Are cross-racial appointments of African American pastors to white congregations our best strategy for racial integration in mainline denomination worship? What is your opinion? After more than 10 years of serving as both laity and clergy in cross-racial contexts, I’m ready for some honest and open dialogue, and I hope you will join me.
Recently, I was devotional worship leader for a denominational district meeting in which at least 80% of the attendees were white. I led this group of mostly clergy and some laity in singing an a cappella African American Spiritual and another familiar song in Spanish. In order to heighten involvement, rhythm and fun, I randomly distributed percussion instruments – maracas, tambourines, and shakers – so that people could join in with more than just singing. After the meeting, several white people spoke to me very candidly and apologetically about their “lack of rhythm,” declaring that it was inherent or hereditary, or both. Even seasoned clergy lamented and apologized for their white congregations’ inability to sing or “pull off” these songs, “no matter how hard they’ve tried” over the years.
As much as I hear this (I heard it again yesterday in my own predominantly white church) I could not help wondering for the hundredth time, why we believe that cross-racial clergy appointments of African American clergy to white congregations is the answer to the racial integration of mainline denomination worship. Why is the burden on the clergy of color, and not vice versa? Is this the best way to build and achieve racial diversity in the worship context? And if it is the best or only way, how can we better prepare these clergy and the congregations for such deeply personal and cultural precipitation?
Share your thoughts and experiences. Maybe we will have a revelation!
The truth is that it seems that many times cross racial appointment does actually mean that they will place a pastor of color with an anglo congregation and hardly ever the other way around. I guess we have a story to tell and a recognition that we are not the ones with the problem of racism. However, personally I would like to see more inter-racial appointments. For example, when are they going to put a black pastor in a Latino church? I've only seen one such appointment. When can a Latino clergy be appointed to a black church?
ReplyDeleteI've often wanted to create a forum where we can have a brown-black dialogue and air out all our institutional racism that we have learned and passed on, because the assumption that all Latinos know how to dance Salsa and all Black people have rhythm just ain't so! And I guess until we debunk some of the common myths and our own issues of difference, and learn to seek out our common stories perhaps living cross-racially is as far as we will get.
Let's keep talkin'
I once spent a summer visiting a predominantly Hispanic church. The fellowship was sweet, the worship Spirited and meaningful, and the food delicious. If I had more time and opportunity, it would have meant additonal instances for learning more about our readiness to cross cultural lines and build sacred bridges on which to cross over into the Promised Land.
ReplyDeleteI’ve had a lot of job interviews in my life, and in most, I inevitably experienced some level or act of racism, at least initially. A statement, a gesture, a question, a flinch – at this point in my life, I can smell it a mile away, and more easily across a conference table. But I will never forget the interview I had with a church in my own denomination for a clergy appointment. I was led by the District Superintendent into a small, but beautifully decorated room at the church. I was all set to tell the members as much as I could about myself, so that I could get on with getting hired, so I could lead the church into the 21st century, using the fresh skills and knowledge I had just learned in seminary. I was excited. I wanted the congregation to know as much as possible about me right away, especially the pathos of my past to get that out of the way. I steeled myself for their personal and theological questions. But I never (and I mean never) got to share my watershed of personal narrative, because not one person asked me a single question in that first 10 minutes. Ten fully literate, intelligent, relatively cosmopolitan white people stared at me over their individual copies of my 3-page resume, and no one spoke. Some glanced down at or skimmed my resume, but most were stunned to distraction and barely moved, and several never cracked a smile. The first 10 minutes felt like 2 hours. We could have heard a church mouse sneeze.
ReplyDeleteI knew I was well-dressed and well-spoken. I was even on time. I had rehearsed everything, including a synopsis of my checkered past, which I figured was fodder for pastoral compassion. We never got that far. Against the screaming silence, and feeling painfully humiliated, I cheerfully suggested, “Then why don’t I ask you some questions”? I then threw out a barrage of carefully-crafted questions about the church through a pasted smile, because I was sure I would burst into tears any minute. I couldn’t help wondering what it must feel like to come to a job interview in a wheelchair or with a cane, or disfigured, or even overweight. I had none of these, and these folks were viscerally uncomfortable before I even opened my mouth.
I could tell that a few people were embarrassed for themselves and for the others, but they still lacked either the nerve or the energy to act normal, much less cordial toward me. Eventually, a few people opened up, and started asking questions, but it was unequivocally the most jaded interview I have ever had. And sadly, it was in church. Do we really think we can cure this kind of crud with catchy themes like, “healing the wounds of racism”? When the educated, intelligent white people are hesitant about being led by clergy of color can we hope for real change any time soon?
Years ago I remember my mother-in-law (member of a totally white Lancaster County church) confiding her frustration that church members would rather have a black male pastor appointed than a woman pastor! Does there still remain a double "discomfort" with a female pastor who is also a person of color!?! It must truly be a lonely pastoral outpost for clergywomen in cross racial appointments.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this blog and daring to talk about this important subject.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was pastor of a church that was well integrated - about half
white and half black, the church was often considered a white church,
because of the pastoral leadership. Racism and racial divisions are
persistent and strong enough that it takes a whole congregational
shift to really make a difference. I think that white pastors need to
constantly be reaching out to welcome people of color and to help
integrate and diversify churches. Using cross racial appointments
cannot be our major strategy for tackling racism or segregation.
And we white folks have to learn how to dance.
heredity, my foot.
Glad our church has been exposed to many aspects of ministry in a mixed culture in town. I don't see how having a black woman/man minister changes racism. I grew up in the 60's and have been exposed to it all. I am thankful I was raised not to judge by color or culture. My church took in a black family in the 60's and they lived in the second church house. We also accomodated a family exiled from Cuba.
ReplyDeleteIt is my hope that pastors are chosen for their gifts to a specific church in need. We are so grateful for a caring woman pastor who has been working so blessed hard for our church. Many people simply cannot clap in time whether they are black or white. Bless you JMA
Thank you for the blessing, I need and appreciate it.
ReplyDeletewhat an ugly white-stereotype: lack of rhythm. It has nothing to do with that, it has everything to do with letting go of the head and letting the heart lead for once. Pentacostals, mega-churches, and evangelicals don't have this problem, and the church I visited were largely white too, but there they were rocking out.
ReplyDeleteStoic, head-lead worship and the danger of being vulnerable and looking like a fool in front of the rest of the group is the prime suspect here. Just say'n. The more I preach, the more charismatic I'm getting and the more response I'm asking from my congregation.
Speaking of "looking like a fool in front of the rest of the group": When you are the black preacher standing in the pulpit shaking a tambourine in front of a sea of white worshipers, even if they all have rhythm, can you imagine how much guts that takes 52 Sundays a year trying to get to the glory?
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine the guts it takes in the confines of race, but I understand the trying to get the glory part from an unwilling audience.
ReplyDelete