This week, the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts is getting ready for our annual diocesan convention. We meet to discuss the life of the diocese and to vote on resolutions presented by the people and congregations of our community. Of course, my thoughts have been more dominated by Tuesday’s election than anything that we might vote on this weekend. As I’ve been reading the newspaper and hearing people’s reactions on the radio, I find myself with tears in my eyes at the joy and celebration of what this election means for our country. I know that all of you readers might not agree on the policy subtleties of the coming Obama presidency, but I think everyone can agree that the election our first African American president represents a momentous occasion for our country.
It may be just a coincidence (or it may be quite remarkable) that this election is during a time that the Episcopal Church is grappling with its own complicity and enmeshment with racism and the legacy of slavery. One of our resolutions for this weekend’s convention proposes a process of dialogue and research into how we in our own diocese and parishes benefited historically, and currently, from that sinful institution, and how we can become “a transformed, anti-racist church and work toward healing, reconciliation and a restoration of wholeness to the family of God.” One of our tools for reflection is a film was made by a woman in our diocese, Katrina Browne, called “Traces of the Trade.” I hope we’ll be able to find some time to watch the film together here at Christ Church. Katrina discovered that her ancestors, the DeWolfe family of Bristol, Rhode Island, were the largest slave trading family in US history. Exposing the lie of the notion that slavery was just a Southern issue, the film follows her and nine other family members as they retrace the Triangle Trade route of their ancestors, from Rhode Island, to Ghana, to Cuba, and back. They discuss what the history of their family—and our country—means for us today, and what white America is called to do in terms of apology and reparation.
In a service of repentance held at the Church of St Thomas in Philadelphia, our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori reflects on how “through it all, people of privilege looked the other way, and too few found the courage to question inhuman ideas, words, practices, or laws. We and they ignored the image of Christ in our neighbors . . . we will not experience the full resurrection until the whole body of Christ rises again.”
And this week, we elected our first African American president, a child of a Kenyan and a Kansan, who rose through the ranks of American politics on a promise of hope, rather than the security of privilege. It is often said that story represents the best of America, of our diversity and opportunity and possibility, and I think it is certainly true. The number of new voters, new volunteers, and new voices in our political dialogue signaled the way so many people found their story reflected in his story. Whatever the policy differences are between republicans and democrats in this country, this election is one small sign that a more inclusive day has arrived in American politics.
Still, there is still so much racism in this country. It is not easy for us to talk about what all of this means, about how race did (or didn’t) figure in to the election. A vote for Obama doesn’t mean that one person has conquered all their racist impulses, and a vote against him doesn’t mean that someone else hasn’t. The state ballot initiatives against same sex marriage and against adoption by unmarried persons remind us that equality for all God’s children is still far off. And yet, and yet. This election is an opening, a crack in the door of that dark dungeon of suspicion and hatred. The way forward is not easy. The challenges facing us are many, and hard. But we do not travel alone. Our Christian faith holds us up in the promise of a hope wider than anything any politician can give us. The unity we have in the Gospel is far deeper than any unity we might have as a nation or as a political belief. And all of us here at Christ Church, in all of our difference, have so, so much to be grateful for in our life together.
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