In Testimony

Yesterday, at church (East End Methodist on Tortola), the congregation celebrated Black History Month.  Early in the liturgy, the congregation shared in a unison prayer that contained these words:  “We thank you that in you there is no superior race, we are all the same… Thank you for your love that is from eternity to eternity.  As we today remember our race, we also remember that you have made all the peoples of the world equal in your sight.  Although we live in a world that does not treat, respect, care, and value each one equally, you are calling us to rise above our circumstances and prejudices and to see ourselves as brothers and sisters of one another.”   During the Meditation, the congregation joined the pastor, Rev. Joyce Rohan, in singing Deep River, Sometimes I feel like a Motherless Child, Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Steal Away, Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen, and… Every Time I Feel the Spirit.  As the only two white folks worshipping in this Caribbean African congregation, we left grateful to God and connected to Christ’s Body.

And it got me to thinking about my journey.

I grew up in an all-white neighborhood in Cincinnati, Ohio.  The high school I attended was 95% white.  In a graduating class of 170, there might have been 6-7 Black students.  I then went to a Presbyterian college in North Carolina that was 98% white.  The churches I attended during those growing up years were mostly white.   I look back grateful for the foundations in the faith they gave.  But…the real blessings were about to happen.

My first year in seminary, I found a student field education position as an assistant to the Black youth leader of the Community of Reconciliation in Pittsburgh, PA.   That congregation had been birthed by the closing of two Presbyterian congregations, one Black and one white in the late 1960’s.  It was an amazing gift.  The choir was led by Moses Stith, a Black seminarian who led a mixed race choir into singing Gospel music incredibly well.  Moses became a Presbyterian Chaplain in the Navy.  The pastors were theologically progressive and socially engaged, in a church located across the street from the University of Pittsburgh.  And the youth group, about half Black and half white, drew from teenagers all over the city where we averaged between 80-100 in attendance each Sunday night.  The people had a vision of unity in Christ, reconciliation among the races and they were living the dream. 

My second year in seminary, I transferred to New York Theological Seminary for a year and lived in East Harlem (Spanish Harlem).  The church where I worshipped was United Church of Christ, about half Hispanic and half Black, led by an Anglo woman pastor and an Hispanic woman associate.   I sang in the choir, one of two string bean long-haired white guys (back when I had hair) backing up eight African American women. 

And in both of these congregations, “We’ve Come This Far By Faith, Leaning On the Lord” was the theme song.

Over the years, I’ve worshipped and been blessed by many congregations.  As an executive in the Presbyterian Church, I once counted over 400 congregations where I attended worship at least once.  Each church had its own way, special, gifted, and for the most part “going high” even in those moments when some wanted to “go low”.   And especially important in those years were my visits to all the Native American congregations (Choctaw, Pima, Navajo) in Oklahoma and Arizona.

Today, Marney and I worship in a small congregation in Taos, New Mexico, half Hispanic and half white.  We sing in English and Spanish, I strum the guitar sometimes and there is much laughter and love that comes with a small community of believers who have welcomed us as the “newbies” we are.  And then, we’re blessed to worship in this Caribbean black congregation here in the islands. 

There is an awful lot about the church’s history that is simply embarrassing… moments in time, people stuck in contexts, unable to rise above the cultural bigotries and live high into the teachings of Jesus.   Caught in a world that does not treat, respect, care, and value each one equally, Christ calls us to arise above our circumstances and prejudices and see ourselves as brothers and sisters to one another.  And the truth is, we all still fall short in some ways. 

But in this moment, I am grateful for the church and the gifts it has brought to my life.  It is the religious communities (Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, others) who cast the vision of equality and call us to live better and by doing so, create a world closer to God’s vision for all humanity. 

Some can look to other institutions as sources of inspiration – education, athletics, government – but it has been in the church that I’ve  been able to see and participate in God’s goodness, the good that comes when we include and work together rather than exclude and resist those different than ourselves.

So, today I say thanks to the church for this great gift in my life.

And I hope it will always be worthy of an “amen” (so be it).

Fair Winds and Calm Seas

Dave