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Racial Justice reflection series – Epilogue

As a nation, we are still plagued with wary coexistence, latent suspicions, subtle exclusions, covert tensions, and barely concealed resentments- all rooted in an often unacknowledged but entrenched network of racial privilege and dominance. The next frontier of racial justice is the task of dismantling the edifice of white privilege, which demands confronting and naming the “non-rational” set of meanings and values- the white cultural identity and symbol system-that sustains it. (Massingale, p. 176)

Bryan Massingale shows throughout his prophetic book that getting to the promise land of racial justice will not be easy. We in White America live in a cloud of denial oblivious to our privilege. Since the force of law dismantled the blatant racist symbols of the Jim Crow era, we naively delude ourselves in believing that we live now in a post-racial society free from the insidious snares of overt racism and discrimination. There may still be racism but it is merely the personal failings of the unrepentant bigot rather than woven tightly into the fabric of white privilege and dominance keeping us comfortable and complicit. To remain relevant, Massingale believes the Church must confront this reality of white privilege. (Massingale, p. 179). We must strive for integration and not just desegregation for it is there in acceptance not tolerance that the Kingdom of God resides. He shares the experience of his home parish in Milwaukee as an example of the in-breaking of the Kingdom, of what Church can and should be. His description of All Saints Catholic Church reminds me very much of my parish in Washington, D.C.

Over the Christmas break, my family had the blessing of coming home to St. Martin Catholic Church, a racially mixed, predominately African-American parish with an amazing Gospel choir. On New Year’s Day, we came to worship and though we have been gone for more than 10 years, we were instantly recognized and welcomed home. Stephanie, the acolyte, beamed and caught us up on her family. Father Mike asked if we were back or just visiting. We were asked, “You were lectors, right? Would you do the second reading?”, and so I had the privilege of proclaiming the Word of God. The irony of God is sweet and wonderful; I stood before the people I love and spoke Paul’s words to the Colossians, words I had heard on my wedding day. The deacon and the congregation responded with shouts of “Amen”.

During the homily, Fr. Mike called up families in all there diversity so we could pray our needs and receive a blessing. The pews emptied into the aisle during the Sign of Peace and the choir sang lifting us to God. This was Church! This was a glimpse of the Kingdom, and we left that day empowered.

How then can St. Mary’s be where we “practice for the Kingdom”? It can be if we, white parishioners, die to our privilege and dominance. It can be when we are willing to pray and sing and do Church in an idiom that is not “white”. It can be if we say to those whose first or only language is Spanish, “You are not the Spanish speaking community at St. Mary’s; you are the St. Mary’s community”. It can be if we invite people of color into positions of leadership and influence. It can be when we are voices of solidarity with students of color. It can be when all of us, from the pulpit to the pews, boldly proclaim the just word and call out systems of racial oppression and purveyors of bigotry and hatred whether in our government or in our Church. It can be if we trust in God who desires this new life for us.

At St. Martin’s, we would often close our liturgies by singing the gospel hymn “One More Time” One more time! One more time! God has allowed us to come together . . . pray together . . . sing together . . . shout together one more time. God will allow us to come together as a true intercultural community one more time. God will allow us to pray together for racial healing and forgiveness one more time. God will allow us to sing together the beauty of our diversity one more time. God will allow us to shout together for racial justice one more time. God will allow us to be Church!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=610x5zZVDSo

Postscript: As I was writing this reflection, I felt that I might be perpetuating another example of white dominance. Every writer of this blog series has been white showing once again that only what we say matters. However, I came to realize that the audience for this blog series was not parishioners of color, though I hope they read the book too. No, we were writing for white people. White people need to speak to other white people about racism and privilege if we hope to make progress towards the Kingdom. We need to listen more to people of color and make spaces where all feel included but it is not the obligation of Black and Brown people to enlighten us and pull us from our ignorance. Thank you for reading our reflections. May we continue to trust in God to lead us to the promise land of racial justice.

Bill Alt

Racial Justice reflection series – Chapter 4 “A Dream Deferred”

Massingale quoting Vaclav Havel:

“[Hope is] a state of mind, not a state of the world. Either we have hope within us or we don’t; it is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not essentially dependent on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation…It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons…Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but, rather, an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed…Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out,” (147).

This came at just the right time for me, and maybe it will for you too.

As the St. Mary staff person working with our Faith Doing Justice ministry, it would be easy to look at this past semester and feel discouraged. Heck, it would be easy as anyone to look at what is happening in the world, on campus, in the Catholic Church even, and feel discouraged.

Let’s just take UofM’s campus as the example for a moment. Anti-Latino messages painted on the Rock. Racial slurs written on students’ doors in the dorms. Racial slurs graffitied on Ann Arbor area buildings. UofM administration allowing for a leader of white supremacy groups to speak on campus. It’s a lot.

When I get discouraged about how things are going, the tendency can be to become indifferent. I have felt indifferent about race at times this semester. That’s why this message of hope and vision that Fr. Bryan is bringing to us is HUGE!

When I remain in hope, I find that it becomes easier to respond with love, rather than anger, disgust, judgment, or indifference. When I remain in hope, I find myself being more generous and being more courageous in speaking up about racial injustice.

Now, imagine…what would we be able to create if we all had just a little more hope? Could we create that “Beloved Community” that King wrote of and Massingale references?

I think that’s what Jesus wants us to be pondering and exploring, particularly right now during Advent. This is a time of exceptional hope.

But sometimes there is another temptation for myself and for other white people getting in the way of this hope. When we realize our contributions to perpetuating racism (whether that’s directly as an individual or indirectly as part of an institution or system of oppression), there is the desire to want to do something, anything, to prove (mostly to ourself) that I didn’t mean to contribute to it or that I am a good person who is not racist.

And I call it a “temptation” because I think that mode of thinking is something to avoid. It’s a white person’s way of wanting to get “off the hook”, to have a quick fix. But the imbalance of power as a result of race isn’t an issue that has a quick fix; we are always “on the hook.”

Besides, most of the time, I, as white person, don’t know what to do. Even after having taken classes on intergroup dialogue, social structures, and other community activism-based classes, there are times I still don’t know what to do.

And when we don’t know what to do about race, what usually happens? We do nothing.

What I’m trying to say here is: I want to avoid the temptation of having to prove that I’m not racist. At the same time, I also want to avoid becoming indifferent and not doing anything to proclaim anti-racism and a movement towards a positive, inspiring vision, like the “Beloved Community.”

If white people are set on doing something but not knowing what, the one thing I think of doing before anything else is to buy into the vision of the “Beloved Community” and to have hope.

As Massingale writes, “No one gives one’s life for the sake of an abstract concept. No one risks humiliation, ostracization, vilification, persecution, and other forms of opposition for an intellectual idea or sterile definition.”

So if you’ve been feeling discouraged lately, know that we have hope and that that hope is not based on worldly happenings, but on faith. Faith in a heavenly vision of a “Beloved Community”, in which all are truly welcome, social differences are celebrated, and we live this out daily.

How do you see yourself living out this hopeful vision of the “Beloved Community”?

Jake Derry

Jake is a recent University of Michigan graduate and the Campus Ministry Associate at St. Mary, working with the Faith Doing Justice ministry. He enjoys writing, being outside, playing sports, and being creative and entrepreneurial.

Racial Justice reflection series – Chapter 3 Toward a More Adequate Catholic Engagement

“Laments name the pain present, and they forthrightly acknowledge that life and relationships have gone terribly wrong.  They are uncivil, strident, harsh, and heart-rending.  They are profound interruptions and claims to attention.  Laments pierce the crusty calluses of numbness, cynicism, indifference, and denial.”(Massingale, 106)

The truths of Bryan Massingale’s book have pierced the crusty calluses of my understanding of racial justice in the Catholic Church.  While the racism that exists in the church and our society is not completely new information to me, the way in which Fr. Massingale weaves cultural history, church history, theology, and stories from the oppressed together has more fully awakened me to the grave social sin of racism in the Church.

As I prayerfully wonder how I am called as a Catholic to engage with this reality, I turn to both the laments of the people of Israel found in the book of Psalms and to the modern day laments of the African American community.  The laments present in the Book of Psalms are individual or communal calls to God that register a complaint, petition aid, pledge trust in God, and express hope in a more just future.  I am jarred by their honest cries of pain in the midst of human suffering.  I am humbled that despite the pain, the people of Israel still believe and trust in a God who hears their cries.  I am in awe of their patient hope that ultimately God will guide them to a better place.  

As I hear the individual and communal laments of modern day injustices in the African American community; including but not limited to–economic disparity, water crises, police brutality, inclusion in the church, access to education, fair housing, and access to medical care, my heart is pierced to acknowledge the sin of racism.  As I hear these laments, it is important that I humbly listen to the individual and communal voices of the African American community so that I can hear their particular pain.  It is equally important that in hearing these laments, I acknowledge the structures, institutions, and individual actions that continue to perpetuate the evils of racism.

As I wait in hope that God is guiding all of us to a place of justice, I cry out to God to hear my prayers and to enable me to walk in solidarity with the African American community.

Prayer for Dismantling Racism by the Sisters of Providence

Dear God, in our efforts to dismantle racism, we understand that we struggle not merely against flesh and blood but against powers and principalities – those institutions and systems that keep racism alive by perpetuating the lie that some members of the family are inferior and others superior.  Create in us a new mind and heart that will enable us to see brothers and sisters in the faces of those divided by racial categories.  Give us the grace and strength to rid ourselves of racial stereotypes that oppress some of us while providing entitlements to others.  Help us to create a Church and nation that embraces the hopes and fears of oppressed People of Color where we live, as well as those around the world.  Heal your family God, and make us one with you, in union with our brother Jesus, and empowered by your Holy Spirit. Amen.

Karen Thomas

Karen is a resident parishioner who has been a member of the SMSP community for the past 16 years.  She is a graduate of the University of Michigan and completed an MA in Pastoral Ministry at Marygrove College in Detroit.

Racial Justice Reflection Series – Chapter 2 Catholic Social Teaching and Racism

“What makes it [the Catholic Church] ‘white’ and ‘racist’ is the pervasive belief that European aesthetics, music, theology, and persons- and only these- are standard, normative, universal, and truly ‘Catholic’.” (Massingale, 80)

What we believe to be correct and normative shapes our values, opinions, and beliefs. I grew up in Denver, CO in a largely white parish; white was normative in my parish.  Brother Joseph Davis points out that, the Church continues to perceive its constituency as the white, European immigrant community (Massingale, 63).  What is viewed as correct and normative is white, and therefore what follows is that anything that deviates from this norm is less than perfect, wrong, not to be valued.  White=normative and good, non-White=deviating from the norm, not good.  The question of language, of who is included, and who is “us” follows from this concept of normativity and is illustrated in Brothers and Sisters to Us.  It was not until the conclusion of chapter two that I realized the obviousness of the language in the title of this letter. I imagine this was partly because I didn’t pay much attention to the name of the bishops’ document, but as a part of the constituency Brother Joseph Davis describes (I am white, descended from Irish and Italian immigrants), I suspect some implicit biases were also at play.  And I think (at least for me) this is the crux of the chapter. “Who is the ‘us’?” Massingale calls our attention to the fact that, “The Catholic racial justice tradition tends to speak about and for aggrieved African Americans; but it does not support or acknowledge black agency, meaning independent thought, action, and leadership” (Massingale, 75). The Church needs not to be a voice for the voiceless, but to critically examine how the voices of the dominant/normative constituency are blocking out the voices of marginalized communities.  

While I am grateful to Father Massingale for helping call my attention to this simple and highly important point, I am also called to recognize my own blindness on this issue.  Sure, maybe I just got lazy reading the title over and over again in the chapter, but why did I not pause to wonder who is the “us” and who is the necessarily implied and non-normative “other” present in the title of this letter?

At the end of the chapter, Massingale quotes Bernard Lonergan’s concept of “the flight from understanding,” which Massingale tells us is “the refusal of unwanted insight when such insight would entail changes that are costly, painful, or demanding” (Massingale, 76).  Realizing that I missed the simple question of “who is ‘us’?” in the title demands that I look more closely at my own implicit biases and make changes. I invite you to begin thinking about what are ways that you allow yourself to participate in “the flight from understanding.”  Perhaps while reading this book you have felt challenged (I know I have!), and perhaps there is a temptation to flee the book as it is bringing up questions that would require you to make changes that are “costly, painful, or demanding.”  How can you lean into the discomfort and accept the invitation to move toward understanding?    

Kathleen Durkin

Kathleen is a new member at St. Mary, having relocated from Boston, MA to Ann Arbor this summer.  Kathleen is a social worker and has also spent time studying theology at Boston College’s School of Theology and Ministry. She enjoys baking, speaking Spanish, being outside, and spending time with family.