As I sit in my home, on the eve of my youngest son’s First Communion, after having prepared his three piece suit (which he insisted upon wearing for such a special occasion… makes a dad proud ), I have been reflecting on the events going on in our nation for the past few weeks.
I have watched with angst and anger as a man named George Floyd, had his life taken before the world. I have found myself grieving for his family at their loss. I have found myself angry at the cruel and unnecessary nature of Mr. Floyd’s death. I find that I am afraid for the safety of my children; and as a law enforcement officer, who has been committed to justice, I have been thoroughly entrenched in the conversations about race, racism, and injustice.
I live with the knowledge that this is not a new phenomenon in our society, which prides itself on the rule of law; but is meek in its dispensation of that law along racial lines. Just as I know, almost instinctively, that my fears are not new; but are inherited from generations of lived experiences of a million tragedies just like George Floyd. They are the fears of my father, who has lived nearly 70 years on this Earth; just as they were the fears of his father, who passed away 10 years ago, with that same feeling of fear, uncertainty and doubt about his family’s future; because his experience – of living in black skin, comes with almost certain guarantees of suspicion, fear, prejudice – which his son has lived to experience; and now so have I.
Now, this same fear is passed to my sons, who are afraid and concerned about their dad, and themselves. In all of this however, there is another component to this reality that until this moment in time, I had not considered before: How do I explain these realities through the context of our Christian faith; and more specifically so, as Catholics?
The reality is, as Catholics, black Americans comprise a very small percentage. According to the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, of the 41 million African-Americans in the country, Catholics who are black number roughly at 3 million. By comparison, white Catholics in the United States number roughly 42 million, out of a population of little more than 196 million people. Hispanic Catholics number 29 million, out of a population of roughly 50 million people living in the U.S.
Of that number, there are only 13 living bishops who are black in the United States; and only 8 of those are active. Only 5 dioceses within the United States are headed by black bishops; one of which includes an Archdiocese. Further studies on demographics says as much as 76 percent, over 3/4ths of black Catholics are in diverse or “mixed parishes.”
With such small numbers, black Catholics find it difficult to connect on real substantive matters of racial discrimination or injustice; unless it is seen in the extreme cases such as the tragedy that took the life of George Floyd. Despite the fact that there has been a universal call for love and justice from our Holy Father, Pope Francis; and this call has resonated with bishops throughout more than 144 territorial dioceses, there remains a disconnect between words and actions in the church.
The single greatest disconnect in the message from the chair of St. Peter, happens too often in the pews among the laity. Discussions on race have often been seen as divisive to the body of Christ by many in the church; and in the few times when those discussions are preached in the homily, it is often tepid at best; with very little answers given from the truth of Scripture, or from the wisdom of the Catechism.
This leaves a case of confusion in the day to day lives of the faithful, who need real answers about how to address the world’s problems. A mist in the pulpit creates a fog in the pews; and with no clear direction from our priests on the ground, there are some who choose to dismiss the pains that black Catholics try to explain goes on in their lives. Worse still, many Catholics choose to ignore the presence of racism all together; hoping that it will simply be “washed under the blood of Christ”.
This remains the most hurtful truth that I as a Catholic have had to experience. We believe honestly in the universality of the Church, and its common belief in the familial bond as brothers and sisters in Christ. So, what happens, when those bonds are not felt equally?
To those of us who are black, it comes across as a betrayal of principle. We know that the Bible declares us all equal before God. Acts 17:26-28 distinctly declares:
“From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.”
How then, do we reconcile ourselves to a congregation, a parish, a diocese, or more specifically, a church body that has the principle of love in its Holy text; but not in the heart of its people, to make words into living action? If it remains absent, even in the means to have honest dialogue; and trust that what we as Catholics in black skin are saying about our lives is real, a bitterness born of disrespect for our persons, and the neglect for the pain in our souls, causes us to turn away.
While the sin of racism can be cleansed under the blood of Jesus Christ, the damage of racism must be undone with real work in the trenches. It is messy, it is time consuming, and it is frustrating; but it can be done. I am hopeful by the activism of the people who stand and march with us for change, and to that end, I am praying that it also occurs in the pews. Because true reconciliation and healing can only be achieved among equals. In the cause of racial equality, healing occurs when there is a recognition of the truth of what is going on in the lives of those who are suffering; and a respect of that truth within the context of what is both said and done from the pulpit, to the pew, and ultimately, in the home.
On the day that occurs, victory over the sin of racism will be a reality. I am optimistic for that day; so that my sons can live with the freedoms promised to them in our Constitution. To this end, I am committed to teaching them the principles of our Catholic faith, which has been just as committed to justice, as it is to prayer and salvation. I am prayerfully optimistic for their futures, if only cautiously so.