Sorry, Blame It On Me

This past weekend, I attended the United Methodist Student Movement's 2008 Student Forum at American University in Washington, D.C. Focusing on the theme "Be The Change," we spent the weekend in worship, fellowship, and learning about the legislative process in the United Methodist Church and the issues facing church and society today.

This issue of racism and the church's response came up frequently. On Friday, there were a variety of immersion trips into D.C. My group focused on gentrification and toured the historical Shaw neighborhood, the location of the 1968 race riots and, of course, Ben's Chili Bowl. Other groups learned about civil rights, women's rights, racism of mascots and so on. We were blessed to have present at Forum representatives from the Oklahoma Indian Missionary Conference; we heard from a number of people regarding the church's responsibility to honor the indigenous people of this country and participated in a letter-writing campaign urging the Washington Redskins to change the name of their mascot.

One thing that struck me in particular was beautifully framed in a sermon delivered by Jennifer Battiest of the Oklahoma Indian Missionary Conference. Jennifer described some of the injustices that persist in this world and reflected on the ways in which the church often refuses to shoulder responsibility for past crimes. She cited R&B singer Akon, whose song "Sorry, Blame It On Me" begins with an apology for his own misdeeds but then goes on to apologize for things he did not do but for which the guilty party refuses to take blame. Jennifer reminded us of another person who long ago took blame that wasn't his. She asked us why we can't use that as a model for righting wrongs that perhaps we did not take a part in personally but, because we are the body of Christ, for which we are collectively responsible.

Later, I was having a conversation with a group of students attending Forum, and one of them, a young white man, told us that he was tired of being preached at. Why, he asked, should he be made to feel guilty for things he didn't do? I reacted very strongly to his question in part because, just days before the conference, I had read Toni Morrison's novel The Bluest Eye. In this heartbreaking but compelling story, Morrison tells about a young black girl, Pecola Breedlove, who prays every day for the blue eyes that are so beautiful on the white baby dolls she had seen all her life. This summer, I will be working at Asbury Temple UMC in Durham, North Carolina, a predominantly African-American congregation. I will spend a great deal of my time working with the children of the surrounding community. I am white, and I have blonde hair and green eyes. I somehow must become a role model for these children while affirming them in their own identity. As long as little black girls are told that their dark skin and eyes don't match the standard of beauty in this country, I will be accountable for that sin and for combating that and many other injustices perpetrated by history and by our media.

The important thing in situations where the church or some sector of the church is guilty of injustice is not that those of us who are privileged guilt-trip ourselves into oblivion. However, as long as individuals and groups are marginalized and oppressed, even because of sins committed hundreds, even thousands of years ago, the church must be brave enough and compassionate enough to take responsibility and action. Paul notes that being part of the body of Christ means that "If one member suffers, all suffer together with it" (1 Corinthians 12:26). If even a single member of the body of Christ is oppressed, we are all oppressed. None of us can be whole until all are honored and loved. Practically speaking, this is not easy, because as much as this is a communal effort, it takes individuals who are willing to take the blame and be the change.