AND THE PEOPLE COULD FLY

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Today I want to lift up African American voices, and examine a little bit about racism, and the Unitarian Universalist liberal theological response to racism in the United States. The subject is vast, so we will just dip in a little.

Unitarian Universalism is one manifestation of liberal religion; and very often the cutting edge of liberal religion. Liberal religion evolves and transforms itself over and over, necessarily, because an important aspect of it is that we continually seek truth in light of new revelations, new understanding of the world, new paradigms. Another feature of liberal religion is the quest for justice and peace in the world, the wish to create a world of freedom for all. For some, liberal religion is less about what we believe, than about what we do; not the creed but the ethics are the driving force and the connecting elements; working for justice. Equally important, in liberal religion, authority is located in the individual. Each human mind, each person must seek truth for oneself, taking wisdom from scriptures of all kinds, and from experience, and from tradition, but one's own mind is the ultimate authority. We celebrate the dignity and worth and autonomy of the individual.

So how does liberal religion, and Unitarian Universalism in particular, relate to racism? We're against it! ...In theory. In the 1800s in the US, leaders of the faith spoke out against slavery, and many Unitarians and Universalists were active in the Underground Railroad, sheltering escaped slaves. But the predominant attitude was cautious, paternalistic, middle class white. William Ellery Channing, perhaps our most prominent Unitarian minister in the 1830s, and an icon of our tradition, published books and articles stating with certainty that slavery was morally wrong. However, he advocated an approach of trying to convince the slaveholders of this truth through transforming public conscience, rather than forcing emancipation on them through government or war. He declined to identify himself as an abolitionist, as that stance was far too radical for him. One of his concerns was disrupting the peace of the slaveholding states.

Furthermore, in the South, Christian churches, including many Universalist ones, supported slavery. The editor of the Evangelical Universalist in wrote 1839: "We do not admit slavery to be an evil, but the greatest blessing that ever happened to the Negro race." That kind of self-serving delusion robs both black and white of full humanity. It is no wonder the Afro-American folktale of slaves flying away to freedom arose.

How is it that a justice-loving faith can hold such racist views? We come to the problem of white privilege. Privilege is essential to the structure of oppression, and yet it is almost invisible to the holders of it. The privileged white person is often completely unaware of their privilege, unaware of the power dynamics in this society regarding the myth that we call race. I call race a myth because biologically, there are no racial divisions; race is entirely a social construction. It is a myth with very real consequences in our lives.

More radical theological thinking, such as liberation theology, challenges liberal theology and religion as unable to respond meaningfully to oppression. Liberation theology arose out of South America in about the 1960s, and was also advanced at that time in the U.S. by theologians such as James Cone, an African American professor at Union Theological Seminary. The charge is that those practicing liberal religion are mostly middle and upper class people, and our privileged place in the world is threatened by egalitarian revolution. Critics suggest that liberal religion seeks a just and fair world in theory, in the future, and for now gives alms to the poor, while remaining comfortable in our places of privilege.

In Black Pioneers in a White Denomination, black UU minister and scholar Mark Morrison-Reed describes the struggles of two black Unitarian ministers in the early 1900s; Egbert Ethelred Brown, founder of the First Unitarian Church in Harlem, and Lewis A. McGee, who started the Interracial Free Religious Fellowship in Chicago's black ghetto. Over and over, Unitarian leaders found themselves in the position of knowing in theory they should be supporting the work of these men, but in practice in the early and mid 1900s not actually being able to imagine a black minister in a white church, or an integrated church, or even really able to support a black Unitarian church.

During the civil rights movement of the 1960s, there were mixed responses of Unitarian and Universalist churches (the merger of the two denominations came in 1961). We are proud now of those who stood up for equality; In Call to Selma, Rev Dick Leonard gives us his notes about attending the protests in Selma and Birmingham, where Unitarian minister James Reeb was martyred, and where a significant number of UU ministers came to bear witness. In one passage, as he was reflecting on the steep learning curve for him as a fairly naive white male minister from New York City, he described being inspired to simply start a conversation with a 13-year-old black girl on the pew next to him during a lull in one of the organizing meetings. He reflected on her complexity, her profound experiences of danger in the resistance movement, her dreams. Almost in amazement, he wrote, "Though we were of the opposite sex, different races, far apart in age, with no real knowledge of the other's culture,… we were expressing the identical feelings and ideals about human beings in general. Why, we asked, when people are so much alike, can't they get along better?"

Not long after Selma, in the late 1060‘s the heritage of racism showed itself in the pain and confusion of proceedings of the Unitarian Universalist Association (known as the UUA) in what has come to be called the Black Empowerment Controversy, a rift and wound in the association which remains unresolved. Two different groups vied for funding to carry on civil rights and social justice work for the UUA, one of blacks and whites together, and one insisting that black UU's needed complete self-determination, and not necessarily in the mode of business-as-usual, white racist patterns. The situation was complicated by a new association with severely depleted funds. In retrospect, it is clear that the dynamics of oppression were poorly understood, and unaware white racism was dominant at the time. The blacks who asserted that a black caucus needed to operate independently of whites, were accused of divisiveness and isolationism. Though I am convinced all parties operated with sincere good intention, much damage nevertheless resulted.

One of the benefits of the controversy was that lessons learned allowed new work combating sexism, and combating oppression against Lesbians and Gays to take hold successfully in the UUA and in congregations.

Now in most UU congregations, we say, "We're not racist," and in the west it is said, "We don't have many black people here; other racial issues are more prominent." One question to ask is, why aren't there more black people here? I did a little bit of historical research to get a glimpse of black racism in California.

California started out in a promising way; the state constitutional convention in 1849 banned slavery, so California entered the union as a free state in 1850. Some black Americans migrated here in the gold rush. But soon the state followed the pattern of many a western legislature. In the next few years, laws were passed banning African-American, Chinese, and Native American testimony in cases involving Caucasian plaintiffs and defendants. Laws also passed that prohibited African-Americans from voting and going to school with Caucasian children. Eventually, many African Americans in California migrated to Canada at the invitation of British Colombia, but found that racism was just as present there as here.

One little bit of history I didn't know about until I came to Arizona is the Buffalo Soldiers. After the Civil War, segregated Negro Regiments of infantry and cavalry were formed by the Army, initially with white officers only. These soldiers were often given the roughest assignments and the poorest conditions, but many distinguished themselves as great fighters. The story is that after a battle where particular bravery was exhibited, the Cheyenne named the black soldiers Buffalo Soldiers, because they fought bravely even when wounded like buffalos do, and also their hair seemed like buffalo mane. Eventually all of these segregated black units were known as buffalo soldiers. One fact I discovered was that Buffalo Soldiers were assigned to Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks at the turn of the 20th century. African American Cavalry were among the first stewards of these parks.

A quick look at current demographics tells us a little something. I found some statistics from the 2010 U.S. Census. The black population of the U.S. is 13.6%, of California is 6%, and of Freemont is 3%.

The Asian population of California is 13%, of Fremont is 50%. The white population of California is 58%, and of Fremont is 33%.

The US Census acknowledges that race is a social construction. It does not list Hispanic as a race. In my quick search, I did not find the US Census figure for the percentage of people identifying as Hispanic of any race, but the California page for census identifies that number as 38% for the state, and in Fremont it is listed as a race with white, Asian, and African American, at 14%.

That percentage of 3 for African Americans in Fremont will have a complicated history behind it; perhaps it is something you would like to explore. I wonder what the percentage is in this congregation?

Society has instilled patterns deep within us all, and unaware patterns of privilege, oppression, and internalized oppression persist in individuals and in institutions. The wounds of alienation obscure our vision and harm us all, black and multi racial and white. This is also true of all areas of oppression; other targets of racism, ageism, able-body-ism, heterosexism, etc; and UU's have put focused attention on some of those areas. I think it is time we address black racism particularly, in light of the history of our country and our denomination, for the sake of all of us, for the sake of wholeness.

One thing I will suggest to those of us here who identify as "white" is reading (because reading is a sacrament for Unitarian Universalists); especially reading Afro-American authors, and the biographies of Afro-Americans. Oppression works partly through misinformation and not knowing, and reading is an excellent way to begin to understand the perspective of others. I encountered several of these books for my coursework in seminary. One of the most moving is Monica Coleman's Making a Way out of No Way: A Womanist Theology; a beautiful synthesis of process theology, Christianity, womanist feminism, and traditional African religion to create a meaningful, pluralistic but unified theology relevant to postmodern times. To illustrate this postmodern womanist theology, she uses Octavia Butler's sci-fi utopian novel Parable of the Sower, and the true story of United Church of Christ affiliated GSN Ministries for black gays and lesbians in Atlanta and founding minister Kathi Elaine Martin. One of the most difficult and challenging books I have ever read is theologian James Cone's A Black Theology of Liberation. Cone's work in 1970 conveys the rage and energy of the black power movement towards a persistent and insidious racism. It is an important piece of the overall picture perhaps not otherwise visible to some of us. The twentieth anniversary edition contains Cone's own thoughts 20 years later, and comments of appreciation and criticism by other authors, putting it in a larger context.

The Unitarian Universalist Women's Heritage Society have offered a book; Unitarian and Universalist Women: Liberating History, published in June 2008 and containing biographical information of many black women leaders in Unitarian Universalism. These stories are inspiring and sobering, and little-known to most of us. Lifting up this history is a way of growing in understanding of the experience of race within Unitarian Universalism and in the world, a way of honoring those women and men, and a way to imagine moving forward in a new way. Another source for stories about and works of people of color within the faith is the Unitarian Universalist Sankofa Project, collecting and preserving works at Meadville Lombard Theological School. The first black man to enter the Unitarian ministry was Don Speed Smith Goodloe, entering Meadville in 1903. Among others, his photograph is part of the collection.

Beyond reading, there is the work of unlearning racism and internalized oppression. As Paul Razor states in Faith Without Certainty, "Liberal Theology is not for the faint of heart", and "a vital feature of the liberal theological tradition is constructive self-examination," referring both to the liberal religion as a whole, and to the individual engaged in it. Some of this comes from deepening relationships in our lives and intentional reflection. Working on projects together, stirring soup, connecting in a Finding Heart small group ministry meeting, we break down the illusion of separateness and alienation and begin to connect heart to heart. My father was able to maintain deeply racist attitudes throughout his life partly because in his world he rarely encountered non-white people; he never got to know an individual to challenge his stereotyped images. Here, we are constantly engaged in the process of creating and nurturing beloved community, and we are encouraged to get to know others in the congregation in deeper ways, so opportunities arise all the time. However, it is not the responsibility of the people of color among us to listen to those of us who are white struggle to become aware of, and let go of, patterns of oppression. I encourage the congregation to pursue curricula designed for this kind of transformation. When I was involved in a peer counseling program called Re-Evaluation Counseling, or Co-Counseling, in the 1980s, I was involved in some very powerful anti-racism work. The YWCA offers anti-racism workshops. The UUA offers several different curricula and consultancies for this purpose. Continental Young Religious Unitarian Universalists, or YRUU has developed some powerful workshops that are often presented at UU gatherings. Perhaps youth can partner with adults to engage in this healing work as a whole congregation.

Let me give an example from Co-counseling. That work involves deep listening with a non-judgemental, loving and accepting attitude. Partners swap roles of counselor and client. Being able to expose our pain to a safe listener can help heal wounds and open us to our full intelligence and power. In one session where it was my turn to be counselor, my young, black, male client decided to work on racism. How moving it was, and how powerful, for him to have an empathetic white listener, as he grieved over the daily pain of walking down the street and seeing fear or loathing in the white faces he met. I grieved too, as tears rolled down his cheeks. How powerful for me, to receive that understanding of his experience, and it has changed my awareness and my attitude forever. Then it was for me to do my own work with a white co-counselor. Though it is possible for a black person to invite a white person to work on their patterns of racism with them, it is never expected, because it is so easy for that dynamic to reflect and perpetuate the racist patterns that exist. When I lived in Antigua in the Caribbean as a Peace Corps volunteer, I was confronted with the depth of my own prejudices, which I thought I had eliminated. My experiences in co-counseling had equipped me for further reflection and action in that place where I was in the minority in terms of numbers, but very much representing the oppressor group. Again, seeking close personal relationships with colleagues and neighbors went very far in moving me closer to wholeness.

I repeat the words of Rev. Jim Hobart's prayer,

We are led in faith toward the possibility of the world's transformation,
our liberal movement's transformation,
our liberal congregations' transformation,
our personal transformation.
We hunger, we thirst, we yearn, we strive on behalf of the world renewed,
and our lives made fresh and new.
We are called together in this service all the days of our lives.

Let us all spread our wings and fly away to freedom.