Awhile back, we had the youth of our church over to our house for cooking and sharing in a meal and Bible study. One of them asked me for the pepper. I handed it to her.
About a full minute later she turns to me and says, "Uhh, do you have any black people pepper? I don't know how to use this white people pepper."
White people pepper. I laugh about this every single time I cook with our pepper.
The truth is I write about pretty much any topic, and I happen to be pretty honest about most things. But I haven't yet ventured into talking about being the white woman in our black church. Race topics are scary, because no matter what I say, someone is bound to be offended. My husband is not only the white pastor of a black church. He is also the white pastor of a black church in the south. He is also the white pastor of a black church in the south who happens to be the father of a black/Puerto Rican son.
Race is something we are keenly aware of, and the way I am about to speak about it comes from a woman who is also keenly aware of her own prejudices and the racist comments she, her family, and her church family hear quite often.
Our church has had mostly white pastors throughout its 115 year history. Being a family based church, our members are used to having a white pastor. Us coming here was nothing new to them. But it is something very foreign to everyone else around the community. When we are out and about at community events or out at the grocery store, a member will see us and wave. They turn to their friends and say, "That's my pastor." Inevitably, the friends look at us, and then look over, around, and through us, asking, "Where?" When they finally realize we are the people they are looking for, they can never conceal their shock. "Who? Them?"
I always want to say, "Yes, this white man over here and his totally hot wife."
You see, in the south, you can drive by most average-sized churches and say, "White church. Black church. White church. Black church." There are some mega-churches that are more diverse, but the average Christian church in the south is pretty segregated. My husband is the only pastor in the surrounding area that doesn't match the color of his church. So, it isn't so surprising that others in the community just can't quite understand how that white man and his hot wife could possibly be at a black church.
There are people who talk about how horrible this is. How dare we have such segregation in church? But, you know, we have been here for two-and-a-half years, and I get it. First, churches usually grow based on family growth and friends and neighbors who attend with members. Who is their family? Who are their neighbors? Who are their friends? If Sundays are segregated, it is because our lives outside of church are segregated. For the good and the bad. People find comfort in others with similar experiences and cultures. Segregation is not necessarily bad. But it certainly can be...
Like the white people who come to our church, love the service, appreciate the Law and Gospel preached from the pulpit, and then tell my husband they just don't think they could handle being the only white people. And then they don't return.
Yes, that happens.
But, after a few years here, I sort of get that, too.
It was so intimidating at first. Have you ever walked into a place where everyone else was one color and you were another? Most black people have had this experience a million times. But us white people could literally go our whole life without ever feeling that way. Not here. From ordination day through to this morning in the pew, I have found myself as the only or maybe one of two or three white women on any given Sunday or Wednesday or Saturday or any day we spend at church.
I have gotten compliments about my growing booty during pregnancy and my "big legs" (not exactly compliments to a white woman). I get looks of total bewilderment when the topic of having to wash my hair everyday comes up. People are totally shocked by the fact that my young kids never go to any family members' houses for a couple weeks at a time. When I was out and about shortly after giving birth, I created all sorts of chaos (most black babies don't make public appearances for about four weeks). When they invite us to a party that starts at 1 pm, and we show up at 1 pm, we are the only party happening for another hour or so. I get called "the first lady of Mt. Calvary" with all sincerity and honor. Culturally, we are different.
Some of that is because we are white and some of that is because we are northerners. Who knows which is in play at any given moment? But, the fact is, we are different.
Now, notice I didn't say we are better or worse. That would be racist. Pointing out the fact that we are indeed different is not racist. It is fact.
So, when those white people say they just don't know if they could do it. Well, it takes some getting used to. It takes questioning your own untalked about traits that are derived from how you were raised. It takes a thick skin, no matter the color, to let the compliments of others be actual compliments in your mind. It takes repeated times of feeling like you are the only one to not even noticing you are the only one anymore.
I have previously said our oldest child is black/Puerto Rican. For the first few weeks here, he was quite nervous around our black members. He was not even two yet, and really hadn't been around too many people who were anything but white. There is one white man in our church, and our son would shy away from every handshake besides his. It was quite embarrassing. I thought, "Oh no. We are raising a black child who is afraid of black people."
But, you know, just like it took me a few weeks, months, maybe even years, to start forgetting that I was the only white person in the room, he, too, started forgetting his fears. The black members looked just as common to him as that one white man. Something that had been foreign to him and his understanding of the world was changing.
And so was mine.
Have you ever noticed how white most Jesus pictures are? I have. Have you ever tried to find cheap kids' Biblical coloring books with racially accurate pictures? I have. Have you ever tried to find theologically good children's literature with black people in the images? I have. Look, I know Jesus and most Biblical figures were not black, but they weren't white either. This is just something I didn't think about before being here. This kind of experience changes your thought patterns.
About half a mile down the road from our church, there is a wall. It goes the length of an entire street. It is the wall that divided our city in the heat of the racial segregation years. The white people lived on one side and the black people lived on the other. The wall is still there. It is a constant reminder of things that can sometimes become distant in our minds.
We live on the black side of the wall. We aren't the only white people on this side now, but pretty close. Time doesn't change everything.
Black men from church stand at least 20-30 yards back from the door when I answer. One man refused to pick something up from the house when he found out I would be the one giving it to him. "Well, it used to be illegal for a black man to even talk to a white woman. I just can't do that. I just can't."
There are members of our church who have grandparents who were slaves. Their grandparents were slaves. Just let that soak in for a minute. We aren't talking about generations ago. We are talking about grandparents.
Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I know not everyone will be blessed to have this kind of experience.
One of our young adult members recently told us that she told her co-worker she was Lutheran. They said, "Lutheran? What? Why are you Lutheran?" She said, "I have always been Lutheran. I was born this way." The person said, "I've never met a black Lutheran before." Our member responded with, "Well, every Lutheran I know is black...besides my pastor."
It is all about perspective, folks.
In the end, all the differences really don't matter. We baptize our babies and sing, "See this wonder in the making..." together. We receive the body and blood of Christ and sing, "I know it was the blood for me..." together. We confess our sins and say, "We confess we are by nature sinful and unclean..." together. We wait for our Lord to return and sing, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" together.
We are together.
One faith. One Lord. One Baptism.
No matter what kind of pepper we use...
One of our young adult members recently told us that she told her co-worker she was Lutheran. They said, "Lutheran? What? Why are you Lutheran?" She said, "I have always been Lutheran. I was born this way." The person said, "I've never met a black Lutheran before." Our member responded with, "Well, every Lutheran I know is black...besides my pastor."
It is all about perspective, folks.
In the end, all the differences really don't matter. We baptize our babies and sing, "See this wonder in the making..." together. We receive the body and blood of Christ and sing, "I know it was the blood for me..." together. We confess our sins and say, "We confess we are by nature sinful and unclean..." together. We wait for our Lord to return and sing, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" together.
We are together.
One faith. One Lord. One Baptism.
No matter what kind of pepper we use...
