When I was a young boy my pastor held a friend of mine under the water until she passed out.

[izzybeans]

He also told me to keep an eye on the one black woman in the church, as the collection plate was passed. I never went back, neither did she. Nor did my mother, who had invited her that day. As a young white boy I only knew that what I was asked to do was wrong. I've had the privilege of not experiencing such bigotry. So I did not, could not see its magnitude or place it in context.

That woman was an English professor at the local college. She was one of my mother's best friends. If the pastor would of asked someone else that day, I may never have learned a valuable lesson. There are bigots in this world, I am not one of them, and I am comfortable knowing that.

You see, my mother's friend introduced me to black liberation theology that day (in practical terms). When I told her what went down, she suggested she might never step foot in a white church again. I wondered why. She taught me that this was all too common for her. That this was not the first time. I still wondered why and most of all wondered what she was going to do. She told me she would go back to the black church in town despite her not being Baptist. That this was where she could speak freely and attend service free from scorn. That she could sit comfortably, rather than under scrutiny; a place where she could testify about her grievances with the world where people could understand.

I know personally that she's not surprised by the race baiting going on with Pastor Wright. She's lived it her entire life. She's had to endure being called a bigot (the dreaded reverse racist, double reverse no backsies) by white women for discussing the role of the black woman in America, in a small town public library. She understands it to be a defense mechanism, a way to inoculate oneself from the tragedies of time and place; a way of denying the reality of social hierarchy and cultural conflict. If only they'd realize that they are not condemned to repeat history, if only they'd let go of their pride, listen, learn, discuss. If only they'd step down off the pedestal.

Now my pastor was a racist and a truly dangerous man. The attempted drowning happened a little while after that, after we had left. He said he was punishing her, and all that happened was that he was asked to leave the church. If I would of went to Trinity United after that I would of never left the church. Pastor Wright said nothing about race that we haven't all heard before. She would agree with him if she was on this board today. She'd also have the maturity to say, "Man your crazy for thinking all that AIDS hooey" and "Your momma taught you better than to talk about a woman like that." But she'd still respect the man, and if she were in Chicago, I have a feeling I know where she'd be on a Sunday.

This atheist is proud to say I learned the most valuable religious lesson of all that day, I can only love my neighbor when I am truly comfortable with myself. When it comes to crossing the color line, at first I was scared. It was hard to confront her about what happened that day, but I did, and we both walked away thankful. Today, I do not recoil in fear or lash out in anger when I hear people complain, sometimes vigorously, about past and current injustices. If I find a comment directed at me, it is easy to signal "right on" with the simple phrase, "I hear ya, let's work with a full color palate." When I hear a cherrypicked phrase like the U.S. of KKK, I fear not, for I know I am not one of them. I fear not, because I know I can always say "Ms. Professor, Ms. Professor, can we talk." It is funny what "just words" can do.

I'm also not naive enough to be unaware that there are a standard set of reactionary responses to expect below. But this is a formative experience for me and I'm fully aware that these things become idealized myths with time. So bear with me.

[Bluzmann57]

1. When I was a kid, about nine or ten

My mom and dad had a plot of land which they converted into garden space for inner city blacks so that they could learn to grow veggies and become more self sufficient as well as feeling more dignified. Now you have to understand that we lived in a real small town, around 2500 people or so and the people (the gardeners) usually came in carloads from an inner city church of a larger city that my parents were familiar with. The garden was done with the spirit of friendship and co-operation between people of all races.
Well, one day, I was riding my bike like youngsters do, and a pastor of a local church hollered out at me, "Tell your mom to get those n***s out of town!" I knew that particular word was wrong so I decided to go home and talk this over with my mom. She was aghast that the particular pastor would say or even think such a thing and after she explained that some people were just plain ignorant, she called him and read him the riot act. The pastor was a fundie, and my parents attended (still do) another church in the same town where tolerance and acceptance is taught and encouraged. Anyway, the pastor left town shortly thereafter, but you can bet that the congregants of that particular church felt the same way he did, at least for the most part. But they were not going to say anything to me or my "n*** loving" family because they couldn't deal with the strength we had due to our peaceful and tolerant ways. I guess the point is that not all church goers are bad, but certain fundies give a lot of religions a black eye with their rigid world views.
edited for a slight punctuation error.

[izzybeans]

2. Thanks for sharing.

:)

[izzybeans]

3. Ahh Yes, finally off for vacation.

Goodbye cruel, but absolutely hilarious GD-P, in a tragic-comedy sort of way. I can't wait to see what the new obsession will be when I get back. Hopefully at least you can try not to turn this place into a right-wing echo chamber. Well anyway thanks for the surreal experience.

I'm out. For a while. To return another day. :)