God and Black History Month

It’s about as predictable as rain in April and flowers in May. Every year about this time I hear some people grumbling about Black History Month. For example, “Why should we separate their history from our history? Aren’t we all from the same country?” (Spoken by a non-black person, obviously.) Other comments are quite derogatory. But, generally speaking, the perspective seems to be that recognizing those who have made contributions to our nation should be color blind, even though little else in our nation seems to be.

Of course, there is no acceptable response to such statements – not acceptable to the other person, anyway. They’ve already make their opinion known with their question, and it wasn’t asked in an attempt to acquire knowledge or broaden their horizon.

Recently, I was speaking with an adult child of alcoholics. She related the constant abuse she lived with as far back as she could remember – verbal, physical, and emotional. (The only bright spot is that there was no sexual abuse.) Whenever either ‘parent’ was present the tension of fear was in the air. It didn’t matter if one of them was just coming home from work – and a bar; if she was coming home from school; or if it was the first thing in the morning. That little girl lived in fear.

No matter what was said to her – no matter how crude, undignifying, hurtful, degrading, humiliating, or insulting – she had no recourse but to agree, to apologize, to degrade herself, or all three. Breaking into tears would put an end to the verbal abuse, but only long enough for them to inflict physical abuse as punishment for crying. In private at home or in public in front of all her friends, the setting did not matter.

She had a brother and a sister and they received the same treatment. For years, she thought it was normal for a kid to live in fear of their parents. But as she became more aware of the dynamic in other families, she knew something was wrong. She wavered back and forth between being convinced that she was pretty much worthless and that if she and her siblings weren’t such a disgrace to the family name that her mom and dad wouldn’t have to treat them as they did; and a seething hatred of her situation – and of her parents.

She left home and married an abusive alcoholic. You can guess what that was like for her.

But, at some point, she found God. Or, put more accurately, God made God’s presence known in such a strong way that she couldn’t miss it.

At first she went to a church with an authoritarian Pastor – a person that reminded her of her father. It felt “normal” to her to be dominated and verbally browbeat. Eventually, through the help of a friend, she found a church that nourished her. Over the years, the people in that church helped her to see that she had value simply because she was created in God’s image. She discovered that she did not ‘deserve’ any of the abuse that had been heaped upon her all those years. Sadly, she also learned that the abuse she was heaping upon her own teen-aged children was just as destructive to them as it was – and had been – for her. To make matters worse for her children, they were receiving the same type of abuse from their grandparents.

What chance did they – and their future children – have as they fled home as soon as they were able? Will she have the chance to make a difference in the lives of her grandchildren? Only time will tell.

In a way, this is how it is for so many of our African-American brothers and sisters – neighbors, actually, according to Jesus – the type of people he expects us to love. But simply “aging out” and leaving home did not bring them an escape from the abuse. It has been inflicted upon them by the structure of our society and how that structure formed the attitudes of the abusers as well as the abused. Even though the theory of that structure has changed by law, the attitudes that had been formed before those legal changes have been passed down from generation to generation.

Black History Month is an attempt for all Americans regardless of descent to recognize the inherent value of each person by focusing on the fruits of the labor of a class of folk that has for generations been minimized.

So, what does God have to do with all this?

Well, these statements made by Jesus come to mind: “The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'” And “He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'” (Matthew 25:40, 45).

That’s what I think. What do you think?