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—Cindy Geary, Co-Author of Going to School in Black and White
LaHoma and I found ourselves talking about race during our writing group a few years ago. Specifically, we were talking about school re-segregation and white flight in the district where we had both gone to school. This conversation happened after we discovered that we had both been participants in the 1970 court-ordered desegregation plan in Durham, NC. Before 1970, a few black children attended previously white schools, but no white children attended black schools. The new court order required substantive redistricting to create a racial balance that the “freedom of choice” policy had not. My sophomore year, I was among the first white students to go to the previous all-black Hillside High School.
During an earlier group meeting, I read an excerpt from a writing prompt: “the place where you lived when you were in junior high.” I mentioned in my piece that I was a Hillside graduate. LaHoma said, “You went to Hillside? I went to Hillside!” As it turned out, I was a senior her sophomore year. LaHoma is black; she always expected to go to Hillside. Neither of us had known until then that we had walked the same high school corridors. We were excited to know, after years of acquaintance, that we were both Hillside “Hornets.”
That day, after reminiscing about former teachers and classmates, we started to talk about how we felt about court-ordered desegregation, controversial at the time. We were both surprised at each other’s responses. She was surprised that I had thought it was a good experience—years after graduation, she had heard otherwise from former classmates. I was stunned to hear LaHoma had not been at all happy about desegregation. She was utterly content at her junior high school and unhappy to be reassigned to a different one just to be with white kids. It was not the story I had assumed.
Thus began an extended conversation about our experiences as white and black people in and out of our usual white and black spaces. Our stories unveiled different worlds, defined by race, that we inhabited before, during and after our school desegregation experiences. These stories became a dual memoir, Going to School in Black and White. Writing this book gave us the opportunity to speak openly with each other about our own previously unexamined biases in a way that we might not have been able to without these real school experiences to ground us.
Having these sometimes tricky conversations created a strong bond of trust between us. To honor this and to make the book worthy of our readers’ trust, our goal was complete honesty, even when what surfaced in our writing process was not as pretty as we wanted it to be. Peeling back layers of memory was sometimes painful, but also liberating. Our wish is that readers will find something of themselves in our stories, start to talk to others about the formation of their racial attitudes and beliefs, and that eventually, this will create enough comfort with each other to have further conversations about the present realities of school segregation and racial injustice.
For more information about our book and resource materials, see:
–The Reverend Tom Andrews
“Episcopal” means having bishops, and bishops and the diocese are the center,
the heartbeat of what it means to be part of this church. The diocese is where
we come together as a Church with our bishops in democratic decision-making
processes. As such, we are reminded that as individual believers, we are
connected with other Christians, both in heaven and on earth. We connect out
of mutual support in faith, not because we are completely in agreement,
completely perfect, or complete in any way.
It’s important for Episcopalians to support our Bishops and the work of our
Church in the Diocese of Maryland. We pledge to Old Saint Paul’s knowing that
part of our giving supports the mission of the Bishops, the Diocese and the
National Church. Our delegates to the annual Diocesan Convention vote for the
mission of the Episcopal Church in Maryland, and choose our Deputies to the
General Convention where God’s mission for the Church is decided and acted
upon. The full name of our Church is the Domestic and Foreign Missionary
Society of the Episcopal Church. I have worked with a number of Bishops in the
dioceses where I’ve lived and know firsthand of the importance of the ordained
and laity working together to accomplish the mission of the Church and
responding to such needs wherever they may be.
The Church, led by our bishops, fulfills three important functions. The first
purpose is worship. We don’t worship God because we have to or because
we’re afraid of what God might do to us if we don’t. We worship God because
we believe that God is a being who fully deserves our respect and love.
Worshipping God is simply the best response to God’s generous love and a
church service is an effective and time-honored way of carrying out this
The second purpose is teaching. To some extent, this is something we do for
each other by reading passages from the Bible aloud in church combined with
sermons commenting and connecting spiritual teachings and secular issues that
relate Christianity to real life. Christians have a responsibility to make their own
insights about God available to the rest of the world and an organized Church
can provide that framework of tried and true insights for individual Christians
who don’t have time, energy, or even feel the need, to reinvent the wheel.
Our third purpose is fellowship. We are a community of people with a common
goal, supporting and strengthening each other as we work towards that goal. An
important part of Christian teaching is compassion for others and the Church
provides material support for the needy, as it attempts to promote social justice
to the rest of society. While Christians have certainly done some very unchristian
things, that’s only part of the story. On the whole, the world is healthier, better
fed, better educated, with more rights because of Christianity than it would be
without it. Just because Christians have sometimes failed to live up to our high
ideals doesn’t mean we haven’t made great progress in striving toward them. A
current example is our Bishop’s appeal to help with the vitally needed rebuilding
of Puerto Rico.
We believe in a God who loves us and calls us, the Church community, to follow
the teachings of Jesus Christ under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Individual
giving is extremely important and appropriately led by our parishes under the
guidance of our Bishops and our dioceses in accomplishing our mission. This is
who we are, and it’s vital to who we are as Episcopalians.
To pledge to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, who contributes to The Episcopal
Diocese of Maryland and the National Episcopal Church, please use this link: http://stpaulsbaltimore.net/pledge/
—The Rev. Mary Luck Stanley
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland invited me to research the history of St. Paul’s Church in relationship to chattel slavery, and to present at the Trail of Souls Pilgrimage. I am grateful to Audry Gagnon, a former intern with the Episcopal Service Corps, for her research at the Maryland Historical Society. Thanks also to John Henderson, civil rights attorney and former Sr. Warden, for his research into the story of Reverdy Johnson.
When the Diocese of London founded St. Paul’s Parish in 1692 as an established member of the Church of England, people living within the parish boundaries were taxed forty pounds of tobacco per year, paid to the Church. For the first hundred years of this congregation’s life, tobacco income was the main source of support. The clergy of St. Paul’s were granted “glebe land” to grow tobacco, thus providing for their income. Typically, enslaved people farmed the tobacco. St. Paul’s Church was built on the labor of enslaved people.
Baptisms and Marriages
Beginning in the 1790s, and for the following hundred years, more than one hundred people of African descent were recorded in the parish register as being baptized by the clergy of St. Paul’s. A slave balcony was included in the third church that seated 1700 people, before it burned down in 1854. The parish register lists “slave, mulatto, negro, and free black” names both for baptisms and marriages up until the 1830’s. Presumably, the opening of St. James’ Parish for African Americans, founded in 1824, caused the drop off in baptisms.
“Under the wing of St. Paul’s: In 1873, when St. James’ Church had been greatly weakened by withdrawals and other causes, the vestry requested the Rev. Dr. Hodges, rector of St. Paul’s Parish, to assume charge of the spiritualities of the parish. Hence, from then until the end of 1888, the priests in charge of the parish were assistants of the Rev. Dr. Hodges. The last priest furnished by St. Paul’s was a colored clergyman, Father B. W. Timothy.” —St. James Church: History 1824-1949, Anniversary Pamphlet from 1849, page 5.
As part of a diocesan ministry, at the request of the bishop of Maryland, the clergy from St. Paul’s also took on some of the pastoral ministry for the Johns Hopkins Colored Orphan Asylum. There are almost fifty names of girls at the Colored Orphan Asylum who were listed in the register as being baptized in the twenty years that St. Paul’s was in charge of their care.
“In 1789, leaders of St. Paul’s Church organized the founding of The Maryland Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery and the Relief of Free Negroes and Others Unlawfully held in Bondage. This was the fourth anti-slavery society in the United States and the sixth in the world. Founding members included Judge Samuel Chase, Attorney General Luther Martin, and Dr. George Buchanan, all from St. Paul’s.” —St. Paul’s Parish Baltimore: a chronicle of the Mother Church, by Francis F. Beirne, page 47.
“The manumission of slaves, which a decade before had received stimulus from Dr. George Buchanan and the anti-slavery society, was creating a problem. The freed men found much difficulty adjusting to their new condition for they had virtually nowhere to go. A possible solution which attracted many people was the proposal to establish a nation for them in Africa. Again some members of St. Paul’s took an active interest in the plan. John Eager Howard was vice president of the Colonization Society which was organized on a national scale with headquarters in Washington.” —St. Paul’s Parish Baltimore, page 84.
In 1931, the children and grandchildren of vestryman Reverdy Johnson (1796-1876) had a brass memorial mounted on a wall in the nave of St Paul’s. Inscribed on the plaque are the words, “lover of the Anglo-Saxon Race, of North and South, of Justice and of Peace.” The life of Reverdy Johnson reflects the fact that Baltimore was caught in the crosshairs of issues swirling around slavery and the Civil War. Johnson epitomizes these complexities, arguing, as an attorney, a pro-slavery position in the ruinous Dred Scott case, but also advocating for the 13th Amendment (ending slavery) a decade later. He favored the Union, and called the Confederates traitors, while also advocating for state autonomy. He condemned slavery and gave up the slaves he inherited, though he campaigned against extending citizenship, equal protection of the law, and voting rights to the freedmen, opposing both the 14th and 15th Amendments. Johnson regularly opposed Lincoln, but also became an ally in the war, ending up as a pallbearer at Lincoln’s funeral.
The Rev. Mary Luck Stanley
God of compassion, You understand the sadness, anger, and fear that we feel over what happened in Charlottesville last weekend when racism, bigotry, and hatred were on full display.
Enfold us with Your care.
God of empathy, You suffer with those who are hurting.
Bring comfort to all who are grieving.
God of wisdom, Your nature is to reveal truth.
Show us what we need to see more clearly.
God of justice, You created all people in Your image, and declared that humanity is good.
Guide us so that we can live into our own goodness by building a more just and equal society.
God of power, You have promised to bring transformation and new life.
Rain down Your love so that lives will be changed.
God of solidarity, You always stand with the victims, the oppressed, and the persecuted.
Open our hearts so we can stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters.
God of repentance, You know our sins and You love us in spite of our failings.
Give us the courage to repent, especially when we are tempted by selfishness and intolerance.
God of grace, You love all people unconditionally, and You cherish every living soul.
Help us to see all people through the eyes of love, showing respect for the dignity of every human being.
God of courage, You inspire people to do heroic things in the service of others.
Grant us the will to dismantle systemic racism, white supremacy, and antisemitism, and to become champions of the oppressed.
God of all, You have shown us the ways of loving-kindness.
Thank You for giving us hope that we can follow in the footsteps of Jesus by building the beloved community.
Here our prayers, O God, for we need Your help.
—The Rev. Mary Luck Stanley
Many in the United States are feeling that their basic human rights, privileges, and safety are being threatened. There is a lack of civility in our public discourse and an uptick in the number of hate crimes in the U.S. Yet each morning also brings news of radical changes in the capacity of our country to practice Christian principles such as compassion, mercy, service to others, welcoming strangers, and respect for the dignity of every human being.
Instead of allowing politicians to determine our “frame of reference,” it’s time for us, as Christians, to lift up the “frame of reference” that supersedes all others. We are followers of Jesus Christ. And the values that Jesus lived out are the ones that we are called to put first in our own lives. Our Judeo-Christian tradition tells us that every person is created in the image of God and is a beloved child of God who is worthy of our care.
It’s time for us to renew our efforts, as followers of Jesus, to practice the spiritual discipline of loving kindness. We take seriously St. Paul’s words from Romans 12:21, “Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.”
The world’s major spiritual traditions have asserted the principle that if individuals look within and work on generating loving kindness, then that love has the power to ripple out into our relationships and communities, and to change the world. When we are feeling powerless to change what politicians and others are doing, we can still practice loving kindness as a way to transform the world into the “Kingdom of God.”
During the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. invited people to build “The Beloved Community.” According to The King Center, “Dr. King’s Beloved Community is a global vision, in which all people can share in the wealth of the earth. In the Beloved Community, poverty, hunger, and homelessness will not be tolerated because international standards of decency will not allow it. Racism and all forms of discrimination, bigotry and prejudice will be replaced by an all-inclusive spirit of sisterhood and brotherhood. In the Beloved Community, international disputes will be resolved by peaceful conflict-resolution and reconciliation of adversaries, instead of military power. Love and trust will triumph over fear and hatred. Peace and justice will prevail over war and military conflict.”
Let’s build The Beloved Community by practicing the sacred art of loving kindness, one action at a time, and so transform our world into a more just and loving home for all.
A message from Bishop Eugene Taylor Sutton
—Larissa Peters, OSP Congregant
I’ve put this annual reflection off, and now it’s January 2017. I haven’t wanted to write it because I don’t like to do things for the sake of doing them. I don’t like saying rote things that could be counted as trite, like I haven’t thought about it. Especially to those who are going through pain. I’ve been the recipient of that, and it sucks.
And I’m weary. A lot of people have said that. They have said they are excited to get rid of 2016. But even that makes me weary. I don’t have a lot of hope for 2017.
There have been quite a few I know who have just been through it. Like you wouldn’t believe. Family members sick, broken relationships, internal turmoil, death…. And others who have been waiting—waiting for jobs, for a change, for health….
And I work for an int’l development agency, and we’re inundated with news of Syria and millions of refugees fleeing. We hear of children trying to cross the border into Texas because of the violence in Central America. And our country is incredibly divided, not to mention our own families at times. And it’s exhausting.
So I want to be careful about saying just words.
As I began this advent, I thought—I’d like to reflect on PEACE. We need peace in us, in our world, all that…isn’t the Christmas story full of peace?
But then I couldn’t find it. Do you know how many times ‘peace’ is mentioned in the Christmas story? Once.
You can’t force a meditation. And truth be told, there wasn’t much peace. Israel was occupied, under another regime. There’s a lot of waiting. And in that waiting, so much anxiety. So much fear and doubt.
And when I read the part about Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem. It hit home. How tired they must have been. Finally getting there and hearing, “No room.” Mary had to have thought (well, I personally would have thought), Of course, this is just about how I’d expect everything to go based on this year….
How exhausting it must have been for Mary, both physically and mentally. Was she full of doubts?—doubts that others had certainly placed in her. Fears she herself couldn’t help but have.
And when they arrived at an inn where they expected to hear yet another, “No room,” only to instead land in a stable, placing their baby—whom they had been told is the Messiah—in a feeding trough, Joseph must have felt incredibly inadequate as a husband and a father.
I’m sure the shepherds couldn’t have come at a better time, bursting in shouting, “Where’s the Messiah we’ve heard about?”
I see both waiting (Simeon, Anna, Israel) and journeys taken (Mary, Joseph, the wise men) in the Christmas story. But the process is the same. The emotions are the same. The inner turmoil and questions still exist whether you are stagnant or wandering.
Were the wise men disappointed to find a baby in the end? How many times did Simeon and Anna ask God, “How long, oh Lord? How much longer?”
And then Mary and Joseph again having to get up and flee for their child’s life—really holding the destiny of mankind in their hands—leaving an entire town weeping behind them…because of them.
So often, I tend to get into myself, and my path feels tired, full of doubt, unrelatable. And just when I think I’ve arrived where I wanted to go, it wasn’t what I expected or it’s even scarier than I’d imagined.
Or I never move.
And everyone else does.
It can feel incredibly lonely sometimes. And very far from peaceful. And the people I thought I could trust—well, they disappointed me.
So what’s left? What small piece can I take with me as I enter into a new year?
I’d like to be like those shepherds. I’d like to be able and willing to show up in the right moment because I took the opportunity—without hesitation, confirming to a fellow wanderer that they are on the right path. So much of the violence, pain and hatred of 2016 may not have been directed specifically at me or happened to me, but if I can come around and just be someone who says, “I’m here with you,” then I want to be that person.
I’d like to continue on waiting (or moving) despite my fears and doubts. So I have to ask, how could all these people do that? How does anyone? Really, there has to be a very deep motivation for either one—greater than all our unmet expectations, disappointments, and feelings of inadequacies and loneliness.
The wise men, shepherds, Joseph, Mary—all had a deep pull, that only a very deep calling could keep them going. Something—that in the midst of the oppression, fears, doubts, weariness, murderous threats, fleeing, loneliness, trouble—something greater gave them a reason to continue. And continue in what may have seemed to some a bold or scary choice. I want this courage and this passion. This I want to remember and hold on to.
Theirs was a deep hope in the belief that Mary carried the Savior of the world, and that he was called the Prince of Peace.
Let me again repeat this line from that old Christmas carol: “the hope and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight …”
This article was originally published on Larissa Peters’ blog, In Other Words Poetry. For more of her writing, visit: http://www.inotherwordspoetry.com/