By Patrick Anderson, editor
Suddenly the fingers of a human hand appeared and wrote on the plaster of the wall, near the lampstand in the royal palace. The king watched the hand as it wrote. His face turned pale and he was so frightened that his legs became weak and his knees were knocking (Daniel 5: 5-6).
Several years ago I sat in front of a plantation house in Jamaica as the sun set across the sea and watched as the darkness totally enveloped the vast estate. I imagined how it must have felt to be a member of the slave-holding family living in that house in 1830. For centuries, slaves stolen from their homes in Africa had been forced to clear the land, build the buildings, till the soil, and harvest huge amounts of sugarcane making the slave-owners and their families extremely wealthy. The slaves from Africa were not the first slaves to be used by the white Christians from Europe. The first were the original inhabitants of the island whose numbers rapidly decreased due to diseases brought to them by the European invaders, and the harsh conditions of slavery imposed on them in the name of Christian evangelism. The slave-owners and their families lived like royalty in their mansions, their every whim met by obedient slaves, while their slaves lived in squalid conditions, forced to labor under the whip.
As I sat outside the relic plantation house, I considered what it must have been like in that house on the nights leading up to and during the Baptist War of 1831, the slave rebellion so named because of the pivotal role Sam Sharpe, a black Baptist lay preacher, played in the large revolt in western Jamaica, which resulted in massive destruction of property and a bloody and brutal repression by the government. The white inhabitants of the palatial house had heard of the killings of other slave-owners and their families throughout the island. They could smell the smoke from the burning plantations and fields of sugarcane, see the glow of raging fires on the horizon, and had the inescapable knowledge that before long, even on that night perhaps, their slaves would rise up and unleash their fury on them.
I wondered if the terror about the impending doom the slave-owners felt was compounded by their deep knowledge that they deserved what was about to happen to them, that justice was on the side of the slaves and against the slave-owners and their families. Surely they understood that if the tables had been turned, that if it were the Africans who had captured, bought and bred white Europeans as slaves and forced them to live and toil under inhuman conditions, those white Europeans would have been justified to rebel, to cast off the shackles, to drive the slave-owners and their families into the sea. After all, had not the white colonialists rebelled against the relatively benign rule of Great Britain in America to the north? Had they not reacted in violence to conditions far less odious than slavery? Could they not know that the natural reaction of the oppressed is to fight the oppressors? Had they not read the lofty language of the French and American Revolutions? Did they not understand the universal human sentiment for liberty?
They felt fear, surely. But they also had to feel guilt. No matter how they were taught to interpret certain Bible passages to rationalize the chattel slavery of Africans, some of them at least must have known they were wrong, that if they were slaves they too would revolt. Surely they understood the incredible disconnect between the ideals of freedom as expressed in the American Declaration of Independence and the enslavement of an entire race of people. Or, was it left for future generations of the descendants of white Christian European enslavers and those who benefitted from the slave system to reconcile with the evil and injustice of it all?
When news of the slave revolts and the destruction of the slave systems in Jamaica and Haiti reached the slave-owners in Georgia and South Carolina and throughout America, it struck fear into the hearts of white people. White people, and not only the slave-owners in America, lived in fear of a slave revolt and took deadly and drastic steps to quash any sign of rebellion. Whether or not the white people knew deep down that slavery was wrong, that if they themselves were slaves they would feel justified to rebel, something struck fear and guilt in their hearts. There must have been many sleepless nights in the big houses. When the Babylonian king saw a hand writing words on the wall of his palace, he was absolutely terrified even before he knew what the words meant. He knew he had done wrong; and so were the hearts of slave-owners and their families convicted with the sin of what they were doing.
The anti-slavery campaigns in Britain, and the outright rebellion on the slave island of Jamaica in 1830, drove the slave population in large numbers to their refuge of first resort, the company of fellow Christians. African slaves outnumbered their white masters by 10 to one, and they knew their Bible, the story of Moses and the exodus from Egypt, the proclamation of Jesus who said he had come to “bring release to the captives.” They knew that God did not intend for them to live in chattel slavery and they gathered together as a formidable force, worshipful and courageous.
Perhaps I am wrong in thinking that some of the white plantation residents felt guilty for their slaving practices. Maybe I have the advantage of historical, theological and cultural perspective that those people did not have. Maybe.
Most white people in the 1800s on the Caribbean Islands and in the United States thought of themselves as superior to the dark-skinned people they knew only as slaves. Today, only the despicable white nationalists seem to openly express the belief in white supremacy. But there is still a deeply held undercurrent, usually unspoken, of white supremacy which infects the beings of a large proportion of white people. Why else would white people be so blind to the harmful effects of slavery and the aftermath of slavery for the descendants of slaves in America?
White people tend to think of slavery as ancient history (get over it!), and the Jim Crow society of the 20th century as “just the way we were raised.” We deny, deflect, minimize and rationalize injustice. Today, we are again in the middle of a tiresome debate in America, that is whether we are a society of exclusion or pluralism, whether we are E Pluribus Unum or One Nation Under God (understood as only Jehovah and Jesus). One view sees America as the champion for the poor and dispossessed, drawing strength from its pluralism. The other view understands the greatness of America to be found in its white and Christian origins.
The disparities between the rich and poor have never been greater. We are experiencing a swelling tide of disadvantage among descendants of American slaves including poverty, lack of health care, joblessness, low pay, predatory financial systems, police shootings, church burnings, voter suppression, mass terrorism, mass incarceration and so much more. Our recent 20th century legacy of discrimination is bad; but the 21st century is not doing so well either, despite the much- touted advances in race relations.
As a white American, I have been blind to the structural and institutional injustice in America throughout my lifetime. I can no longer plead cultural ignorance. White supremacy infects every aspect of my white identity. To deny or ignore this fact is to argue like a deaf person. When two deaf persons argue vehemently in sign language, sometimes one will make a strong point and then close her or his eyes, turning away from the other, therefore making it impossible for any contrary point to penetrate. You cannot argue with deaf people who close their eyes.
It is not relevant that my family heritage did not include slaveholders, or slave merchants, or members of lynching gangs. The fact is that I (we) as a white American have been complicit in and have benefitted from white supremacy, racism and white privilege and that complicity and those benefits have come to us at the expense of the suffering of the battered and robbed people of color. Anyone questioning this historical fact need only read the large body of literature on the subject. From the end of the Civil War which “ended slavery” in America, until today, our laws and practices have worked to disadvantage people of color and to benefit people like me.
I did not ask to be born white; it just happened. My life has not been trouble-free nor without travail. But because I was born white, I was dealt a good hand or, as some say it, I was born on first, or second or third base. My life did not start behind the eight ball. Like all white people in America, I inherited white privilege and am a recipient of the benefits of a pro-white world. I am a member of the dominant class, not the dominated one.
The millions of people who were born in slavery, and the millions since born to the descendants of those slaves, through no choice of their own, inherited the undeserved disadvantages of the dominated class. I have benefitted from being born a white person in a pro-white world, while descendants of slaves have suffered and continue to suffer undeserved detriments. This is not right, and the fact that I have undeservedly benefitted from this unjust system brings a level of pain that impels me to want to do something to correct it. The weight of the sin of white supremacy and the injustice emanating therefrom will not be assuaged until and unless the debt is paid down. However we consider what that payment entails, it is clear that an economic, financial aspect is called for.
It is painful for us white people to confront the truth about the relationship between the historical abuse and misuse of power by white people and the injury, harm and loss resulting from the historical and continuing injustice toward people of color. That’s why it is so hard for white people to admit that we have benefited from racism, white supremacy and racial injustice.
We suffer from intentional blindness to these facts. We deny, close our eyes and rationalize the obvious situation we live in. Honest analysis of the question of reparations for the descendants of American slaves and the victims of racism and white supremacy throughout our history compels us to confront the hellish truth that this society was founded, funded and ultimately has continued to operate to benefit wealthy white men. We have, either wittingly or unwittingly, endorsed systems, practices and policies that are abusive to all other communities of color. That is the unpleasant truth about the history of this society.
If we take seriously the belief that we are members of the body of Christ and that each member of that body is important and necessary, then I cannot ignore my (our) complicity (1 Cor. 12). As a follower of Jesus, I cannot bypass the confession I must make. Why are these confessions important? Because the truth of history and the truth of injustice compel confession as does the truth of the privilege it affords me (us) and denies others (descendants of American slaves). Seeing these things challenges Christian beliefs and values and requires appropriate action.
Therefore, I confess: I have purchased houses through an advantageous mortgage system; borrowed money at low interest to make improvements; and sold the property after appreciation in value, therefore “building wealth.” Meanwhile, my black sisters and brothers were “red lined” into disadvantaged neighborhoods, denied credit, saw their property deteriorate in value, and were trapped in a cycle of disadvantage. The places I have lived were segregated unnecessarily due to racist housing policies. Lest you think these observations no longer apply to today’s America, consider that as recently as 2011, Wells Fargo Banks and Bank of America paid settlements of hundreds of millions of dollars for bilking African Americans into ruinous sub-prime mortgage products called “ghetto loans” for “mud people” by loan officers.
I confess: I have not been subject to the daily toll of racism. I have not been followed around by security agents while shopping. I have not been assumed to be armed and dangerous while reaching for my billfold during a traffic stop. I have not feared that my sons would be mistakenly shot by police when they went out at night with their friends. I have never been stereotyped because of my pigmentation.
I confess: The textbooks and other materials I was given during 12 years of public education were in good repair and up-to-date. I was able to attend a private segregated, well-funded college where I was taught by well-educated and credentialed faculty.
I confess: I know some racist jokes.
I confess: The Baptist churches I have attended, supported and ministered in throughout my life were built and paid for through a system of advantage for white people. The theology taught at the Baptist schools I attended was nurtured in the 19th century and before by justifying and advocating for chattel slavery of Africans, and throughout the 20th century supported and benefitted from segregation, racist public policy and white supremacist understandings of race and culture.
I confess: Although I share the skin pigmentation of white supremacists who have been responsible for the majority of mass killings in America, I have never felt ostracized or disadvantaged due to the melanin in my skin.
Can we white folks not admit that we have benefitted from white supremacy? Let us confess these things. If you are like me, you have been blind to many of the various issues and historical facts discussed by the writers in this issue of Christian Ethics Today. As Christians, and as people wishing to be known as ethical, we should be first to acknowledge, confess and repent that our privilege has caused others to suffer and continue to suffer.
There is much more to contemplate. But having confessed, and repented, what then can I (we) do to correct the ledger? Zacchaeus figured it out rather quickly.
In a conversation with my friend Judge Wendell Griffen one day, we took on the subject of reparations. I said, “Wendell, no one in my family tree ever owned slaves. I abhor everything about slavery and believe its proponents were in sin. What debt do I have? What do you want me to do–write you a check?” I went on to describe my own understanding of the complexity of the matter, sounding more like an apologist for continuing the indifference regarding the lasting effects of the sin of white supremacy. In his tolerant and loving manner and, as a true friend, he began the process of informing this arrogant, flippant white man. Evidence of his friendship is exhibited in the tolerance he has exhibited. He has yet to slap me silly.
The truth is that any payment for 400 years of injustice is not a simple matter. It took lifetimes to build this unequal situation, and it may take more lifetimes to destroy it; but neither should the matter be left to the victims of injustice to solve. Like Zacchaeus, the solution is found in the hearts of the offenders under the prompting of the Holy Spirit. Once our eyes are opened to the truth of history and, once we understand our complicity in the systemic injustices which have benefitted us at the expense of the descendants of American slaves and, once we are called to the altar to repent, then and only then can we be open to seeing American society as it is.
The deep rifts between black and white Christians in the American church must be bridged one relationship at a time, to be sure. But the deep, institutional aspects of racism cannot be remedied through the mere presence of friendships and interpersonal relationships, as important as they are. The institutions of government, business, churches and denominations, educational institutions, business and commerce are slow to change and need prodding to do so. We must start somewhere.
I see the handwriting on the wall for us. We do not understand it, but as Daniel interpreted the words for the Babylonian king, so have many followers of Jesus interpreted the writing for us. Like the king, we tend to look at the words and immediately lose our balance, become weak, and our knees begin to knock. We know we have done wrong. But for us, unlike the king for whom the judgement was pronounced, the words need not express doom.
Daniel translated the writing for Belshazzar saying:
“This is the inscription that was written: MENE, MENE, TEKEL, PARSIN “Here is what these words mean: Mene : God has numbered the days of your reign and brought it to an end. Tekel : You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting. Peres : Your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians.” …That very night Belshazzar, king of the Babylonians, was slain, Daniel 5: 25-28, 30
The journey toward redemption and reconciliation is still available to us through God’s grace. One good place to begin the journey, I believe, is to read the essays in this issue of Christian Ethics Today, acquainting ourselves with the writings and expressions of the good women and men who have written herein, and seeking out other literature on the subject of race and reading it in the spirit of our Christian faith.
