After the murder of George Floyd, the awareness of the inequalities experienced by children of God who are Black and living in this country could no longer be ignored, shoved aside, or explained away. It has become clear that white privilege has blinded the church from the sin of racism and, quite frankly, we have some reckoning to do. The question we must ask ourselves is why have we been unable to see the work of racial justice as the work of following Jesus before now?

Right now, clergy and lay leaders are asking hard questions and seeking formation opportunities for their congregation in spades. Books that have been written about racial justice and Christianity are flying off the shelves in record numbers. The Sacred Ground website, with the materials commissioned by The Episcopal Church, has been a resource for so many looking for ways to engage their congregations in learning about the issues of race and living a life of faith that seeks justice. Clergy are reaching out to other clergy to ask questions about their experiences leading parishioner discussions and how to begin the hard conversations. Many parishes are abuzz with energy around the topic of racial justice. Navigating these very sensitive topics and the issues of privilege, injustice, and oppression can seem overwhelming. 

While the seeds of this work were planted in me as a lay person in my sponsoring parish, I found myself on the first day of my third-year seminary internship at a parish adjacent to a large public university, in a staff meeting where we planned how we would respond to a planned student protest that evening at the site of a Confederate statue about a thousand yards from the church’s front door. We scrambled to be hospitable to the protesters and to make a liturgy available in our chapel for those who were interested in coming in to pray. That same chapel was built in the 19th century by Black people enslaved by its first priest, and the slave gallery looms overhead, never far from the consciousness of the clergy and parishioners who worship there every day. That momentous fall day jettisoned our parish into a fall calendar of study and learning about systems of oppression, visiting a local neighborhood whose history of formerly Black-owned homes and businesses was being reclaimed, and beginning the hard conversations of reckoning with the sanitized version of the church’s proud history in the community. We dove right into our learning. It is hard work. It is uncomfortable work. And it started something that was long overdue. The leadership of this largely white, well-educated, and mostly upper-class parish saw that it had work to do and got busy doing it.

But not every church would have seized that opportunity to begin learning, just as there are many churches today who have clergy and parishioners who think that racial justice issues don’t belong in church; that the sin of racism is not as bad as the sin of, well, anything else they address from their pulpits and in their newsletters. I know these churches and these clergy intimately.

My last meeting with the Diocesan Commission on Ministry, the step in the process where you and the church are together discerning with God about moving from postulancy to candidacy, nearly cost me my vocational call. My honest answer to a seemingly innocent question ground my process to a halt. “So, tell us about the work you have been doing during your internship so far.” And with great enthusiasm and genuine passion, I shared the story of the protest on day one and how it led to the work I was doing of leading parishioners in study about racism, and of my planning for a day of service with over 120 parishioners to commemorate Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The more I shared, the more the (only) male clergy members of the committee squirmed and crossed their arms and slouched down in their chairs around our large table. While no direct feedback about the issue of racism was ever provided, and instead some vague “not enough Jesus” was used as the excuse, my process stalled right there. This group of clergy and lay leaders just simply didn’t believe that this was the work of the Gospel, I surmised, as I worked through piecing back together the process and eventually was able to move forward to ordination.

The work required from a covenantal relationship with God is laid out for us in our service of baptism, as we respond to the questions of the Baptismal Covenant with the phrase, “I will, with God’s help.

Will you continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers? I will, with God's help.

Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? I will, with God's help.

Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? I will, with God's help.

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? I will, with God's help.

Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?  I will, with God's help.

These closing sentences from the Baptismal Covenant in The Book of Common Prayer (p. 304-305) are words spoken by the person about to baptized, or on behalf of the person if they are too young to speak for themselves. The Episcopal Church believes that these questions are so important, that we answer them again on the occasion of our confirmation, reaffirming the expectations for members of God’s church.

We will, with God’s help. This is pretty convicting language. We will, with God’s help. We are not agreeing half-heartedly, but rather we are making a commitment and a promise to love as Christ loves us. And Christ gave up his life for us, so it seems as if our model for this love means we cannot stand for injustice. Each of us needs to believe in our commitment made at our baptism, and then take the first steps with ourselves and within our worshipping communities.

So, where do we start? We start with listening, learning, and leading. When is the last time you read a book on racism? Who was the last Black author whose book you read? Who are your friends in the community, and are they all white? We are responsible for our own learning, and there are a myriad of resources available to help you get started. (This list from The Episcopal Church is a great place to start.) And once we commit to starting our own learning and broadening our own understandings and perspectives, then we must also lead our congregations in understanding this is the work of the Gospel of Jesus. Our pulpits are not partisan, but our Jesus is certainly political. The Episcopal Church has a long history of shaping racially oppressive policies in our country and failing to take a stand until a few brave Christians lead the way.

Please understand this work comes at a price. Parishioners who cannot stomach the fragility of their whiteness, whose long-held beliefs will feel under attack and so they will push against this work, threaten to withhold their pledges, and resign from your vestry in protest. There will be whispers about your politics, and both quiet and deafening calls for things to go back to the way they used to be. And you will be learning as you go along, which means you will make mistakes and have to issue apologies and make course corrections. The cost may be low, or it may be quite high, but the cost will never be more than the cost of turning your back on the fullness of the Gospel of Jesus and the sharing of the Good News for every single person who hears it.

When the Church is absent from conversations around justice, people notice. When the body of the church groans amidst the growing pains of learning about the sin of racism, we know that we are doing the work of leading them and ourselves to be followers of Christ. The fact that we have not yet done the work of joining with Christ to seek justice for all people is something for which we ask for forgiveness from God as we change course and live as we are called by the prophet Micah:

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

And we will, with God’s help.