I have my work cut out for me with this blog, you know. On the surface, at least, two of these topics (Race & Higher Education) seem much, much more related than the third, Spirituality. Why, of all places, should race be such an important conversation in the church? As if the world isn’t divided enough, along comes Nnamdi, scrutinizing the intersectionality of race and religion, generating lots of questions and discussion and very few solutions in the process. Seems pugnacious, to say the least. And somehow, I’m supposed to convince people that not only is this interesting, but it’s also a worthwhile, productive, and necessary undertaking. Personally, I think in 2018, discussing spirituality without race is very difficult to do, but if you believe otherwise, reading this may help.
For my own sanity, and perhaps for yours as well, this piece is all about the introspection that rationalizes this discussion, at least in my mind. So, let’s give it a shot. Where do we start…
There will be moments in life when we’re faced with distressing situations. You’ll be fired from your job or passed over for a promotion. You’ll experience the untimely demise of a family member very dear to you. You, or someone you care about, will discover they have health complications. Although it may pale in comparison, advanced degree programs can be very distressing situations… perhaps not every single day, but trust me, you’re in for quite a ride. Couple that with the length of the program: 3 years for physical therapy or law school, 4 years for medicine and dentistry, and 5 to 7 years (sometimes more) for most PhD programs. Needless to say, it’s a rather lengthy distressing situation. You’ll need a little something something to make it through.
That’s what coping mechanisms are for. Coping mechanisms are approaches that we take to improve our ability to persevere through distressing situations. Avoidance is a coping mechanism, albeit most people would agree avoidance isn’t healthy… you can’t just run from things, right? Escapism is another coping mechanism, albeit, again, most would agree that isn’t a healthy coping mechanism. All the Netflix in the world isn’t going to change your situation. There are other coping mechanisms, too. Food is certainly a popular one: lots of people eat when they’re distressed. Alcohol, perhaps? Weed, or other illegal drugs? Sex, maybe? Including but not limited to pornography? Full disclaimer: maybe this is a bit subjective, but I don’t really believe any of these are healthy coping mechanisms. Exercise is certainly more positive. Some people like to cook; I think that’s another good one that’s more positive. Music? Sure, why not. Heck, almost anything is better than most of the things I listed. Here’s the bridge: church, and spirituality more broadly speaking, is a coping mechanism (it’s that and so much more, but just follow the thought process).
For centuries, the church has stood as an institution to help us make sense of our lives. Family values. Purpose. Relationships. Community. Money and material possessions (or the lack thereof). Perhaps one of the most functional elements of the church is sanctuary. SANCTUARY. A place of refuge and safety. A space for nurture and protection. Here’s where we bring it full circle though: what happens when the sanctuary doesn’t feel like sanctuary? Is it more likely to feel like sanctuary for some types of people and less likely to feel like sanctuary for others, and are there circumstances surrounding that?
PAUSE. At this point, the most obvious thing to highlight is our feelings don’t always lead us in the direction of what’s true, so just because something doesn’t “feel” like a sanctuary doesn’t mean that it isn’t. Indeed, I can say, “It doesn’t feel like a Monday”, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t Monday. I can say, “It doesn’t feel like Spring”, but that doesn’t mean it’s not spring. Feelings are just that: feelings. Still, I think this is where we start to see the intersection of race and spirituality. The honest reality is the church may not always “feel” like a place of safety, refuge, and support. And yes, there will be unique instances when race, directly or indirectly, is an element of that. Maybe I’ll highlight some examples, in the event you’re still skeptical, which is totally fair:
- Waking up anxious every day for the remainder of Trump’s term, feeling distressed that in one of the most esteemed and diverse countries in the world, the majority of voters cast their ballot for a man you (and many others) feel is racist, and many of those voters go to church with you every Sunday
- Not understanding why you get the sideye when you speak out about how the government, law enforcement, and other institutions oppress (and have for decades) communities of color, even though Jesus made his ministry about reaching oppressed, marginalized people
- Lepers were plagued by their rotting flesh, they were clearly social rejects; tax collectors were reviled and seen as traitors because they were JEWISH, stealing $$$ in the form of taxes from their Jewish brethren, to support the oppressive, ROMAN empire; Samaritans were looked upon with disdain because they were half breeds (part Jewish part Babylonian), not to mention watering down Jewish religion/culture; Jesus clearly interacted with a number of promiscuous women who would NOT have been esteemed in that culture or time period… I can continue, but I think you get it.
- Constantly wondering if your church will appreciate and celebrate your heritage and culture, or if they simply tolerate you as an immigrant from a crap-hole country
- Plagued by thoughts of whether or not your church views you in the same way the media portrays you on the news, television shows, movies, print, etc.
- Here’s one that’s close to home… there are plenty of people who think the only reason why a black or Hispanic student would get admitted to law school, medical school, or a PhD program is because of affirmative action… what if some of those people go to church with me? What if I have to hold hands and pray with those people every Sunday for the next 5 years?
Just some examples. You should also note that those examples aren’t of particularly strong importance for this post. This piece isn’t explicitly about politics (so don’t run with that), albeit there are definitely situations where church, race, and politics are inextricably intertwined, as evidenced by the polarization in the 2016 election. In any case, why are any of the examples I listed of significance? Because the church is supposed to be a sanctuary. When it’s not, it means the person in question just lost, arguably, their most important coping mechanism. Now they have all these distressing situations, and they feel like they have to figure out another means of getting through.
We could discuss in great length the implications that come when the church doesn’t feel like a sanctuary, but I’ll highlight just a few:
Isolation
While every member of a church community won’t be identical, there will be, inevitably, certain overarching similarities. There’s an interest in a deeper relationship with God. There’s an understanding that God expects us to love all kinds of people. There’s an interest in advancing God’s mission here on this earth. There’s definitely areas of divergence as well. Does this feel like family? Is this a safe space? Can I be 100% vulnerable here? I know this is a sanctuary, but is that just a title or is that for real for real? Here’s the bridge: What happens when you’re the only person in the room who doesn’t feel the sanctuary is a sanctuary? I think we generally like to give people the benefit of the doubt. For me, personally, I would be more likely to think there’s something wrong with me before I think there’s something up with everyone else. That can be really isolating. “Why don’t I feel at home? Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray, and the other shootings happened years ago…why hasn’t this uneasiness subsided yet? Why does my heart start racing every time I walk into this building? Why can’t I just feel like everyone else?” Imagine feeling this for the duration of your spiritual walk. This can spiral pretty quickly. I’ll return to that point again in a bit.
Falsification
I’ll highlight my point with an anecdote that I think will hit home. My sisters in Christ, at various points, have shared something along the lines of, “Nnamdi, there are times I feel more loved and respected by men who aren’t even my brothers in Christ than I do men I go to church with. What’s up with that?” I’ve also heard, “Nnamdi, I get lots of attention by dudes that have never, ever stepped foot in a church, but the guys I go to church with won’t even give me the time of day. What’s up with that?” PAUSE. Why are stories like this impactful? They’re impactful because of what they represent. When we become part of a church community, there are certain underlying expectations. I’ve highlighted some of those above: we’re family, and we’ll always treat each other with love and respect. I think the idea of sanctuary is another underlying expectation: this church is a safe place for all types of people.
Interestingly, experiences like these, which I think both men and women can relate to on various levels, actually represent the opposite of the underlying expectations we had when we became part of a church community. There are moments when we actually feel loved and respected by our spiritual family less and actually loved and respected by people outside the church more. There are moments when we feel less like family with our “spiritual” family and more like family with people outside the church, atheists, agnostics, Buddhists, Mormons, etc. Falsification is perhaps a strong word. I don’t mean to imply in any way, shape, or form when you hit rocky patches with your church that they don’t love, value, respect, appreciate you or look to provide you a place of refuge. No way. What I do mean to say is that for every occasion that happens, your conviction in that as a truth is weakened. That is, every time someone feels like their church is not a place a of refuge, their belief that they are actually a part of that spiritual family is weakened. Every time they hear someone at church say something about family or community or respect or compassion or empathy, they’ll think, “That’s true, just not for people who look like me.” Or, “That’s true, but only for certain kinds of people.”
What happens if you have these experiences on the regular? Once a month? Once a week? Once every few days? Every 24 hours? In that case, you’re unlikely to think the church is a place of refuge. Rather, you’ll see it as creating a façade of doing so but uninterested in practice. I’m sure you see how this can be an issue as it festers over time.
Self-Condemnation
Here’s an interesting one. Being in the church comes with certain world views. In general, spirituality does tend to manifest with some general idea of right and wrong. When you’re the only person in the room who doesn’t feel the church is a sanctuary, do you have the problem or do the other 99 people in the room have the problem? Naturally, it must be you. You need to work on my heart. You need to love more. You need to change more. You need to grow more. You need to push more. Okay… but here’s a radical idea: how much of your experience comes from the fact that you’re the only person in the room who looks like you? What if there is a broader issue? What if there is something that needs to be talked about? What if something does need to be addressed? At what point do we say, “maybe this 1 person, the minority in the room, is on to something, and maybe the 99 of us, the majority in the room, may have overlooked this.” Again guys, to me, I just think it’s very difficult to separate race and spirituality. Especially in 2018. I do think there are situations where self-condemnation abounds, and I do think mental health becomes more and more of a concern. In the extreme, you have a concerning level of cognitive dissonance (the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change). You’ll be looking like my man from Get Out and be in the Sunken Place… in CHURCH. Yo, that’s crazy.
Homogenization
I left this at the end, because I thought I may get a bit more push back. Remember, our question is what are the implications when the sanctuary doesn’t feel like a sanctuary? Well, you could leave (I’m not even touching that; that’s another conversation for another time), but what if you choose to stay? You homogenize. You conform. You assimilate. Absolutely. You’re not about to be walking around here with stinkin’ high blood pressure, anxiety, cognitive dissonance, panic attacks, and all that other stuff. No, you’re going to homogenize. So, if you’re the one person in the room that’s different from the 99, you just become more like the 99. As you homogenize more, the cognitive dissonance starts to go away. There are so many problems with that, most of which I’ll have to blog about another time, but let me say this: when the church homogenizes, it becomes far less equipped to handle diversity, of any kind. People who vote differently. People who watch other news outlets. People who take a different approach to advancing the gospel. In almost every respect, I think it’s to the detriment of the church when the church homogenizes. But I think homogenization is one of the potential outcomes when the sanctuary doesn’t feel like a sanctuary.
Wait, don’t leave yet…
I want to be clear. What I write about isn’t always directly linked to my own experiences. I actually take a strong moral issue with anyone who makes that assumption. I can’t write about LGBT topics unless that something that’s keeping me up at night, or “my one good friend is gay”? I can’t write about Trump’s travel ban on Muslims unless I was a Muslim before I converted to Christianity, or “my one good friend is Muslim.”? I can’t write about the #MeToo movement unless I was sexually assaulted, or someone in my direct circle of friends was? I can’t talk about the lack of attention to mental health in the church unless I’m on suicide watch, suffering from severe depression, or “my one good friend is.”? This is going to sound awful, but at some point, in the church, it’s like we lost our humanity. We don’t care about anything happening outside the four walls of the church, unless it somehow directly affects us, or maybe someone we care about (“my one good friend ______.”).
Honestly, I think that’s problematic on a lot of different levels. Guys, we have to do better. We have to do A LOT better. My goal here was to write about the experiences of certain underrepresented populations within the 4 walls of the church, most of whom don’t have a great medium to have this conversation, or even if they did, they wouldn’t do a great job having it (writing these pieces isn’t easy, you know… this isn’t most people’s forte.). Whether or not a piece like this is reflective of my own experiences is probably the least important part of what you’ve read today. My hope is that we’re starting to see more of an interplay here between 2 ideas, race and spirituality, that otherwise seem unrelated, and at moments, at odds with one another. If not, stay tuned, there’s more on the way. Feedback welcome!
Nnamdi