Race and Theology

By Dr. Elaine A. Robinson

White privilege and racial injustice persist in the Church; and despite a commitment to promote justice for all, racism is a reality of life, and has been since before the founding of our nation. In addition throughout most of our nation’s history, theology, as a discipline, has remained silent about racism and, at its worst, overtly supported racist practices. This book, examines: 1) what racism is and how it functions, especially in the contemporary setting; 2) how the United States has claimed to be God’s chosen nation, yet systematically disadvantages persons of color; 3) how theology’s silence sustains racial injustice in the Church, rather than excises it; and 4) how reformulating theological discourse can contribute to racial justice within ecclesial communities and the larger landscape of society.

The Horizons in Theology series offers brief but highly engaging essays on the major concerns and questions in theological studies. Each volume addresses in a clear and concise style the scope and contours of a fundamental question as it relates to theological inquiry and application; sketches the nature and significance of the subject; and opens the broader lines of discussion in suggestive, evocative, and programmatic ways. Written by senior scholars in the field, and ideally suited as supplements in the classroom, Horizons will be an enduring series that brings into plain language the big questions of theology. It will inspire a new generation of students to eagerly embark on a journey of reflective study.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abingdon Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781426765377

Dr. Elaine A. Robinson

Elaine A Robinson is Academic Dean and Associate Professor of United Studies and Theology at Saint Paul School of Theology at Oklahoma City University (the second campus for Saint Paul).

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

White theologians and philosophers write numerous articles and books on theodicy, asking why God permits massive suffering, but they hardly ever mention the horrendous crimes Whites have committed against people of color in the modern world. Why do White theologians ignore racism?

—James H. Cone

In his Prescription against Heretics, Tertullian penned his memorable and influential question, What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem? In the late second century, Tertullian posited an antithetical relationship between the Greek philosophical tradition and scriptural Christianity. Of course, later interpreters of Tertullian’s writings recognize his dependence upon philosophical speculation such that his privileging of Christian doctrine may not represent the anti-intellectualism some have supposed. Nonetheless, the positioning of Athens versus Jerusalem has raised questions, at various points in Christian history, about the relationship of philosophy to theology and Scripture, even if most contemporary theologians do not consider philosophical or scientific knowledge to be in opposition to Christian faith.

Today, in the twenty-first century, the question to be raised in Tertullian-like fashion is simply: What have race and racism to do with theology? Some, perhaps most, will argue that in a perfect world the appropriate answer would be nothing, but the reality of corrupt reason and human nature suggests we cannot turn a blind eye to the relationship between the two, especially if our desire is to eliminate racist discourse and practice from theology and ecclesial organizations. Since the 1970s and the appearance of James Cone’s, Black Theology and Black Power, the first book on liberation theology ever published, theologians of color in the United States have argued for the persistence of racialized and racist logic and discourse in theological writings, particularly those of white theologians.* Cone has characterized racism as America’s original sin.¹ Yet, white theologians have largely remained silent on the question of racism, thereby suggesting, perhaps, that racism is not an appropriate consideration for Christian theology or, at least, not one they wish to engage.

I first encountered liberation theology and the question of racism and white privilege as a first-year seminary student in an introduction to theological studies taught by Schubert Ogden. One of the assigned readings toward the end of the semester—and the only assigned reading I remember to this day—was James Cone’s essay God is Black, excerpted from A Black Theology of Liberation and published in Lift Every Voice.² Many of my peers had emotionally-charged reactions to Cone’s argument (as have many of my own students in introductory courses, despite my advance warnings to contextualize the essay and simply try to remain objective), but I found the theology provocative and exciting. To be sure, as a neophyte at theological inquiry, I did not fully grasp the content of God is Black. But it began a personal journey of understanding, of conscientization, and of seeking to break open the logic of white privilege. I have attempted to become black by the grace of God, despite my white skin. But I have encountered discomfort and disease with my decision to locate myself intellectually, spiritually, and physically on the margins, among communities and scholars of color and their writings. In the United States, most people would rather discuss anything but race and racism. It is an observation that can generally be applied to theologians, pastors, and the Christian faithful who remain reluctant to examine racist and racialized discourse and practice in the church and beyond.

Cone has repeatedly expressed dismay at this ongoing phenomenon. Why won’t white theologians take racism seriously? In his 2004 essay, Theology’s Great Sin, Cone posits four main reasons for the silence of the theologians. First, Whites do not talk about racism because they do not have to talk about it.³ This fact arises out of the power that whites, as the majority culture in society, hold in relation to other minoritized racial and ethnic persons.⁴ This power extends across the political, social, cultural, intellectual, and religious spectrum. Too few theologians are willing to acknowledge their complicity with systemic powers that create and sustain racial disparities.

The second source of silence, according to Cone, is guilt. Guilt is an emotion rooted in the intellectual awareness of how white privilege operates at the expense of persons of color. Wealth and economic prosperity, opportunities for advancement, and other advantages accruing to whiteness were built upon black labor and red land. But most white people repeat the oft-heard protest or disclaimer that neither they nor their direct ancestors were slaveholders or stole the land of Native peoples. Most whites understand themselves as color-blind and able to treat all persons equally. Thus, there exists a denial of white privilege because it weighs heavily upon those who acknowledge its existence. To name white privilege is to admit to possessing unearned advantages.

Cone then offers a third source of silence with regard to America’s long history of racism: the fear of black rage. Acknowledging that the spirit of Black theology was closer to [the language of] Malcolm than Martin, Cone recognizes the discomfort whites experience when African Americans speak with passion. In fact, he argues that whites cared more about White emotional comfort than the suffering of the Black poor.⁵ White society does not engage in conversation around the issue of reparations for the centuries of enslavement, Jim Crow laws, lynchings, and poverty. Cone concludes that, Our future depends on [whites and blacks working together]. But that can never happen creatively until Whites truly believe that their humanity is at stake in the struggle for racial justice.⁶ This notion that white people are less than fully human when participating in systemic racism is a key concept to which we will return in subsequent chapters.

Finally, white theologians remain silent about racial justice because they are not prepared for a radical redistribution of wealth and power.⁷ White privilege is prevalent and provides for distinct advantages, which white theologians and white Christians do not wish to relinquish. Even progressive Christians are complicit: Progressive Whites do not mind talking as long as it does not cost much, as long as the structures of power remain intact.⁸ But if systemic privilege and marginalization remain unchanged, the racist discourse and practice of America will continue unabated. The implicit question raised by Cone’s analysis is whether white Christians prefer their privilege and status to the justice and full humanity demanded by the gospel of Jesus Christ.

To address the question of racism in relation to theology is to enter a complex conversation in which religion, race, context, politics, economics, and power intertwine. Even as Cone highlights key issues, responses to his analysis—and at times his own writings—do not delve deeply enough into the thicket of theology’s collusion with political, economic, and cultural norms over the past four hundred years. Clearly, centuries of collusion cannot be dismantled overnight, but this reality has yet to be widely exposed, acknowledged, and analyzed, which constitutes the first step in dismantling systemic racism in the United States. Lacking conscientization, white theology has yet to take seriously its need to engage in racialized discourse, defined as that which uncovers, analyzes, and dismantles racism. Consequently, this neglect serves to undermine the truthfulness and credibility of the theological task in the contemporary era.

Despite the long-standing collusion, which might be identified as sins of commission and omission, race is seldom discussed in polite company or in institutions shaped by the white majority culture. If religion, politics, and sex are excluded topics at the dinner table or polite company, race and racism do not even make the list of banished topics. Good church people always claim to love everyone. But if Sunday morning continues to be the most segregated time of the week in the United States, if mainline Protestant denominations continue to have racial and ethnic caucuses in order for the perspectives of Christians of color to be vocalized, if churches are taking stands on immigration, education, or unemployment, then race is likely to be part of the analysis, even if it remains unnamed. If theologians do not address the question of race, the implicit message to church members and leaders is that race and racism are not theological or ecclesial matters. If this is the case, then how will it be possible for churches to enter into thoughtful reflection upon the rapidly changing demographics of the United States and the church’s failure to serve and represent the general population? Even as the mainline denominations dwindle and the need to reach a growing nonwhite demographic is apparent, theology provides few resources to facilitate the church’s reflection. Theology, long considered as reflection upon the first order discourse of the church, has the distinctive task of reflection that serves as a critical corrective to ecclesial practice, whether prophetic or priestly in nature. So why do white theologians turn a blind eye to racist practices, discourse, and logic of the church?

If Cone’s analysis is even partially correct, then theology’s task is clear: it must address the question of racism. Theology has the task of acknowledging its collusion with society’s and the church’s long history of racism, as well as identifying and describing the ways racialized discourse and practice can become manifest in the contemporary setting as a corrective. Only then can theologians and churches undertake the urgent task of constructing theological discourse that dismantles white privilege and white supremacy and contributes to ecclesial practices that further the reign of God on earth and the full humanity of all