In search of a color-blind church and society? The Revs. Charles Luers (left) and Judith Miller impose ashes on the foreheads of worshippers during a service of repentance for racism at the 2003 Iowa Annual Conference.  A UMNS photo by Mike DuBose

By the Rev. C. Anthony Hunt*

 Recently I was invited by a seminary in Baltimore, Md., to lecture on the matter of the church and race relations over the past 40 years, and whether it is possible—or even desirable—for us to strive to become color-blind.

In my reflections, I was drawn back to the recollection of what was occurring in the United States in the late 1960s. It was a time of great racial tension. In 1968 the Kerner Commission Report, requested by President Lyndon B. Johnson, summarized the state of race relations by noting, “America is a nation of two societies, one black and one white, separate and unequal.”

The assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., on April 4, had ignited prolific violence in cities across the nation—from Washington D.C. to Detroit to Los Angeles. In the aftermath of King’s death, we witnessed communities turning upon themselves in acts of destruction. The images of large business corridors, residential communities and places of worship being looted and burned are still vivid in many of our memories.

A closer look today at the state of race relations in the church, and in society, leads us to reflect on what might have been the hopes and dreams of those who engaged in earlier efforts toward racial reconciliation.

In the 40^th year after Dr. King’s assassination, I suspect many persons of all races would have hoped and expected that racism would no longer exist and that perhaps most churches would be color-blind. We know this is not the case. In many ways, a pall remains over much, if not most, of today’s church with regard to how we have dealt with the race problem in America.

In their 2001 book, Divided by Faith, Michael Emerson and Christian Smith developed a theory to explain why churches are racially exclusive enclaves despite Christian’s ideals about being inclusive. Americans choose where and with whom to worship; race is one of the most important grounds on which we choose. So the more choice we have, the more our religious institutions are likely to be segregated.

The authors point out that 95 percent of churches are effectively segregated, meaning that 80 percent or more of their members are of the same race. The result is that about 5 percent of religious congregations in the U.S. can fairly be considered multicultural/multiracial, with the majority of Christians choosing to congregate with “birds of the same feather,” as their congregations reflect “ethno-racial particularism.”

The recent presidential candidacy and election of Senator Barak Obama as the 44^th president of the United States serves as an historic milestone for our nation. While his election as the first president of African descent has renewed the hope of many persons across the nation and the world, his candidacy offered a vivid snapshot of the state of race relations in the churches today.  

Much of the political discourse leading up to the election focused on Obama’s race and whether the nation was ready for a black president. These questions were raised almost 400 years after the first African slaves arrived on America’s shores, and almost 150 years after the legal emancipation of slaves in the United States.

These questions were also raised against the backdrop of Obama’s former membership at Trinity United Church of Christ, in Chicago, and his 20 year relationship with its former senior pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright. On the surface, many of the concerns about Obama’s relationship with Wright centered on vehement comments Wright made in several of his sermons. Those sermons offered pointed, and what many believe to have been derogatory, critiques of President George W. Bush’s administration in the aftermath of the 2001 terrorist attacks on our nation and in light of the current war in Iraq.

What seemed to be lost in the discourse–at least to some degree–was that Obama found spiritual resonance and a way of living out his Christian faith in a mainline congregation that is deeply rooted in community activism and prophetic engagement.

Also too often lost in the discourse surrounding Obama’s candidacy was the fact that this highly qualified, African American presidential candidate rose from an impoverished upbringing to become a person of exemplary achievement. He became a student at two Ivy League institutions, an effective community organizer and state legislator, and finally the only person of his race serving in the U.S. Senate at the time of his candidacy.

One of the images that remains etched in my memory of the days leading up to the election are words displayed on a large marquee of a Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod) in Bel Air, Md. The message prominently announced the sermon title for the two Sundays prior to the election, “Does God Love Obama?” As I drove by the sign on several occasions and pondered the question, it was evident that race continues to matter in America, and that we are not yet color-blind.

I sense that the Barak Obama’s election as president offers hope for a society that finds itself on the brink of nihilism–where a certain hopelessness has made our collective future a bit murky.

But as much as that election offers hope, it remains the churches’ primary task to speak and live hope amidst the critical moral and social issues of the contemporary age. It is the church’s theological task to articulate a framework for thinking and speaking about God in the face of apparent hopelessness.

A question we must continue to ask is one posed by spiritual mentor Howard Thurman in his seminal work, Jesus and the Disinherited. “What does the religion of Jesus have to say to people who have their backs against the wall?” In other words, how does Christianity today offer hope to the disinherited among us–the poor, the violated, and the oppressed?  

A part of the church’s task is also to be self-critical when it comes to such issues as the proliferation of the prosperity gospel, the lack of activism in many circles and the inability or unwillingness of churches today to speak prophetically on many crucial matters. Examples around the world include the war in Iraq, the widening gap between rich and poor, the proliferation of racial bigotry, the marginalization of immigrants and others among the disinherited in our society, and the generally violent and misogynous nature of much hip hop music and other lurid forms of popular culture.

Near the end of his life, Martin Luther King Jr. published a book titled Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community? In it he reiterated a point he had made on several other occasions: that we are faced with a fateful choice in our life together in this society. We can either learn to live together as brothers and sisters, or we will surely die together as fools.

The church of today looks quite different from the church of 40 years ago. Progress can be seen in many areas, and yet there is still much work ahead of us. We are not yet color-blind.

Though segregation continues to abound in many churches, as it does in many other sectors of society, I believe that the election of Barak Obama offers a glimmer of hope that someday the church and our society might become color blind. My hope is rooted in the possibility that we will continue to discover ways to capitalize on those experiences and encounters that lead us to being intentionally inclusive communities.

This is the hope that must be realized if we are to be the church – the Beloved Community -- that Christ calls us to become.

The Rev. C. Anthony Hunt is a district superintendent in the Baltimore-Washington Conference and a board member of the General Commission on Religion and Race. He formerly directed the Multi-Ethnic Center of the Northeastern Jurisdiction.

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