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Some 25 years ago, I lived in a small town in the
mid-west. It was a nice suburban community, and--something I didn’t
really think much about at the time--a rather WHITE community. This fact
dawned upon me when a particular thing happened.
First, some background. I had, years earlier, served a church in a much
more racially diverse, east coast city. Well, one of the youth in the
Prince George’s County church I was then serving, an African American
young man, was now a grown man, a college grad, and was sensing the call
of God into local church ministry. I had the great privilege of offering
him an internship at the church I was serving in this suburban,
mid-western town.
When he first arrived there to begin his internship, after having made
the long drive all the way from the DC region, he came to my house for
dinner. It had been years since we had seen each other! We were all
having a wonderful time together--he, me and my family--sharing a great
meal and catching up on what had happened in our lives in the
intervening years…his mom, his dad, his brothers, his sister, etc.
Then there was a sudden knock at my front door. I left the conversation
and answered it. And standing there were two police officers, one of
whom was a member of the church I was serving in this community. We
immediately recognized and greeted one another. ‘Hey, John! What brings
you here?’ 'Oh, Pastor Jay--it’s YOU.'
This officer seemed a little confused and things got a bit awkward. He
said the police had received a call from someone in my neighborhood
reporting a black man driving through it. The police were responding to
investigate. He asked if my guest would come outside while I remained
inside.
Things were fuzzy for me at first, and I couldn’t quite sort out what
was happening. (I’m slow that way!)
By now, my wife and kids had followed to the front door. As we watched
through the window our friend standing very still and politely answering
the officer’s questions, my wife got very angry (she’s a bit quicker on
the uptake than I am) and my children were confused by everyone’s sudden
emotional disquiet. Eventually, it became clear to the police that the
‘black man’ was, indeed, my GUEST…so things were apparently ‘ok.’
But, after the fact, as I began to piece together what had just
happened, I grew furious. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. I was
angered. Understand--my friend was absolutely gracious, although looking
back I recall how flustered he was. I now recognize his marvelously
controlled frustration, embarrassment, hurt and fear. He tried to set me
at ease about the incident.
All these years later, as I think about that night some things occur to
me. While I was shocked that this was happening…this was no surprise to
HIM. And why not? Because he had had a much different experience in the
world than I had. See, I have never driven through a white neighborhood
as a black man. He had. I have never had people assume that I was up to
no good simply because of the color of my skin. He had. This was HIS
LIFE.
I was suddenly aware of a reality that had never occurred to me before.
As a black man he had to put up with treatment, tensions, fears that I
have never had to face—simply because he was a black man. Because I am
white, the challenges that I face do not include those.
In light of the killing of George Floyd in Minnesota recently, I have
found myself looking back 25 years. What if one of the two officers at
my door that evening had not known me as ‘Pastor Jay?’ Would things have
gone down differently with my guest? He was certainly guilty—guilty of
driving through a white, mid-western neighborhood as a black man. What
if he had been less controlled and expressed his outrage to the police
at yet another insult—being thought a criminal because he was black? And
what if the officers had had a bad day and were not on top of their
game? Could this have ended differently?
As I get older, I am increasingly aware of the fact that systemic racism
sadly does still exist. And because I’m a white man, much of it escapes
me. I simply am not sensitive to it. But I WANT to be a learner. I WANT
to be sensitive to the ways in which I continue to contribute to the
problem. And I want to do a better job of helping to create a more just
reality.
Isaiah 1:17--‘Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.’ |
