Thursday, September 6, 2018

Expressions of Faith: Black Church, White Church, Style, Substance, and Ways Forward



Today we again consider our spiritual practices.  Given the role of the church in the African American experience, race and religion often become entangled.  Presently, we examine our history with the black church and where we stand with it now.

Woodson’s ideas
Which way America:  The black church and liberation theology, or the white church and maintenance of a segregated society?  Perhaps the multi-ethnic church?  Should homogeneous black and white churches become relics?  I see a compelling case for the proposition they both should.

My family and I belong to Mosaic Church of Central Arkansas, a multi-ethnic, socio- economically diverse church in Little Rock.  Henry, who worships at all-black Alfred Street Baptist Church in Alexandria, Virginia, recently sent me a recording of a sermon by his pastor, Rev. Dr. Howard-John Wesley.  Rev. Wesley’s sermon content and how he connected scripture to a call for compassion and justice for the marginalized caused me to think about the history of the black church, its role in the struggle for social justice, and my personal history with the black Baptist church.

Though my faith is rooted in the black Baptist church, I left after fifty years to join Mosaic.  Why?  I now believe the multi-ethnic, socio-economically diverse church represents the last, best hope for solving America’s racial problems.  We will solve many of America’s other problems only when we solve her racial problems.

In 1903, W.E.B. DuBois wrote that “the problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line – the relation of the darker to the lighter races of men in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea.”  The color line remains the problem even into the twenty-first century.  I now believe we can’t solve the problem of race in this country until men and women of different racial, ethnic, and national backgrounds learn to worship together.  Only then will we learn to work together.  As Bryan Stevenson, founder and Executive Director of the
Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, Alabama suggests, magical things occur by putting people in proximity of each other.  We learn from each other.  We “de-other” others.  We see common humanity.  This is the core of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  While teaching the redemptive power of that gospel, Mosaic relentlessly pursues social justice – feeding the hungry, mentoring inner city children, providing immigration services, and more.

As much as black spirituals and black prophetic preaching still resonate with me, I willingly sacrifice that cultural preference in order to help the church overcome racial, ethnic, cultural, and socio-economic divisions.

Participating in a multi-ethnic church often requires giving up central cultural preferences associated with historical worship experiences – “ethno-sectarian identity” if practiced in Iraq, Afghanistan, or Pakistan.  It is the same here and just as destructive.  Being a part of a diverse church like Mosaic, with its United Nations flavor, requires sacrificing cultural preferences by all worshipers.  That sacrifice elevates the culture of Christ above all contrary “ethno-sectarian” cultures, and allows practicing the true gospel, calling men and women of diverse backgrounds to worship, walk, and work together as one.

Henry’s thoughts
As I’ve said in a previous post referencing religion, I prefer expressing my love in a place where diversity reigns and understanding abounds.  So, Woodson has it right, and I cannot disagree with him.  I believe, however, the realities of
Alfred Street Baptist Church
today do not always make that personal choice practical.  As long as ministries focusing on the black community remain essential to the spiritual, material, and social needs of many black people, the “black church” (though usually open to all ethnicities) remains where I find fulfillment.  The community service these churches render demonstrates the continuing need for such places.  Perhaps those needs will be met in the future in other ways but, for now, I find an Alfred Street Baptist Church the kind of place where my needs, and the needs of the communities it serves, blend harmoniously.

Rob’s View
I’m not speechless in response to Woodson’s missive about the cultural aspects of expressing faith.  I’m seldom speechless about anything.  But, I can’t add much.  His approach emanates from a place of high moral and spiritual virtue.  Woodson, in effect, says multi-ethnic worship serves his fellow human beings.  That service, not stylistic presentation, matters most.  It strikes me if religion doesn’t promote such service, it’s really not worth much.

I come from a similar, if not identical, faith tradition as my co-authors (the black Methodist church, not Baptist).  I’ve gone a different direction, coming to rest in progressive Christianity as practiced in some Unitarian Universalist churches and in the United Church of Christ.  By involving myself in these mostly white denominations, I stated that whatever cultural affinity I once had for the black church, it took a back seat to the theology I found in my new spiritual homes.  Woodson makes a similar statement with his commitment to the theology of the multi-ethnic church.  He finds his “true gospel” in the “United Nations” of his church’s makeup, as I’ve found mine in progressive Christianity.  I believe the proper response to both our paths is:  AMEN!

Thursday, August 23, 2018

ROB AND HIS DAUGHTERS: AN OLD FAMILY TRADITION



We’ve written about parenting, describing the highs and lows of raising 13 children between us. Presently, Rob relates a long standing tradition in his family. 

The Method to Our Madness
On a recent warm summer night in the Kansas City suburbs, I sat hunched around the kitchen table of a hotel suite with my three daughters, poring over a scratch-off map of the United
States revealing the states and cities we’d visited as a quartet with the scrape of a quarter across the gold coating. It was opening night of our annual Daughter’s Weekend, two uninterrupted days devoted to father-daughter bonding. Our first activity was plotting the places we’d gone to in the 23 years we’ve carried on this tradition (ten states, 12 cities it turned out). Figuring out where we’d traveled let each of us reflect on the meaning of our yearly meetings to each other and to our family life.    

In the mid-90s, I pondered the reality of having three daughters from two marriages who lived in different places. A significant age gap separated them.  One was in college and the other two had just passed toddlerhood. I’d read plenty about the benefit to girls of developing strong relationships with their fathers – fewer teen pregnancies, less involvement with drugs, fewer entanglements in abusive intimate relationships. I wanted those things for my girls, though I knew no magic bullet existed. I could do everything right and things still might go to hell in a handbasket. 

What did I do? To make a long story short, I borrowed a practice from my wife’s family and made some adjustments. Ida and her three younger sisters occasionally headed off on jaunts they called “Sisters Weekend.” Husbands, boyfriends, and children weren’t invited. The Stewart sisters said these excursions helped them forge stronger bonds with each other. Could my daughters and I do something similar and get the same benefit? 

Being the way I am, I made up some rules:
  • We’d alternate between weekends at home (Houston) and taking trips.
  • This would be an annual event everyone could buy into and count on.
  • We’d share responsibilities. At home, each person would have meal preparation, clean-up duty, or a planning job, depending on maturity. On trips, while I paid for virtually everything in the early years, once the daughters grew up and became gainfully employed, we split meals, lodging, and entertainment, roughly according to ability to pay.
  • Trips would feature educational activities, not just entertainment, meaning museums and cultural centers as well as ball games and shows.
  •   No wives or brothers allowed.
  •  No work! I couldn’t draft briefs and motions and the girls had to finish their school work pre-trip.

I didn’t know if (a) the girls would buy into my idea or (b) if it would help in creating bonds between each of them and me or between them as sisters. When we started in 1996 at home in Houston, I hoped it would become a longstanding tradition, but I had no more than that – hope. 

Our Greatest Hits
Over the years we generally maintained that 1-1 ratio of home events to trips, though we make more trips now. We’ve seen some of America’s most intriguing cities,
2017 New Orleans-Left to Right: Murriel, Rob, Shaun, Kathryn
including New Orleans, Kansas City, Chicago, Denver, and Nashville. We’ve been to a remote lake resort (Wisconsin), taken college tours (Arkansas and North Carolina), visited museums (the Field Museum in Chicago, World War II in New Orleans, Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Negro League Baseball in Kansas City, Crystal Bridges in Bentonville, Arkansas), and been entertained by comedians, dancers, and singers all over. We’ve eaten great meals (Emeril’s Delmonico in New Orleans, Arthur Bryant’s Barbeque in Kansas City), and scrounged for late night snacks. 

Did it Work?  You Bet it Did!
My daughters, Shaun, Murriel, and Kathryn and I don’t have perfect relationships, either father-daughter or sister-sister. We have disagreements, arguments, and spats with each other and occasionally about each other. We all have bones we could pick with each other. 

But nobody got into serious trouble and all three graduated from reputable colleges (Miami, Arkansas, Clemson/Cal-Berkeley). All have been gainfully employed during their adult lives. None depend on me or society. We’ve all chipped in to help each other from time to time, but no one requires more than the normal love and support good family members give each other. I’d call each a cherished friend and a loving daughter. 

Daughter’s Weekend doesn’t get credit for all that, of course. It is one weekend a year. The day-to-day work of their mothers, brothers, teachers, spiritual communities, and their own character played bigger roles in creating the good people my daughters have become.

I’ll always believe, though, another thing played a part -- the time I spent with them on those weekends, when they had my undivided attention and when nothing distracted them from feeling my love for them or theirs for me and for each other.

At the end of that Kansas City visit, as we piled into the car for the trip to the airport, Murriel asked, “Where are we going next year?”
“Atlanta, maybe?” Kathryn offered, scanning the rest of us.
“Fine with me,” I said, putting luggage into the trunk.
“Me too,” Shaun said. “Long live Daughters Weekend!”  
 
2016 Chicago - Left to Right:Rob, Shaun, Murriel,  Kathryn