Racism at our Core: The Divided United States

I have a terrible habit of accumulating books that sit far too long on the bookshelf before getting cracked open. One of them currently is America's Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege and the Bridge to a New America, by evangelical Christian author Jim Wallis.

Despite not having read a word of this book yet, the title has spent a lot of time rolling around my mind. I think of it often. I chew on it the way others might chew on gum or perhaps a mantra. I take the expression of racism as America's original sin and apply it like a yardstick to other issues I am contemplating to see if it fits. What I have found has changed my perspective profoundly.

Even if I never end up reading a single word from this book, it will still have had a significant impact on me.

At first, I thought the title was an exaggeration. Surely racism is one of many sins in this country, but calling it our "original sin" seemed like an overreach. After all, we have no shortage of sins in the USA. I used to think racism was an issue that only impacted certain racial and ethnic groups, and I reasoned that no matter how bad those issues might be for those groups, other issues were more important simply because they impacted all of society in a broader way—militarism and poverty being two glaring examples. Well, I am here to admit that I was quite wrong in this! The more I delve into different social issues, the more I see the unmistakable footprint of racism underneath almost all of them. Contrary to my earlier thoughts, racism actually involves and impacts all of us. It's just everywhere and it's ugly.

In short, Jim Wallis is right.

Layer upon Layer of Racism

The US is built with layer upon layer of racism. The most obvious example is that the US was populated mostly by western Europeans who massacred their way across the frontier, wiping out whole cultures of people along the way. Native peoples who had built robust communities and civilizations were almost completely eradicated from the face of the earth, all so that European settlers could steal their land. Many settlers were convinced God has granted them this land and the people who were already there were treated like some kind of nuisance. Settlers rarely regarded native people as equal persons with rights and innate dignity bestowed on them by their Creator.

Then those European settlers brought in Africans who were kept in the cruelest form of chattel slavery for a period of over 250 years (longer if you include slavery in the Caribbean and elsewhere in the Americas). Each was legally regarded as only 3/5 of a person. After they were "freed," African Americans were still subjected to harsh treatment and denied opportunities through strict segregation (which was not, to say the least, a kind way to treat people who had been so terribly brutalized through slavery). Full freedom and inclusion for African Americans has still not been attained by a long shot, especially with current oppression in the form of mass incarceration.

As horrific as both of those are, racism doesn't stop there. No, it seeps into the cracks and crevices of life in America in other sinister ways, in places where you might not think to find it.

Waves of immigrants fought for jobs, status and opportunities by trying to push down successive waves of immigrants from other races, cultures and religions. Competition between the racial, religious and ethnic groups was built into the fabric of America this way. Poor whites were pitted against poor blacks as a way to divide and conquer. The repercussions of this go on to this day. It's deeply ingrained in us. We've been trained to see different groups as threats and competitors. We've been trained to see different groups as, well, different.

Education and Health Care

Racism is a driving force even in our education and health care systems. How can this be?

For example, white middle-class people living in a white middle-class neighborhood usually don't quibble too much over paying taxes to support their public school (or paying tuition for a private school) that serves mostly white middle-class families like themselves. But suggest that this same tax or tuition money should be distributed to schools in a wider circle and outrage will probably ensue. Why is this? Because there is a perception that "those people" as not part of "my society." If we really and truly felt in our bones that we are one united society, we would not hesitate to invest in each other the way we do when our communities look like ourselves. The original sin of racism stains everything we do.

It's all racism: We don't want "those people" to benefit from "our money." We only want "people like us" to share in what we have.

It's more than a little ironic if white folks do not want "their" money to benefit someone else. Much of white wealth was earned on the backs of enslaved Africans on free land stolen from native people and it is all kept that way through a deeply entrenched system of white privilege. This in turn even benefits white people who have had no direct inheritance from the days of slavery.

When people talk of "states rights" and are against "federal spending," these are often code words for racism. The reasoning is simple: If something is instituted at the federal level (such as spending for education or health care), then it would be distributed to all members of society evenly and equally. People who value states rights or local decision-making are hedging their bets that they can create a higher class of living for their select group at the expense of others outside their group—hence, racism. They want to maintain divisions to maintain privilege and power.

Rich people in rich neighborhoods pay for the education of each other's children—that's true whether it's a private or public school. So why do many not not want to pay for the education of ALL kids in society?

Many pay for the health care of other people through shared health insurance group plans. But try to suggest that all Americans should be covered under a single-payer, federal plan, and you will encounter all manner of resistance. Why? Because "those people" who we have been trained to hate, fear, mistrust, rival—and who might have legitimate grievances against us—could stand to improve their stature and thus their "risk" to us. At least, that's the fear.

Whatever feeling that arises when you read those words, perhaps a fear or a resistance, that is what this blog post is about.

The United States is not so United

We Americans just don't see each other as members of the same family and society. If we did, it would be easy to convince each other of the value of investing in each other. We act very differently when we have that sense of shared commonality with others.

One problem with the sin of racism is that our best efforts to exclude others and deny that we have a shared identity with certain groups does not change the fact that we actually do have a shared destiny together. After all, what happens to you impacts me and visa versa. As MLK said, "we must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools" [emphasis added].  Either way, we are indeed "together."

A lack of a shared vision is a poor vision. When crime goes up, when our nation falls behind other nations in the competitive world market, when our health care and education systems lag far behind other nations, we have only ourselves to blame. We are so threatened that another group or race might grow in power and standing that we end up just shooting ourselves in the foot in order to try to stop them. By attempting to hold them back we hold ourselves back. We cut our nose to spite our face. That's reality whether we want to believe it or not.

Our country is built on paradoxes. That's the polite way of saying it's built on hypocrisy. As George Carlin so eloquently said: "This country was founded by slave owners who wanted to be free." In a likewise fashion, this country was built by immigrants who wanted the door to immigration closed after them.

Our national rhetoric describes us as a "great melting pot" and a "nation of immigrants." However, in light of our national history, those seem more like lofty goals than a description of the reality on the ground. The name of our country is the "United" States of America, but we have yet to actually unite as a whole people. We just don't see "those people" are part of "us." If we did, these discussions would be so very different.

That's about as foundational of an issue as you are going to find. America was indeed built on racism itself, the deeply-ingrained notion that groups are to be divided and treated differently (with some treated as though they were better and others lesser) than others. American pioneering was built on the unquestioned assumption that natives did not have rights. The economy was built on the assumption that Africans were not fully human. Established immigrants keep treating newly-arrived immigrants as not deserving of the same opportunities that they themselves had. These notions, these assumptions—this sin—is at the core fabric of what it means to be American. And we need the Holy Spirit to help us repent, restore, offer penance and reconcile with one another.

This is racism. It impacts nearly everything we do. In short, it's why we can't have nice things. It is so ingrained in us to divide people up and value some lives more than others that we don't even realize we are doing it. And racism is indeed America's original sin.

A Climate of Trust

How do we build trust?

Do you remember the mid-80s hit "A Matter of Trust" by Billy Joel ? You might have to be a Gen X'er like myself or older.

That song has been going through my mind when I think about the debate over climate change.

Why are so many people opposed to the conclusions that scientists have reached? No amount of scientific data seems to change some hearts and minds on this issue—even though it should. Sharing statistics, charts, data and reports doesn't seem to budge the opposition. Most of us do not have advanced degrees in science but usually we do not need that to take what scientists do seriously.

Without spending any time at all listening deeply to what scientists say, many people just disregard their findings and say, "Nah, that can't be possible." On top of that, they want others to respect their opinion, as if their feeling—which they arrived at with no time or study whatsoever—is somehow equal to the evidence-based conclusions of people who have dedicated their wholes lives to deep study of the topic.

Yet, people trust scientists all the time: Whenever you fly in an airplane, use a computer to surf the internet, heat a frozen burrito in a microwave, trust a surgeon to perform open-heart surgery on you or check your app for upcoming weather predictions, you are showing a great deal of confidence in the work of scientists.

When meteorologists predict a Category 5 hurricane, people pack up their belongings and get outta town. Yet, when these same scientists use the same kinds models to predict climate change, many seem to think that there is enough uncertainty that they don't have to do much of anything at all about it. Admittedly, there is a difference between forecasting next week's weather and forecasting the next century's climate, but there are also more similarities than most realize. We all know that meteorologists can be wrong. Hurricanes can change speed and direction. We saw that with Irma this past summer. That being said, anyone in a high risk area who is wise has packed their essentials and evacuated when a big storm has been predicted.

The hurricane may change direction here or there, but the overall fact that a very large storm was occurring and moving in a general direction was spot on. The same is true for climate change: A few details may change as it plays out, but the overall prediction is probably not going to change. So why aren't people reacting the same way to climate change, which is by far more dangerous?

Yet, people who deny climate change act behaving like someone lounging around on the beach with flip-flops and a swimsuit with a Category 5 hurricane headed straight for them  Complete, total denial means not taking any precautions whatsoever.  All scientists know there is a margin of error, but so far what they have discovered is that the changing climate is far more significant than most early models predicts.

It's a Matter of Trust

I have come to realize that the real issue with accepting the conclusions of scientists about climate really has nothing to do with science at all. It's a matter of trust. Many people simply don't trust scientists and therefore do not heed what they say. Scientists are just East or West Coast liberals, right? Many scientists have a reputation for being atheists (not all of them). They often have different political views. So when they come along and say that the earth is warming and that human are the primary cause, well, it's hard to take this message seriously if you don't trust the messenger. Most people do not have the time, skills or inclination to wade through a landslide of peer reviewed scientific papers to reach their own conclusions.

People do this all the time. Whenever a piece of evidence arrives that challenges a person's worldview, the most common response is to simply disregard the new evidence. You would think the best response would be to adjust their worldview in light of new evidence! But that's not what seems to happen. People ignore the new evidence or assume there must be some flaw in it.

When someone comes along who you don't trust, then you probably assume that whatever numbers or charts they bear have simply been rigged at worst or are shortsighted at best to give faulty conclusions. It is easy to believe that the data is simply skewed or botched to serve a purpose.

I think a similar issue happens when people deny the evidence for human-caused climate change. It's not as much that they don't believe the message—the bigger issue is that they don't trust the messenger. No amount of evidence is going to change their minds because the problem is not a lack of evidence—it is a lack of trust in the person sharing the evidence. Oil and gas companies have helped to take advantage of this lack of trust and intensify it with a denial campaign.

The climate change denial campaign has convinced folks to "follow the money." They seem to think that the world's scientists have some kind of financial interest in pushing for climate change. This baffles me. I'm still trying to figure out how virtually all of the world's scientists—for decades and decades—in every country on earth—with no financial relationship to each other whatsoever—are in some kind of a grand conspiracy to make up the story about climate change to somehow... get a new tax plan with energy credits? It's foolish.

It's much more obvious to conclude that the oil and gas industry is purposefully promoting doubt because it stands to make a lot of profit if it can delay the world's acceptance of climate change.  And guess what? There is actual evidence for this, as the oil and gas industry has been caught doing this very thing.

Psychologists call this projection:  Accusing the other side of doing the very thing you are doing.

You won't find evidence of the world's scientists in a massive conspiracy because it is simply not happening. But this isn't about evidence—it's a matter of trust.  So how do we build that trust? What is standing in the way? We trust scientists all the time about numerous things every minute of every day. You are using a computer or smart phone to read this because of the work of scientists in multiple fields. What makes climate change any different?

Should Bloggers Smell like the Sheep, too?

Pope Francis is famous for saying that priests (and presumably other church leaders and ministers) should "be shepherds living with the smell of the sheep." This statement is often repeated and resonates like a mantra. And rightly so—it reflects a powerful vision of accompaniment, solidarity and servant leadership.

The statement has been greeted with proverbial cheers by the masses who know all too well the problems that can arise when church leaders are too distant from the lives of the people they are attempting to shepherd.

Leaders—especially those who aspire to imitate Christ—lead best when they are close to the people. This closeness can be expressed in many ways, from sharing in the same lifestyle, sharing in the sufferings and just being geographically close.

I’m privileged to work for an organization that lives this out very well. The missionary priests, brothers and lay co-workers of GlenmaryHome Missioners walk close to the people they serve in the small towns and hollers of the rural US South.

However, Pope Francis has made another, very similar statement that has failed to grab the imagination of the people the way the first one has. It was initially shared by Catholic media but has all but disappeared with the passing news cycle.

Pope Francis has also said theologians should also "smell of the people and of the road."

The second clause is great emphasis:  Not only are theologians charged with having the smell of the people, but Francis also thinks they need to be on the road. In other words, they need to be out there in the muck and mire of the world, rather than some secluded office. He doesn't use the word "sheep" here presumably because academics are not necessarily pastors, but to the extent that we all minister to each other, we are both sheep and shepherd at times.

Admittedly, Francis shared this statement in quite a different format than the one about clerics. The first statement was said in one of his first Masses as pope when he had the world's attention. The second was in a letter to faculty at a university in Argentina two years into his pontificate. Still, I tend to believe that the statement could have taken on the urgency of the first if only we had ears to hear. Other offhanded comments by Francis have captured the world's attention, after all.

Perhaps the statement about theologians has been forgotten because it points the finger at a great many of us. I take his comment to apply not just to professional academics but also to us amateur and professional bloggers and commentators on the faith—in other words, just about all of us. It’s easy to point the fingers at those church leaders—it’s harder to point the finger at ourselves.

Everyone has different gifts. Some are thinkers. Some are healers. Some are pastors. Some are activists. Some are janitors, dish washers, nurses and mentors. However, there is something amiss when a life is completely un-integrated—for example, when someone is predominately a thinker and little else. I have known people who are profound theologians who flounder—if they bother to make any attempt at all—at integrating any of that theological insight into their lifestyle and actions. One of my first mentors was one such person. Probably the greatest lesson he taught me was the one he didn't intend. I have worked hard in the years since to see his example as a cautionary tale. There are reasons, of course, why people become so fragmented, and my intention is to learn from them without judging too harshly.

People love the Church Mothers and Fathers. These were great writers and holy people from the very early Church. Even 2,000 years later, their writings are still powerful and capture our attention. One thing that just about all of these people had in common was they seemed to display a very integrated faith life. They were profound theologians. They also lived holy lives. Some wrote—literally—on the road to martyrdom. They lived lives of sacrifice, dedication, some in solidarity with the poor and doing what we would refer to today as "activism." Their lived experience was not simply in addition to their theology—rather, it seems their theology was all the stronger because of this lived experience.

A biblical scholar once noticeably scoffed at me when I suggested that Fr. Daniel Berrigan's exploration of the Book of Job was one of the most helpful in my scholarly studies of the book. As an activist priest who has been very close to suffering all this life, including spending years in prison for the cause of the gospel, perhaps Fr. Berrigan had a better chance of truly understanding the message of Job than an academic sitting alone in a comfortable library. Rigorous academic study is important (as I'm sure Berrigan would have agreed), but it is worth asking whether we can truly understand the biblical texts outside of a lived experience of suffering, oppression and the other contexts out of which the biblical authors wrote? In other words, can you truly understand Job if you don't, well, smell like Job?

I've had suffering in my life, but I am quite comfortable today writing in my warm home on a mild Ohio day. It's hard to willingly leave my comfort zone to be close to the ones I am ministering to, whether that involves suffering, oppression or simply change and discomfort. But that is why Francis' words are a much needed challenge to me and perhaps also to a great many of us. They help me examine the ways I have—and more importantly, have not—theologized from a position of closeness to the sheep while being out there on the road.