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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.