Francois Ntone

My White Church and My Black Church

When I moved to Columbus, Indiana, 29 years ago, I joined an all-white church called First Lutheran Church.  For nine years my wife Petra and I were the only black members attending the church at the time.  This did not necessarily represent a drastic change for us.  After I came to the United States from Africa, I had close relationships with a core of black people, but overall, I must say that I had more daily interactions with white people.  Indeed, as an undergraduate engineering student, I had a total of two black classmates for a short amount of time.  In graduate school, all my teachers and classmates were white.  Therefore being the only black guy around was nothing new to me.  As for my wife, she has always been a rather “international” type of person.  Born in New York, she grew up in San Diego, California.  She spent some of her elementary school years in Mexico and learned to speak Spanish.  In high school, her best friends were a white American girl, a Japanese American girl and a white American boy with Australian roots.  Overall, even though she takes her black roots very seriously, she has always been at ease with people of all backgrounds, and after she graduated from college, she joined the Peace Corps and spent two years in Brazil.

I cannot point to any incident that might have made me feel unwelcome because of my race while I was at First Lutheran Church.  I think I got along well with the people I interacted with.  I was selected to be a member of the Church Council even though I gave no indication that I was interested in such a position.  I even reluctantly became the first chairman of the newly created Mutual Ministry committee which was in charge of staff support and conflict resolution.  I developed good relationships with many members.  But I also knew that some of the members, especially the older ones, felt uncomfortable with the issue of race.  One day, an older lady approached me with a big smile.  She told me that during a conversation with another member, she had tried to mention me, but could not remember my name.  So she tried to describe my wife and me, referring to us as “both very intelligent”.  I couldn’t help thinking that the easiest way to describe us would have been “the black couple”.  Somehow, this nice lady did not feel comfortable making any allusion to race.

Occasionally I brought up my skin color for my own amusement.  One Wednesday evening, before Bible study began, I was sitting on one side of the meeting room, reviewing my lesson.  One lady I knew quite well came in and chatted with a few people in attendance.  She then walked out and came back a few minutes later.  At that point she saw me and said something like “Hey Francois, I did not realize you were here!  I was here earlier and did not see you!”  I smiled and said: “You must be color blind!”  She did not immediately react because she was distracted by somebody else.  But another lady who was sitting next to me looked at me in disbelief and said to everybody: “Did you hear what he said?”  Obviously I had ventured into taboo territory.

When Petra and I transferred our membership from First Lutheran Church to Second Baptist Church, everybody knew that our decision was not the result of any disappointment with First Lutheran, but was a deliberate move as we wanted to contribute more to the black community.  Pastor Jim Kuchera stated that while he was saddened by our departure, he applauded our decision.  Ironically, our transfer provided an opportunity for the two churches to get closer to each other.  Pastor Kuchera and Bishop Carl Russell of Second Baptist Church met and became friends.  That year, at the Mayor’s Prayer Breakfast, they did something remarkable and unexpected.  They both stood up and Pastor Kuchera publicly confessed to Bishop Russell that he had been guilty of the sin of racism.  He promised to repent and be a better Christian.  Then Bishop Russel made a similar confession to Pastor Kuchera.  After that, the two churches started getting together at least once a year, and members of both churches got to know each other.

America’s Original Sin by Jim Wallis

In his latest book America’s Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege, and the Bridge to a New America, Jim Wallis declares that racism is not merely a political problem.  It is a sin from which America must repent.  It is in fact America’s original sin because of its direct linkage to the foundational history of the nation, a history that led to prosperity for white Americans at the detriment of Native Americans and black slaves.  Wallis, who is white, provides a concise historical background for the problem of race in America as it progressed from the overt racism of the past to the more subtle concept of white privilege.  He calls on white Americans, and white churches in particular, to actively participate in the healing process.

Jim Wallis denounces the historical separation between white and black churches, pointing out that inclusiveness is an integral part of the gospel of Christ.  It is well known that the Bible has been misused by many for the justification of racism and the exclusion of those who are considered as different.  Wallis makes abundant use of Bible verses to demonstrate what should have been trivial to all Christians from the very beginning: the Church of Christ is by definition a diverse body that includes the aliens and society’s rejects.  He supports his call for inclusiveness with a range of biblical pronouncements, from the Old Testament mandate to care for the needy and the alien, to the command to love one’s neighbor as oneself, and Paul’s description of the church as the body of Christ.  Just in case there is confusion on such matters, Wallis makes his point with clarity in order to remind all Christians of their duty.

If Christians are to lead the way, then they must treat racism as a sin, a fact understood by Pastor Kuchera and Bishop Russell as I described in my personal story above.  This sin should be clearly identified and exposed, and repentance must follow.  Jim Wallis is very specific about what he means by repentance: a complete transformation that makes an individual fully committed to the guiding principles of Jesus’ kingdom of God.  What makes this book very useful is that Wallis relies on his own experience.  The book is a report written by a man who dedicated his life to social justice, identifying with and fighting for those who have no voice of their own.  His life has been guided by his faith with the understanding that faith has to be “both personal and public”.  His prescriptions for the healing process and the building of a “bridge to a new America” include lessons he learned on the ground.  In my opinion, those who are interested in matters related to the kingdom of God as proclaimed by Jesus will benefit from reading this book.

Harsh Words from Joshua Ryan Butler

Before I read America’s Original Sin, I read a review of it by Joshua Ryan Butler in the January/February 2016 issue of Christianity Today magazine.  I suppose I would not have purchased it if I had taken Butler’s recommendation seriously.  After I read the book, I went back and looked at Butler’s criticism again, and felt compelled to state my disagreement here.

To his credit, Butler starts his review by conceding that some aspects of the book are useful contributions.  He also recognizes Wallis’ engagement in the fight for social justice, a fact he expresses as follows:

“Third, Wallis walks the talk.  He has been on the front lines for decades, listening to and pleading on behalf of minority voices, living in rough neighborhoods, and working for grassroots change.  Whatever you think of his progressive political leanings, you can’t help being moved by the flesh-and-blood encounters that have shaped his perspective”.

The first two sentences in this statement seem to unequivocally commend Wallis for his work.  The last sentence, on the other hand, contains an implicit assumption that Jim Wallis has questionable political leanings.  It does not occur to Butler that Wallis acts the way he does precisely because of his Christian faith.  He goes on to present what he calls “three significant concerns”.

The first concern is that Wallis misused the concept of “original sin” because “God doesn’t figure prominently in either Wallis’s analysis of the problem or his proposed solution”.  He then explains that while racism is a serious problem, “original sin involves wanting to rule the earth without God.  At bottom, it’s a form of rebellion.  Of course, that rebellion has poisoned not only our relationship with God but also our relationships with each other – and racism is its bitterest fruits.  But Wallis invokes ‘original sin’ primarily with the horizontal dimension in mind, giving minimal attention to the God-ward dimension”.

This statement probably summarizes Butler’s core issue with the book, his feeling that Jim Wallis is more political than “God-centered”, and this idea will reappear in the rest of his “concerns”.  But I cannot help wandering if Butler truly thinks the above statement is helpful.  Or is he merely showing that he knows something about theology?  I am sure white Christians who promoted racist attitudes had definitions of “original sin” fairly similar to his, but that did not keep them from using various scriptural passages to deny human rights to people of color.  The very fact that Wallis insists on calling racism a sin implies that he sees it as contrary to God’s will.  He explains that he calls it original sin because he traces it back to America’s beginnings.  In case Butler did not notice, Wallis devotes a significant portion of the book explaining that racism is absolutely inconsistent with the principles taught by Jesus and his apostles.  What could be more “God-ward” than that?  Doesn’t Jesus define Christianity?  Considering that Jesus himself did not mention “original sin” in his interactions with his disciples, Butler will need to convince some of us that the true test of Christianity is properly defining “original sin”.

Continuing along this line, Butler then criticizes Jim Wallis for improper use of words such as conversion, belief and repentance:

“This highlights a broader problem: Wallis makes constant use of terms like ‘conversion,’ ‘belief,’ and ‘repentance,’ but with a social emphasis that flattens out their theological shape.  So for white people, Wallis says, believing black experiences will lead first to a conversion of perspective, followed by repentance manifested in commitment to political change.  While I sympathize with the sentiment, it’s not specifically Christian just because it retains recognizably Christian language.”

I think Wallis is fully aware of the great emphasis put by Christians on the ideas of conversion, belief and repentance.  By applying them to the specific sin of racism, he is simply asking self-professed Christians to act like true Christians, instead of being hypocrites who use God’s name every day but whose lives do not reflect the most basic teachings of their Lord and Savior.  If Butler thinks he gets more credit for using God’s name more often, and for using the correct definitions for “Christian” terminology, he should remember Jesus’ words: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 7:21).  There is no question that it is God’s will to love one’s neighbor.  And when Jesus defines “neighbor”, he points to a Samaritan as a model for all of us.  While the Samaritan is despised by the proud religious establishment, he is the one who is willing to care for a complete stranger in need.  Wallis is merely telling white Christians that dismissing black stories without trying to understand them impedes progress towards racial healing.  That is what he means by “believing” black people, and this seems like a very simple concept that should not be the source of controversy.  Overall, Wallis is asking “Christians” to be Christians.  Christians are called to transform the world simply by acting like Christians and being models for others to follow.

I find Butler’s second concern even more puzzling:

“A second concern is that, in Wallis’s telling, the nation seems to displace the church as the dynamic center of God’s redemptive activity.  The book implicitly treats America – rather than the body of Christ in union with its Lord – as God’s blessed community and the prime witness to the diversity of his kingdom.”

I think the key word in this statement is “implicitly”.  Butler draws a conclusion that is so implicit that I completely fail to see it. In fact the opposite is true.  Wallis would like America to correct its past mistakes and become more like God’s blessed community.  He primarily appeals to Christians because they have been entrusted by Christ with the task of transforming the world, including the United States of America, where he has lived since the day he was born.  Christians are not expected to be neutral by-standers in a world or a nation where injustice is rampant.  They have an agenda, which is to promote the kingdom of God.  This is a mandate from Christ.  Is Butler one of those who think the kingdom of God is supposed to be in heaven and not on earth?  I assume that is not the case because I’m sure he knows the Lord’s Prayer: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.”  But I am puzzled by statements such as the following:

“In a telling moment, Wallis points to Baltimore, offering the nonviolent presence of churches on the streets as a prime example of how the church can be the church (rather than as the fruit of its underlying allegiance to Christ).”

I assume Butler understands that the church is being the church when it protests against injustice in a non-violent manner.  But he seems to be making a subtle point that is difficult to defend: what makes him say that those churches were not moved by their allegiance to Christ?  If they were doing the right thing on the ground (and Butler seems to agree that they were), then is there any reason to believe they were doing it for reasons other than their commitment to Christ?  What is Butler’s alternative?  Is it to stay home and pray without getting involved?

Finally, Butler complains that “Wallis tends to approach biblical themes in a way that displaces the centrality of Jesus.”  As a first example of that, he says Wallis claims that all are children of God, which contradicts the New Testament theme of adoption that states that we become children of God through faith (Romans 18:15, Galatians 4:5-6).  He admits that it is legitimate to look at God the Creator as the father of all humanity, but I suppose he wants to make sure the special status of those who have gone through the Christian conversion process is acknowledged.  But this is trivial stuff.  The whole point about conversion is the transformation that must occur within an individual as a result of his encounter with Christ.  In discussing that transformation, the apostle Paul sometimes refers to a “new creation”, and sometimes to “children of God”.  Who cares which terminology is used?  Who cares whether somebody chooses to call that process adoption or something else?  None of that changes the fact that God wants us to treat with decency other human beings who are created by him just as much as we are.  Should there even be a debate on that?

Butler also suggests that Wallis uses Matthew 25 improperly.  The passage under debate is the one referred to as The Sheep and the Goats in the New Testament.  For convenience, the entire passage is reproduced here.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people from one another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you game me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The king will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.  For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”  (Matthew 25:31-46)

This passage is an indictment of much of Christendom if one refers to the imperfections of the church throughout history.  It is not my intention to analyze all of its implications here, as I want to focus on Butler’s objection.  Butler indicates that Wallis believes the passage “commands us to care for the needy”.  He even concedes that “Matthew 25 has long spurred believers to exercise hospitality and charity toward people who are otherwise forgotten.”  But somehow, he feels that Wallis is going too far in his push for diversity.  Therefore he attempts to restore the proper perspective by stating the following:

“And don’t forget that the subject of Jesus’ words in Matthew 25 is ‘the least of these brothers and sisters of mine’ (v. 40, emphasis added).  The stress is on his followers.  There are certainly implications for embracing ‘the least of these’ on a broader, universal scope, but in a way that goes through rather than around the particularity of God’s people.”

The debate is about the two lines that I reproduced in bold.  Butler thinks the first one sets the context and implies that Jesus is primarily talking about Christians, whom he calls his brothers and sisters.  In other words, he thinks the acts of kindness Jesus is advocating are primarily about how to treat other Christians.  To him, including non-Christians is conceivable, but that is a stretch.  As for what he means by “through rather than around the particularity of God’s people”, let me confess I do not know what in the world he is talking about.  Perhaps he means non-Christians must be admitted in the church before they can benefit from Christian acts of kindness.  Butler is a smart man who, apparently, wrote a book called The Skeletons in God’s Closet.  Maybe some day I will read it to understand where he is coming from, and it is not my intention to say bad things about him.  I just happen to disagree with what he said in his review.  I think he will have to explain why Jesus includes strangers among those he calls brothers and sisters.  Jesus is talking about strangers like the one rescued by the Good Samaritan who knew nothing about him, but merely showed kindness to a human being in distress.  This is not a fringe case.  This is Jesus’ primary illustration for what he calls the second greatest commandment, which is to love one’s neighbor as oneself.

It is important to understand that Jesus always stood up for society’s rejects, referring to them either as “the least of these” or simply “the little ones”.  The parable of the lost sheep, as given in Matthew 18:10-14, starts with the words “See that you do not look down on one of these little ones.  For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.”  Jesus then goes on to explain that his Father is like a shepherd who will leave ninety-nine of his sheep to find a single one that wandered off, and is overjoyed when he finds that lost sheep.  The parable ends with these words: “In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost.”  In the parallel passage in Luke 15:1-7, Luke directly identifies those “little ones” when he reports the following: “Now the tax collectors and ‘sinners’ were all gathering around to hear him.  But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  Jesus then tells the parable of the lost sheep as a reaction to the comments made by the religious establishment.  In other words, Luke makes it clear that Jesus tells the parable of the lost sheep while standing up for tax collectors and “sinners”, who are not only society’s rejects, but are also spiritually lost.  Butler is simply wrong when he tries to limit the scope of Jesus’ words to Christians only.  If acts of kindness must be limited to Christians, then how does the kingdom of God grow?  How do “sinners” become part of it?

Butler ends his criticism by focusing on Wallis’ suggestion that facing the truth can help initiate an improvement process that may not only make Christians better Christians, but also make non-Christians better, whatever their religions are.  Butler is obviously a conservative Christian and the thought that non-Christians might be decent people is probably heresy to him.  But this is a discussion for another time.