Sunday, June 14, 2020

From Greenland's icy mountains ....


This old hymn of the church triumphant has come to mind lately as the conversation, often acrimonious, turned to Black Lives Matter. I remember singing it --- in a conservative Lutheran setting --- many years ago. The melody, by Lowell Mason, is rousing; the words, gracefully arranged.

The text was written in 1819 by an Anglican clergyman, Reginald Heber, although it was not included in the current (1982) hymnal of the Episcopal Church. Heber's "Holy, Holy, Holy" is better known.

The second stanza especially seems fraught with peril today, although at the time it was written there was little doubt in all of the various expressions of the white church that everyone not Christian was a heathen --- and that most of the heathens out there had dark skin. Nevermind that the gentleman from whom Christianity takes its name was a person of color, too.

What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft on Ceylon’s isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen, in his blindness,
Bows down to wood and stone.

My question usually is, how much responsibility does this attitude of the white church bear in ongoing racial divides --- dividing humanity into the redeemed (white and conventionally Christian) and the "other"?

White Christians argued, once they got around to acknowledging that people of color had souls, too, that their salvation formulas could be applied to folks of all races. But of course there was no way to turn black, brown and other shades to white, so distinctions remained. And the black church and the white church remain separate threads.

Race hasn't been the only factor. Those of us who are LGBTQ+ (of all shades) also traditionally have been classed among the heathen (and still are in a majority of the church universal).

Some days I'm modestly hopeful about the long-term usefulness of the church --- usually after encountering representatives of what sometimes is called the progressive church. Other times, not so much. But one thing is sure --- the hour of worship on Sunday morning (or its equivalent) remains the most segregated hour in America.


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