President Barack Obama delivers the eulogy at the funeral of Reverend Clementa Pinckney
in Charleston, S.C., June 26, 2015
Last week I was caught up in the moment watching President Obama deliver his eulogy for South Carolina state senator and Rev. Clementa Pinckney and the other Charleston martyrs of supremacist terrorism. I watched
the entire service, and was deeply moved. I took time during and afterwards to look at the mainstream media coverage, and I was distressed. Several news channels had switched to intense coverage of escaped New York State inmates. Others seemed to only focus on the President's singing a few lines from
Amazing Grace.
On the other hand, folks on black Twitter picked up on remarks made after he had finished, with #ReverendPresident, because the President didn't simply give a speech, he preached.
The politics and message he delivered, and the way he delivered them, were shaped as part the long term tradition of liberation theology in the black community. President Obama, though not raised in the black church, has certainly been steeped in its tradition as an adult, and he has a deep scholarly, intellectual and emotional understanding of not only the history, but the day to day importance of those church traditions in many black lives. More importantly he understands the forces at play between the predominantly white "Christian" right in this nation, who have pastors like this man who spews hate from the pulpit, and those persons—black, brown and white—who oppose them, many of whom are also Christian, and/or deeply spiritual members of other faith traditions.
There are some people, on the left, who have expressed extreme discomfort at hearing his message as delivered. Until those of us who are atheist or agnostic can become willing to be open to a deeper understanding of this history and the role of the black church, there will be a disconnect between many mainly white progressives and black, white, and brown progressives of faith. The personal—faith—is also very political for us, and is a key component of our ability to fight, survive and sustain the will to struggle against any and all odds.
Follow me below the fold for some history and more thoughts on this.
I believe that only a black president, familiar with these faith traditions could have made this speech, to this family, to this congregation, and to this nation. I realized that in many ways, in this period of the president's tenure—knowing he does not have to run again seems to have been liberating—he was able to tell some hard political truths that would have been well nigh impossible in his first term.
Transcript
This is the first segment I had to go back and read over again. Several times.
The church is and always has been the center of African-American life -- (applause) -- a place to call our own in a too often hostile world, a sanctuary from so many hardships.
Over the course of centuries, black churches served as “hush harbors” where slaves could worship in safety; praise houses where their free descendants could gather and shout hallelujah -- (applause) -- rest stops for the weary along the Underground Railroad; bunkers for the foot soldiers of the Civil Rights Movement. They have been, and continue to be, community centers where we organize for jobs and justice; places of scholarship and network; places where children are loved and fed and kept out of harm’s way, and told that they are beautiful and smart -- (applause) -- and taught that they matter. (Applause.) That’s what happens in church.
That’s what the black church means. Our beating heart. The place where our dignity as a people is inviolate. When there’s no better example of this tradition than Mother Emanuel -- (applause) -- a church built by blacks seeking liberty, burned to the ground because its founder sought to end slavery, only to rise up again, a Phoenix from these ashes. (Applause.)
When there were laws banning all-black church gatherings, services happened here anyway, in defiance of unjust laws. When there was a righteous movement to dismantle Jim Crow, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. preached from its pulpit, and marches began from its steps. A sacred place, this church. Not just for blacks, not just for Christians, but for every American who cares about the steady expansion -- (applause) -- of human rights and human dignity in this country; a foundation stone for liberty and justice for all. That’s what the church meant. (Applause.)
There is no coincidence that he was addressing members of a church founded by Denmark Vesey. Vesey rejected a
white Christianity used to keep enslaved people bound.
In 1815, whites in Charleston discovered that black Methodists had been secretly pooling money to buy freedom for enslaved congregants. Whites moved to restrict black autonomy. They planned to construct a hearse house on top of a black burial ground, a move Charleston blacks saw as a final insult. Over 4,000 black members left white churches in protest, and formed an African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston. Denmark Vesey followed them, leaving the segregated Second Presbyterian Church, where slaves were taught the words of St. Paul: "Servants, obey your masters." In the AME Church, Vesey found the freedom to preach his beliefs.
Vesey even sought out an African born non-Christian
Gullah Jack, who still practiced African traditions, to help recruit Africans to rebel.
In the days when the first blacks were dragged here in chains, many states had laws to forbid enslaved people from learning to read and write.
Acts against the education of slaves South Carolina, 1740
and Virginia, 1819
...
Fearing that black literacy would prove a threat to the slave system -- which relied on slaves' dependence on masters -- whites in many colonies instituted laws forbidding slaves to learn to read or write and making it a crime for others to teach them.
Excerpt from South Carolina Act of 1740
Whereas, the having slaves taught to write, or suffering them to be employed in writing, may be attended with great inconveniences; Be it enacted, that all and every person and persons whatsoever, who shall hereafter teach or cause any slave or slaves to be taught to write, or shall use or employ any slave as a scribe, in any manner of writing whatsoever, hereafter taught to write, every such person or persons shall, for every such offense, forfeit the sum of one hundred pounds, current money.
Excerpt from Virginia Revised Code of 1819
That all meetings or assemblages of slaves, or free negroes or mulattoes mixing and associating with such slaves at any meeting-house or houses, &c., in the night; or at any SCHOOL OR SCHOOLS for teaching them READING OR WRITING, either in the day or night, under whatsoever pretext, shall be deemed and considered an UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY; and any justice of a county, &c., wherein such assemblage shall be, either from his own knowledge or the information of others, of such unlawful assemblage, &c., may issue his warrant, directed to any sworn officer or officers, authorizing him or them to enter the house or houses where such unlawful assemblages, &c., may be, for the purpose of apprehending or dispersing such slaves, and to inflict corporal punishment on the offender or offenders, at the discretion of any justice of the peace, not exceeding twenty lashes.
The first ministers to preach Christianity to slaves were white men and tools of the owners. But little by little slaveholders allowed blacks to preach, and they also had to be able to read the Bible. There was a great fear that Africans in America would continue to worship in their own ways, and the revolution in Haiti sent waves of fear here, because that rebellion was
sparked by practitioners of Voudou at Bois Caïman. African drums
were banned.
When first brought to North America during the 1600s and 1700s, slaves from the west coast of Africa used drums to communicate with each other in much the same way as they did at home, sending coded rhythmic messages Europeans could not understand over long distances. In this way slaves held in different encampments could stay in contact, and rebellions could be planned. But after some time the masters realized that the drums could talk.
“It is absolutely necessary to the safety of this Province, that all due care be taken to restrain Negroes from using or keeping of drums, which may call together or give sign or notice to one another of their wicked designs and purposes.”
— Slave Code of South Carolina, Article 36 (1740).
Starting on the plantations of the Carolinas and Georgia, this ban soon spread across the United States. Without drums, slaves used whatever was around to make beats: spoons, washboards, furniture, and their own bodies with hand-clapping, drumming on various surfaces of the body (Patting Juba), and foot-stomping and shuffling (Ring Shout).
Africans and African-Americans gathered in ostensibly European-Christian worship lost the drum, but played instead the tambourine, and used hand-clapping and song to bring down the spirit.
There was a irony about the encouragement of Euro-Christian worship. Instead of remaining passive good servants of superior whites, blacks heard "the word" of Moses leading the people of Israel out of bondage, and the Bible became a series of inspirational and radical messages of freedom.
Go Down Moses
When Israel was in Egypt land,
Let my people go!
Oppressed so hard they could not stand,
Let my people go!
Go down, Moses,
way down in Egypt land,
tell old Pharao
to let my people go!
...
Secretly, in Sunday gatherings people were taught to read and write. Banned West African practices were absorbed into a form of worship that was still fundamentally black, with a white overlay. Instead of being possessed by
Orisha, or
Loa, or
Nkisi, congregants were "filled with the spirit" of Jesus and the Holy Ghost. The call-and-response form of music, singing praises to God, were in form no different from African
mojubas (praise) and prayers to the ancestors.
W.E.B DuBois, a black revolutionary thinker and socialist who has often been labelled an atheist, was not. He strongly rejected a white-dominated oppressive religious institution yet had a deep understanding of the power of the black church.
Du Bois' early works, The Philadelphia Negro (1899) and The Negro Church (1903), focused on the African American church. As his biographer Edward Blum has observed, Du Bois understood that the black church stood at the center of the African American community. The Negro Church was the first major sociological study of the church that was based on empirical evidence. Du Bois and his colleagues interviewed more than 1,000 young African Americans about their religious beliefs, practices and expectations. The result was a portrait of a vibrant institution with a multitude of voices.But Du Bois was not content with academic analysis; he wanted the church to become a transformative powerhouse of social, racial and economic uplift. He believed that ministers were essential to this uplift because they possessed the power to instill moral fiber and encourage moral virtue.
In 1903, Du Bois published one of the most powerful and influential books in American history, The Souls of Black Folk. He began with this profound observation on race: "The problem of the 20th century is the problem of the color-line -- the relation of the darker to the lighter races of men in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea." Marshaling his knowledge of history, sociology and theology, Du Bois challenged the ideology of white supremacy that linked race with concepts of the divine. Whiteness was seen to be biblically endowed with the sacred; blackness was associated with the devil. Black people were portrayed as sub-human animals who had no souls. In the late 19th century, this malignant ideology had permeated mainstream American culture, invading literary, scientific and military discourse.
Du Bois showed how the conflation of race and religion provided whites with a "psychological wage" to subjugate blacks, to justify violence and to legitimize injustice. Du Bois pushed back. As Blum has observed, he "suggested that the poor, downtrodden, the exploited were the true children of the Lord." Extolling the resilience and creativity of African Americans, he sought to imbue their aspirations with new spiritual energies. Anticipating the black liberation theology of the 1960s, he imagined a black God, a black Christ and even a black female God. With these alternative images of the divine, Du Bois constructed a new black sacred cosmos.In the chapter of The Souls of Black Folk titled "Of the Faith of the Fathers," Du Bois offered a compelling essay on the role of black ministers. He extolled his grandfather Alexander Crummell and eulogized Henry McNeal Turner, bishop of the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, as "a man of tremendous force and indomitable courage." Yet he did not hesitate to criticize other ministers for clinging to an old-fashioned faith that promised salvation in the "bye-and-bye" rather than progress in the here and now.
Many of the earliest colleges for blacks were funded by church groups, but black churches were not just a place of education. They were not only the oldest black institution in the U.S. but they were also a legal place to gather and to form support networks. A place to develop leadership. It is no coincidence that a majority of our leaders have been ministers, from Sojourner Truth, to Martin Luther King, Minister Malcolm and to Reverend Barber. Our churches provide a place to eat, a place to receive clothing, a place from which to make visits to the sick, provide daycare for children and solace and companionship for our seniors.
The church is where we receive food for the spirit. The crippling weight of racism and oppression can be lifted long enough to gain the strength to carry on—just another day. A place where joy can be expressed and the soul could be refreshed.
Joy
Joy, joy, God’s great joy.
Joy, joy, down in my soul;
sweet, beautiful, soul saving joy,
oh, joy, joy in my soul
...
Black radical theologians from
Rev. Dr. James Cone, founder of modern
black liberation theology to
Cornel West, a Democratic socialist theological scholar, "get it." The Black Panther Party started its free breakfast programs in the church of
Reverend Earl Albert Neil. Black churches across the South hosted voter registration and gave beds, sometimes on the floor to civil rights workers. Black churches ferry "
Souls to the Polls."
Is there any wonder why white terrorists burn and bomb black churches?
President Obama made this very clear.
We do not know whether the killer of Reverend Pinckney and eight others knew all of this history. But he surely sensed the meaning of his violent act. It was an act that drew on a long history of bombs and arson and shots fired at churches, not random, but as a means of control, a way to terrorize and oppress. (Applause.) An act that he imagined would incite fear and recrimination; violence and suspicion. An act that he presumed would deepen divisions that trace back to our nation’s original sin.
Let me give an amen to that ..."our nation's original sin."
A country founded on genocide and racism.
He went further, and said the Confederate flag is wrong, slavery was wrong, Jim Crow was wrong, and incarceration of so many of our young men is biased. He addressed poverty and "dilapidated" schools, gun violence, and voter suppression.
For too long, we were blind to the pain that the Confederate flag stirred in too many of our citizens. (Applause.) It’s true, a flag did not cause these murders. But as people from all walks of life, Republicans and Democrats, now acknowledge -- including Governor Haley, whose recent eloquence on the subject is worthy of praise -- (applause) -- as we all have to acknowledge, the flag has always represented more than just ancestral pride. (Applause.) For many, black and white, that flag was a reminder of systemic oppression and racial subjugation. We see that now.
Removing the flag from this state’s capitol would not be an act of political correctness; it would not be an insult to the valor of Confederate soldiers. It would simply be an acknowledgment that the cause for which they fought -- the cause of slavery -- was wrong -- (applause) -- the imposition of Jim Crow after the Civil War, the resistance to civil rights for all people was wrong. (Applause.) It would be one step in an honest accounting of America’s history; a modest but meaningful balm for so many unhealed wounds. It would be an expression of the amazing changes that have transformed this state and this country for the better, because of the work of so many people of goodwill, people of all races striving to form a more perfect union. By taking down that flag, we express God’s grace. (Applause.)
But I don't think God wants us to stop there. (Applause.) For too long, we’ve been blind to the way past injustices continue to shape the present. Perhaps we see that now. Perhaps this tragedy causes us to ask some tough questions about how we can permit so many of our children to languish in poverty, or attend dilapidated schools, or grow up without prospects for a job or for a career. (Applause.)
Perhaps it causes us to examine what we’re doing to cause some of our children to hate. (Applause.) Perhaps it softens hearts towards those lost young men, tens and tens of thousands caught up in the criminal justice system -- (applause) -- and leads us to make sure that that system is not infected with bias; that we embrace changes in how we train and equip our police so that the bonds of trust between law enforcement and the communities they serve make us all safer and more secure. (Applause.)
Maybe we now realize the way racial bias can infect us even when we don't realize it, so that we're guarding against not just racial slurs, but we're also guarding against the subtle impulse to call Johnny back for a job interview but not Jamal. (Applause.) So that we search our hearts when we consider laws to make it harder for some of our fellow citizens to vote. (Applause.) By recognizing our common humanity by treating every child as important, regardless of the color of their skin or the station into which they were born, and to do what’s necessary to make opportunity real for every American -- by doing that, we express God’s grace. (Applause.)
My favorite line was "we're guarding against not just racial slurs, but we're also guarding against the subtle impulse to call Johnny back for a job interview but not Jamal."
Income inequality as political rhetoric doesn't resonate unless it is clear that race trumps class when you are black and applying for a job. The president made it clear in that one line. I thought about the research study "Are Emily and Greg More Employable Than Lakisha and Jamal? A field experiment on labor market discrimination." My black middle-class respectable self still gets followed around when shopping. My Afro-Puerto Rican husband gets hassled by cops. If we don't tackle racism in intersection with gender and class issues, my freedom is going to be a longer time comin' than yours, if you are white.
And then he talked about Grace. Amazing Grace.
I can remember watching Bill Moyers' PBS documentary, Amazing Grace, on the origin of the hymn, which gave me a deeper understanding of its roots in the slave trade.
It's one of the most popular and beloved songs in the English language. Transcending race, creed, geography, generation, and social station, Amazing Grace has been recorded more times than any other hymn and is widely credited with transforming lives. Written by John Newton, an English clergyman and former slave-ship captain, the poem was published in 1779 and took on its familiar tune during the Second Great Awakening in the United States. In this inspiring program, Bill Moyers explores the song's origins and enduring power. Produced and directed by Emmyr and Peabody winner Elena Mannes, this documentary features illuminating conversations and stirring performances by Johnny Cash, Judy Collins, Jessye Norman, Marion Williams, the Boys Choir of Harlem, shape-note singers, prison inmates, and more. There are 24 renditions in all, no two alike, and each filled with emotion and conviction. With Jeremy Irons as the voice of John Newton.
It has a special and multi-layered meaning in the black church and black community. We have raised and embraced the children of rape, with grace. Why do you think we are so many shades of brown? We have nurtured and nursed your white children, with grace. Cleaned your toilets, shined your shoes, portered your trains, picked your cotton, and we haven't slaughtered you in your beds. We have both amazing grace and fortitude. We have welcomed into our community white wives and husbands. We have welcomed you into our churches. Just like the folks at Mother Emanuel welcomed killer Roof.
Aretha Franklin has been dubbed "The Queen of Soul," and like many other black artists her roots were in the black church of her father the Reverend C.L. Franklin, who also organized in the civil rights movement.
I will close with Aretha's version of Amazing Grace, but before I end, I ask that those of you who want to see Democratic victories in the future, to please abstain from denigrating and mocking the members of this party who are a solid core of our base and are people of faith. We want the same things. Jobs, justice, an end to racism and most importantly—R.e.s.p.e.c.t.
Thank you President Obama. You have handled all the vile racism thrown at you daily—
with amazing grace.