic, heard, and then embraced and affirmed and built back up, sometimes all in the same gathering. I hope and pray that we can embody the best parts of many cultural expressions of church, but the Black Church holds a dear place in my heart.
We as a church have a lot of ground to cover to become the beloved community. Your pastoral and staff team is doing the hard work of building our trust and foundation toward this “elusive dream.” I am thankful that we are not reliant on one month alone to draw our attention to what is really just a huge part of our American History. However, I am grateful for my brothers and sisters of African descent who are helping me to see the beauty and joy of celebrating the rich heritage and contributions of African Americans this and every month of the year.
Celebrate, and then roll up your sleeves with us and let’s keep working on building the beloved community. Thanks for being on the journey with us!
Pastor Scott