“The Problem of Memory of Slavery and Racism at Southern Seminary: An Urgent Call to Remove the Four Founders-Slave Owners from the Seminary’s Current Memory”

For such a time as this, the Southern Baptist Convention, America’s largest Protestant denomination, should be on the right side of history. In 2017, African American scholars and professors Jarvis J. Williams and Kevin M. Jones edited an important book called “Removing the Stain of Racism from the Southern Baptist Convention.” The basic objective of the book was to revisit the history and legacy of slavery and racism in the Southern Baptist Convention, as well as to propose new solutions to heal the wounded soul of the Convention. In fact, the SBC was founded in 1845 because of a split over the issue of slavery.

Historically, the SBC had not only endorsed slavery as an institution; as a Christian organization, it condemned the abolitionist movement nationwide and supported and practiced racial segregation in its churches, seminaries, and institutions. Contributors of the book such as R. Albert Mohler, President of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; Daniel Akin, President of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary; Matthew Hall, Provost and Senior Vice President for Academic Administration of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; Curtis A. Woods, Assistant Professor of Applied Theology and Biblical Spirituality at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; Walter R. Strickland II II, Assistant Professor of Systematic and Contextual Theology and Associate Vice President for Diversity at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary; W. William Dwight McKissic, Senior Pastor of Cornerstone Baptist Church in Arlington, Texas, and others have affirmed the difficulty of the Convention to confront its racial history and make peace with its historical memory grounded on the heresy of white superiority and inferiority of Blacks and African Americans. They also observed that as a denomination, the SBC continues to struggle to remove stains of racial prejudice in its institutions and create a positive image for itself.

For example, in the same book, President Mohler affirmed that “We cannot tell the story of the Southern Baptist Convention without starting with slavery. In fact, the SBC was not only founded by slaveholders; it was founded by men who held to an ideology of racial superiority and who bathed that ideology in scandalous theological argument.” In the opening sentence of his chapter, Hall confirmed that “Southern Baptists are more haunted by the ghosts of white supremacy and racism than most denominations. While the specter of racialized injustice and evil left no corner of American religious life untouched, our family of churches has had a particularly sordid and tragic part to play in this story.” President Akin suggested various virtues and qualities that are necessary if the SBC institutions, seminaries, and churches are going to make any substantial progress toward racial justice and to deal with its racial crisis:

“[O]vercoming racism requires humility and sacrifice of the majority race, virtues that do not come easily. You see, welcoming you into my community on my terns is one thing. But to surrender my preferences so that you can feel at home in what is now our community is something more. But let me go further. Even more humility and sacrifice are needed for me to invite you to the table of leadership and to welcome you to sit at the head of the table. Until we can arrive at this God-ordained destination, our convention of churches will struggle to receive the full blessing of God and attain credibility with a cynical and skeptical culture that already questions the authenticity of our faith.”

Within the same line of thought, I am proposing that in these urgent moments of crisis the Southern Baptist Convention has a golden opportunity to eradicate vestiges of racism and white supremacy embodied in Confederate-related items from its campuses and institutions, and to create a committee to review buildings, facilities, and halls that still bear the names of Confederate members, white supremacists, segregationists, and slave owners, such as the four founders of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary: James P. Boyce, John Broadus, Basil Manly Jr., and William Williams.

Toward this goal, the SBC will make use of this terrific occasion to reinvent itself in the public sphere and to repair its damages as a Christian denomination. This endeavor will move the Convention one step forward toward good practices of racial justice and reconciliation; this constructive effort will also help heal the racial trauma and terror that have for many years affected Blacks and African Americans. This is also a project of both intellectual and spiritual reassessment, and deconstruction and reconstruction. I am suggesting that this important work must begin with the Convention’s flagship institution: The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.

In the year 2017, President Albert Mohler had appointed a committee of six individuals to prepare a report on the legacy of slavery and racism in the history of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. The members of the committee have concluded that the four founders of Southern Seminary, as named above, were active slave owners, ardent white supremacists, and energetically fought against the emancipation of the enslaved population in the United States. In the preface to the report, President Mohler made this honest declaration:

We cannot escape the fact that the honest lament of the SBC should have been accompanied by the honest lament of her first school, first seminary, and first institution. We knew ourselves to be fully included in the spirit and substance of that resolution in 1995, but the moral burden of history requires a more direct and far more candid acknowledgment of the legacy of this school in the horrifying realities of American slavery, Jim Crow segregation, racism, and even the avowal of white racial supremacy. The fact that these horrors of history are shared with the region, the nation, and with so many prominent institutions does not excuse our failure to expose our own history, our own story, our own cherished heroes, to an honest accounting—to ourselves and to the watching world.

Below, I share five major conclusions from the report (The name of the report was “Report on Slavery and Racism in the History of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.” The complete document can be accessed on the website of the Seminary.) that substantiate my underlining thesis:

1. “The seminary’s founding faculty all held slaves. James P. Boyce, John A. Broadus, Basil Manly Jr., and William Williams together owned more than fifty persons. They invested capital in slaves who could earn for their owners an annual cash return on their investment.”
2. “The seminary’s early faculty and trustees defended the righteousness of slaveholding. The semi-nary faculty supported the righteousness of slaveholding and opposed efforts to limit the institution. A number of the seminary’s prominent trustees advanced public defenses of slavery. Despite his early opposition to slavery as a young man, Basil Manly Sr. eventually became one of its most ardent apologists.”
3. “Upon Abraham Lincoln’s election, the seminary faculty sought to preserve slavery. They believed that Lincoln’s election threatened the extinction of slavery. Boyce believed that sudden secession would be disastrous, and that negotiation with the Republicans would produce guarantees of protection for slavery. Manly and Williams seemed to view secession as the only hope for preserving slavery. Additionally, trustees such as Benjamin Pressley had made arguments for secession as early as 1851, claiming that defending slavery was of such vital priority that southern states should be prepared to leave the Union.”
4. “The seminary supported the Confederacy’s cause to preserve slavery. Faculty, trustees, and students joined the effort to defend the independence of the Confederacy. Boyce served in the army at the start and at the end of the war and served in the South Carolina legislature for the entire war. At the 1863 meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention, Broadus drafted and presented resolutions pledging Southern Baptist support for the Confederacy. Broadus and Manly wrote and published literature calling soldiers to believe in Christ and follow him faithfully. Broadus preached the gospel among the soldiers. Students, as well as future faculty members, fought and served as chaplains. All sought God’s blessing for Confederate victory and independence.”
5. “In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the seminary faculty appealed to science to support their belief in white superiority. The faculty believed that science had demonstrated black inferiority. They were convinced of the superiority of white civilization and that this justified racial inequality. They did so with full confidence that their views were the conclusions of empirical observation undergirded by leading scientific authorities. Writing in 1882, Broadus advanced this sort of thinking, concluding that supposed black moral inferiority was connected to biological inferiority. For his part, Mullins put the matter starkly: ‘It is immoral and wrong to demand that negro civilization should be placed on par with white. This is fundamentally the issue.’ In his estimation, black political participation was the primary culprit in the “race problem.’ Charles Gardner concluded that science had established the inferiority of blacks, appealing to pseudo-scientific studies that concluded that whites were the products of more advanced evolutionary processes: ‘The negro should in some way be brought to the frank recognition of his racial inferiority.’”

To bring this important matter in the context of the ongoing events in our country, since the tragic death of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis, across the country and the world, protestors and state leaders have asked to reexamine America’s racist legacy, especially associated with the institution of slavery, Confederate ideology and nationalism, and Jim Crow laws/segregation. In various major urban areas and at least 22 cities such as Richmond, Virginia; Jacksonville, Florida; and Indianapolis, IN; Mobile, AL; San Francisco, CA; New London, CT; Atlanta, GA; Frankfurt, KY; Louisiana, NO; Boston, MA; Detroit, MI; and Minneapolis, Minnesota have already removed or approved the removal of Confederate monuments and statues of slave owners. For example,

• In Alabama, a bronze statue of the Confederate Navy officer Raphael Semmes, was removed from Mobile street and now relocated in the History Museum of Mobile.
• In San Francisco, California, a statue of Christopher Columbus was removed and now placed in storage.
• In Delaware, a statue of a renowned former Delaware leader who owned slaves was removed from the public place.
• In Florida, a Confederate statue that was located in a northeast Florida park for more than a century was recently removed. In downtown Jacksonville, a statue of a Confederate soldier that was located next to the City Hall was also removed.
• In the Kentucky Capitol (Frankfurt), protestors have ordered the governor to take down the statue of Jefferson Davis. Granted their request, the renowned statue will be soon removed.

Beyond the United States, in the city of Bristol, British protesters toppled and then dragged into the river the famous statue of Edward Colston, a notorious 17th-century slave trafficker of Africans. The British people also demanded the removal of the statute of white supremacist and imperialist of Cecil Rhodes. Protesters in Ireland have called to remove a statue of Oliver Cromwell from outside the Houses of Parliament in London. The statue of the celebrated slave trader and colonizer Christopher Columbus was removed in Trinidad and scheduled to be placed in the National Museum or the National Archives. Other protestors have demanded the removal of the statue of the American slave owner Thomas Jefferson in multicultural Paris, France. The presence of these statues and memorials in the public space continue to remind us of the cruelty of slavery and colonialism, as well as the history of suffering and subjection of enslaved African population in the Americas. Black people and people of color in the American society continue to suffer the legacy of slavery, racial trauma, and racial segregation.

In addition to the multiple reasons stated above, the most pressing cause I am requesting the removal of the names of the four founders from Southern seminary’s halls, library, undergraduate college, chapel, and elsewhere on campus is that they do not belong to today’s multiethnic, multiracial, and multicultural Southern Baptist Convention and SBTS. The names of these four gentlemen bring too much pain and suffering to African Americans, Black Christians, SBTS Black seminarians and alumni, and the numerous African American and ethnic churches affiliated with the SBC. Also, their names on the Seminary’s halls, library, chapel, and undergraduate college remind us of the long-held tradition of suppressing the freedoms and rights of Blacks and people of color in this country and in the Convention, concurrently. To continue to honor these figures at Southern Seminary and the SBC is to express racial insensibility and to undermine the dignity and humanity of Blacks and African American people, and people of color. In the same line of reasoning, to maintain these four names in the Seminary’s current memory and archive is to overlook the rich legacy of blacks and people of color in their struggle for racial justice, equality, integration, human rights, and freedom in the American society. Below, I name the six tangible items, memorials, and symbols that need to be renamed at Southern Seminary:

1. Boyce College: Boyce College is the undergraduate branch of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; it bears the name of the slave owner, white supremacist, and Confederate preacher James P. Boyce. James P. Boyce was the first President of Southern Seminary, from 1859-1888.
2. James P. Boyce Centennial Library: The main library of Southern Seminary also bears the name of James P. Boyce.
3. Manly Hall: Basil Manly, Jr., served as professor of Old Testament at Southern seminary from 1859-1871, and 1879-1892, respectively. Manly Hall at the Seminary honors his racist legacy as a slave master.
4. Broadus Chapel: The main chapel at Southern is named after John A. Broadus. Broadus was the second president of Southern Seminary, serving from 1889-1895. He was a fierce defender of the institution of slavery and white supremacy.
5. Mullins Hall: The designation Mullins Hall refers both to the entire student housing complex and to some individual units in it. Edgar Young Mullins served as Southern’s fourth president, from 1899-1928. Mullins Hall celebrates his mixed legacy as a white supremacist, a Baptist preacheand a champion of racial segregation.
6. Williams Halls: The designation Williams Hall refers to Dean and Administration offices, Faculty offices, and some Dorm housing. William Williams served as Professor of Church history at Southern Seminary, from, 1859-1877. Williams Halls celebrates the mixed legacy of a slave master and white supremacist.

In conclusion, I hope the Southern Baptist Convention and the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary correspondingly will be committed to completely removing the four finders’ names, items, and symbols that memorialize their racist history and racial practices. By removing their names, the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and the Southern Baptist Convention would show to the American public and Black Christians that their commitment to racial healing and reconciliation is not a matter of lip-service; rather, it is matter of practice and upholding human dignity and worth as Christian organizations. To continue to memorialize these four individuals (James P. Boyce, John Broadus, Basil Manly Jr., William Williams) is to bring dishonor to the gospel and to bring shame to the Church of Jesus Christ. This is a matter of great urgency; it is also a matter of great significance for the future and public witness of the Seminary and the Convention, correspondingly.

Bibliographic References

The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, “Report on Slavery and
Racism in the History of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary,”
https://www.sbts.edu/southern-project/. the complete document can be
accessed on the website of the Seminary.

Los Angeles Times Staff and Wire Reports, “Where have statues of
Confederates, and other historical figures, been removed?” Los Angeles
Times, June 19, 2020,
https://www.latimes.com/world-nation/story/2020-06-16/confederate-statues-removed;
Ivan Pereira,” Here’s where Confederate statues and memorials have
been removed in the US,” ABC News, June 19, 2020,
https://abcnews.go.com/US/confederate-statues-memorials-removed-us/story?id=71200382

Bonnie Berkowitz and Adrian Blanco, “Confederate monuments are
falling, but hundreds still stand. Here’s where,” The Washington Post,
June 20, 2020,
https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2020/national/confederate-monuments/

Marlene L. Daut, “Tear Down that Statue, Mr. Macron!” History News
Network, June 14, 2020, https://historynewsnetwork.org/article/175963

The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, “The History of the SBTS,”
https://archives.sbts.edu/the-history-of-the-sbts/

Southern Baptist Historical Library and Archives: Biographies,
https://www.sbhla.org/bio_eymullins.htm

“Can Evangelical Christianity Be Redeemed?
John MacArthur’s Racial Insensibility
and His Disregard for Black Humanity and Dignity”

On Sunday, June 7, 2020, prominent Evangelical leader and pastor John MacArthur of Grace Community Church, located in Sun Valley, California, delivered a powerful sermon at his home church entitled “Who’s to Blame for the Riots?” His basic objective was to provide an analysis on the recent events happening nationwide; more particularly, he was concerned about the protests and strategies of the Black Lives Matter movement. In the sermon, MacArthur made references to four major passages in the Bible to condemn street protesters, street rioters, and those who are marching for justice and life in the American streets. The supporting texts include Isaiah chapters 1, 5, and 28, and Romans chapter 3. In this post, I will summarize the key points in MacArthur’s sermon; the format to be followed is bullet points.

• In the sermon, he directly blames the individuals who are associated with the Black Lives Matter movement, particularly those who are protesting and rioting in the streets.
• He characterizes them as “lawless mobs of criminals attacking the police.”
• He states that the police are put in a state where they “can’t act to protect property;” nonetheless, “rebel mobs are allowed to destroy it.”
• He continues by noting, “You can’t shop in a store, but you can loot it. You can’t work, but you’re free to steal. You can’t attend church, but you can burn it down. You can’t eat in a restaurant, but you can demolish it. Now we’re seeing charges being brought in these riots, not against the rioters, but against the police.”
• He calls the protesters those who “worship the god of anger, the god of hate, or the god of vengeance.” In other words, he does not ascribe any human dignity or humanity to those who are risking their lives in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic to demand justice and to put an end to police brutality and systemic racism in this society. To put it bluntly, black people are angry, ungodly, and vengeance seekers.
• For MacArthur, these individuals not only hate this country, they also hate the Police force. They are seeking vengeance because they’re ungodly, that is, they are not Christians, according to MacArthur’s definition of Christianity. Interestingly, the street protesters included both evangelical and non-evangelical Christians from all racial, class, and economic background; there were also other members of the Christian clergy, and other individuals and ministers belonging to non-Christian religious traditions marching for national justice, internal peace, and the respect of human rights in this country.
• MacArthur did not make a distinction between street rioters and street protesters. Everyone falls under the same category, MacArthur’s non-Christian category.
• He argues that the Police are “the protectors of the good and the punishers of those who do evil.” Therefore, to call to abolish the police is a “perverted solution.” He also notes that the police are the ones being insulted and ridiculed. Here, MacArthur seems to prioritize certain lives by undermining other (Black) lives. In other words, by inference, some lives have more values and dignity than others.
• According to MacArthur’s logic, the reasons street protesters are protesting police brutality, systemic racism, and the violations of Black rights in the United States has nothing to do with education, not even the economy. He reiterates that it is not even “a problem of social inequity.” In other words, MacArthur denies three major issues in the American society in regard to the Black experience: (1) the denial of economic inequality or wealth (mis-) distribution, (2) the denial of social inequity, and (3) the denial of the problem of inclusion and the misrepresentation of Blacks and people of color in the nation’s education system and higher learning.
• MacArthur infers that that proponents of the Black Lives Matter movement and the street protesters are individuals “without a conscience.” They are “criminals [who have] become heroes.” By contrast, the police as “the real heroes” are vilified because everything is upside-down” in society.
• He continues by observing that the reasons Black people and others are protesting is “not related to a lack of opportunity. It’s not related to a lack of money. It’s not related to a lack of privilege, a lack of education.” Once again, MacArthur denies three other important factors in respect to the experience of Blacks/African Americans and people of color in society: (1) he denies white privilege, (2) he fails to acknowledge that white people have more privileges and opportunities than people of color in the American society, and (3) he undermines that white people have more educational power and influence than Blacks and people of color in this nation. For MacArthur, there are no systemic problems or structures in place in society that privilege whites or people of European descent in this country.
• Furthermore, MacArthur calls street protesters and those associated with the Black Lives Matter movement as “people [who are] opposing God.” He underscores his personal conviction by stating, “I don’t care what their ideological issues are. I don’t care what it is that they think is unfair or unjust.” In other words, he is encouraging injustice and unfairness toward Blacks and African Americans, and people of color. Thus, these populations should not fight against mistreatment and racial justice. This is a radical misunderstanding of the doctrine of divine providence in society through the established government.
• Therefore, he could infer that to oppose police brutality, anti-black racism, systemic racism in the American society is “opposing the authority that God has ordained, and they are opposing God.” To put it bluntly, Blacks and people of color in this country should keep their mouths shut and swallow whatever they give them. They have no rights to resist oppression and state-sponsored violence toward them, no rights to defend their humanity and dignity, and they have no rights to claim their right to exist by opposing racial injustice and bigotry toward them. To act otherwise is to sin again God himself.
• Within the same line of MacArthur’s reasoning, the protesters who are countering police violence “have opposed the will of God.” Because of that, they “will receive condemnation upon themselves. God keeps accounts; you don’t get away with it.”
• As he states boldly, “Resistance to authority is rebellion against God, not only government. Resistance should be, must be punished; and when it is punished, they are doing the work of God. This is why there’s a justice system. This is why it’s so horrendous when we don’t trust the FBI, we don’t trust the Justice Department, we don’t trust the people who have that power.” This is destructive theology at best, and a theological system that promotes abuse and injustice toward the weak and the racialized other.
• Finally, for John MacArthur, Black people and people of color who have been mercilessly targeted and even killed by the police is consequential of their own actions, including their failure to “maintain good behavior” and “to fear (of) authority,” appointed by God himself. This is another form of imperial and neocolonial theology, folks. It must be rejected and combated with sound thinking and liberative ideas. This is a theology that destroys black life and postpones black future possibilities. Here are the direct words from MacArthur, “Things happen in arrests. Things happen, conflict with the police. You don’t need to fear them if you maintain good behavior. Do you want to have no fear of authority? Do what is good, and you’ll have praise from them.”
• John MacArthur closes his long sermon by asking the starting question: Who is to blame for the riot and street protesters? John MacArthur does not provide a direct answer to his initial question. Nonetheless, he does infer that those who are protesting and rioting are the products of “families who [have] failed to raise virtuous, [and] disciplined children in loving marriages.” This is a direct insult on Black families and to all Americans who believe there is something systemically wrong with the way things are in this society.

Words of Conclusion

In his 1 hr. and 18 minute sermon, John MacArthur never addressed the roots and causes of street protesting and street rioting. He never acknowledged the problem of systemic racism, mass incarceration, police brutality toward black and brown people in the American society. He never mentioned the name of George Floyd who was violently lynched by the Minneapolis Police force or Breonna Taylor who was shot aggressively eight times in her home by the Louisville Police force. MacArthur never acknowledged there are structural and systemic issues connecting three related institutions in this country: the Police force, the Judicial system, and the Prison system—leading to black criminality, mass incarceration, and black death. Pastor John MacArthur failed to articulate any theological and moral reasons to hold these institutions and systems morally accountable. In the sermon, John MacArthur never said a word about how injustice has radically transformed the black condition in society nor has he made any allusion to the perilous threat of white supremacy in this nation. He made no reference to the racial trauma and terror intrinsic to the Black experience in the United States nor did he articulate any words of consolation, comfort, and compassion to the families of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Marquez Arbery, Rayshard Brooks, and others who are still mourning and undergoing racial suffering. This form of Christianity with no justice and no compassion must be rejected. It’s not worth preserving and it is not liberative, prophetic, and Christ-centered to emancipate Black people and people of color in this nation. Its basic premise is the denial of Black humanity and dignity, and Black rights and future possibilities in this society.

“What Must I Do About this Current Racial Chaos: A Brief Note to My White American Friends”

A lot of you, my white American friends, have messaged me and asked for book recommendations to understand the current racial crisis in the American society. I’m happy to know that you are committed to taking some radical steps to create another country in this place and improve the human condition, especially race relations and the condition of Black people and people of color in the American society. Yet remember this, friends: America has always had a racial crisis since the beginning. We just didn’t want to talk about it or admit it altogether. The American society is, in fact, a racial crisis and was born in racial bloodshed and genocide. This is the first historical truth in the American memory and archive that must be acknowledged toward better race relations and freedom. The suggested texts below try to look at America’s long-overdue racial trauma from multiple perspectives and with an interdisciplinary lens. In closing, I make some propositions to contribute toward the common good and human flourishing.

1. “Stamped from the Beginning” by Ibram X. Kendi
2. “How to Be Anti-Racist” by Ibram X. Kendi
3. “The Color of Compromise” by Jemar Tisby
4. “Just Mercy” by Bryan Stevenson
5. “White Fragility” by Robin DiAngelo
6. “The Color of Law” by Richard Rothstein
7. “Raising White Kids” by Jennifer Harvey
8. “Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?” by Beverly Tatum
9. “So You Want To Talk About Race” by Ijeoma Oluo
10. “White Rage” by Carol Anderson

Finally, let me say this to you, friends! Books are great resources to help us think about difficult and complex issues in society; yet they are inadequate without you being actional toward change. In other words, don’t just read good books and do nothing positive about what you’ve learned from them! Cement the life of the mind with some good actions (praxis) that will radically transform your community and this country. Remember this! Radical transformation and the process of conscientization must begin with YOU. Here are a few things you can undertake to change yourself and this country.

1. Be an ally for justice and Black lives by holding the Police force, the Judicial system, and the Prison system in this country morally and legally accountable. Remember systems are created, maintained, and enforced by human agents. If you’re white or a person of European descent in this country, consider this hard truth: these systems are in place to protect you. You have “white privileges” and “white blessings,” as compared to the way these systems and institutions disfranchize and (mis-)treat Black people and people of color. You should also acknowledge that your white privileges and white blessings are not only systemic and structural; they’re pervasive in all spheres and areas in this country: the economy, education, family, sports, leadership, church, politics, healthcare, higher learning, housing, ownership, history, military, lifestyle, fashion, etc.
2. Fight injustice and racism wherever you are and in all places. This requires the process of reassessing your personal values, interests, and judgments as an individual and an ally for truth and justice. You must recognize that non-White and European people have human rights, black rights, for example. Those rights must be protected and defended at the threat of racial injury and all forms and manifestations of injustice.
3. Do acts of compassion and kindness toward the vulnerable, especially people of color. There’s a difference between paternalism and the practice of intentional compassion. You must reject the former; an attitude of paternalism not only will hold back progress. It will give you too much power over the individual or/and the community you are helping. Paternalism may lead to manipulation and abuse. It will hinder your own much-needed self transformation and spoil all the good fruits in the basket.
4. Do not compromise justice and human dignity when it pertains to engaging and treating non-White people. Justice is a complex and wide-ranging concept. Its various aspects include legal, economic, political, racial, religious, linguistic, and cultural justice. To practice holistic justice will entail your consideration of all these relationships. You must understand that every person is a human being and that human dignity is an intrinsic quality in all individuals and all races, sexes, and ethinic groups. To compromise justice because the individual is not white or European descent is to deny that person (or that community or racial/ethnic group) of his or her most fundamental human characteristic: dignity.
5. Repent and forgive, and be an agent of reconciliation and an ambassador for peace. Unfortunately, the solution to our current racial wound and other complentary crises in this country will involve a long process of recovery. We cannot create another nation untill we learn how to repent of our racial sins and our acts of compromising injustice and violence toward the vulnerable and people of color, especially Black and African American people. Repentance should accompany forgiveness, and genuine forgiveness in the context of this political state would urge the process of reparation. Reparation is not only necessary for political stability and internal, and social justice; it is imperative for economic justice and the practice of these three inseparable virtues: repentance, forgiveness, and justice.
6. Be a learner and a good listener, and always try to reform yourself in the process of change; remember that change is always a possibility and the possibility for change always begins in your community and with YOU.
7. If you’re a person of faith, seek the face and will of God in all of these things through prayer and fasting. One of the central characteristics of God is lovingkindness, which simply means his disposition to practice justice and defend the cause of the weak. God is always in solidarity with the oppressed. As a result, he has called his creation and those who believe and love him to do justice, show compassion to the poor, and defend the vulnerable in society.

My Summer A classes/Teaching schedule will officially end tomorrow: June 17. That explains why I have been grading essays all day. Nonetheless, I had to take a short break to meditate upon the possibility of black hope in the future world through the language of a poem. In the poem, I employ a number of metaphors and symbols associated with the heavenly hosts and natural phenomena to describe the black experience and voice my complaints to the moon, to whom I penned the letter in black ink, entitled “I Sent a Letter to the Moon.” Good night, folks!

“I Sent a Letter to the Moon”

Last night, I wrote a message to the moon with my black ink.
I sent a text to the four corners of the wind,
it has no end.
I spoke about a world with no sun,
a community absence of the stars
a city full of rough winters and summers
no spring to light the pace
the flowers die of a savage season.
children in homes sleep in tears.

Last night, I wrote a message to the moon with my black ink.
I offered up my parole about ten thousand fragments of despair,
notes that fill up the galaxies in blood
complaints that make the rainbow in the clouds hide.
I sent lilies in the heavenly high,
to be heard,
to reach life above.
I bent my heart to receive hope,
as the highest form of sacrifice.
Blinded by the beauty of the moon,
the angel of death gave access to the gates of light,
the angel of deception sat on the top of the heavenly ladder.
They led me to the Queen of heaven,
where freedom in black does not die.

“I’m Tired of RACE”

Racial oppression is exhausting.

Reading about racial bigotry is exhausting.

Talking about racial injustice is exhausting.

Protesting racial violence is exhausting.

Challenging racial inequality is exhausting.

Opposition racist laws & policies is exhausting.

Writing about racism is exhausting.

Living a racialized life is exhausting.

Thinking about race is exhausting.

Ending racism is exhausting.

Race exhausts you and me.

***We’re tired of RACE. Race is dominion and domination. Race is control and power. Race defines you and your place in the world. Race shapes our identity and underscores our behavior and disposition. Yet we must talk about race and resist racism, and we must end racial oppression and injustice in this nation and in the world. We must create another country that is racially unbiased and another world that is post-racial. This is the only possibility in front of us in these urgent moments.

“Race/Racism is More Than a Church or Religious Issue”

Arguably, the Christian church in America is part of a wider national problem: race relations in the American society. It is important that we should hold other institutions and systems of domination (i.e. the University, the Judicial system, the Police Force, the Military, the Financial system, Public Education, Religion) in society equally accountable to America’s racial crisis. As a social institution, the church can certainly contribute to both democratic and racial progress in society. Yet it is not the only solution to America’s racial dilemma.

The racial crisis in the American culture is more than a religious or spiritual matter. Racism is more than a problem of the human heart, contrary to what most christian pastors traditionally believe. The race problem needs more than a spiritual solution. When we examine the nation’s race plight only through the lens of the Christian Church, especially in reference to the church’s moral standard and contribution to race dynamics, I believe we are asking too much of the American church that it is able to deliver in society. In fact, the American Church is very racist and racially segregated; unfortunately, the doctrine of racial difference is a fundamental characteristic of the Christian church in America. However, while the Christian Church is part of the racial crisis in America, it is certainly part of the solution to the race concept–only if American Christians desire it to be so or contribute to this end. The Christian church in America has more than a moral obligation to the race problem.

Moreover, we should remember that race is ideological, legal, economic, educational, and also involves class and gender issues. In other words, if we desire to improve racial problems in society, we have to have a deliberate conversation about how other institutions and power-structures in this nation have also contributed to where we are right now in society. For example, we have to address the critical issue of equity both in public schools and higher education in this country. The issue of gender, ethnic, and racial representation in the nation’s institutions, companies, or workplace is more than a church problem. Further, we have to make our legal system work for everybody and challenge its racial and gender bias so that justice would be fair and equal to all, both men and women. We must also tackle the structures and systems in society that favor the rich and disfranchise the poor and the economically-disadvantaged populations; it is important to ask this vital (economic) question: why does 1% of the American population own 46% of the country’s wealth? Also, urgent questions about income distribution and inequality in wages, health issues, and living conditions are important matters that transcend the religious aspect of our racial problem. Finally, we should be thinking about how various ideologies continue to fuel and sustain the American government and its political systems, as well as the great divide in the nation’s political parties. These matters are beyond the scope and responsibility of the Church; they need to be treated in their own terms.

When we consider race as an integral feature of the American society–not just a church, spiritual, or religious issue– like other equally important matters of gender, economics, or class, we would certainly have a better idea on how to improve race relations in this country. In the meantime, we should remember that race is more than a theological or religious problem. The Christian church is not the end of race prejudice in America; yet the Christian church must make reparation for its role in sustaining chattel slavery and racial segregation in the American society.

I wrote a poem this morning that tells a particular story: the global narrative of Black trauma in the world and the various ways it is felt, expressed, and demonstrated through black poetry and songs. The poem is called “Let Them Testify.” It is a poem about black voices in blood and in pain.

“Let Them Testify”

Black trauma is recognized in all the places of the world:
Black trauma is visible in the streets of Ferguson;
In the slums of The Capital of the World;
in the way toward The Big Smoke;
in the road leading to The City of Light;
in the ghettoes of The Magic City.
It is acknowledged in the streets of Mini-Apple.
where George Floyd is put to rest.
Black trauma flows with the ancient rivers,
in the deep transatlantic sea;
spinning around the oldest star.

Black trauma is recognized in all the places of the world.
In language and in sound:
by reading the words of the Black flag, “A man was lynched yesterday”
by hearing the black cry, “I Can’t Breathe”
when White folks say, “I fear for my life.”
When the media (mis-) characterize black lives as:
“brutes”
“thugs”
“suspects”
“persons of interest…”
Black trauma is not just an action or a feeling
that kills men in black;
It is the language in white ink that destroys dark-skinned women.
It is the law of the land that shuts off black breath.

Black trauma is recognized in all the places of the world.
In the black pages of a black poem:
When Leon Damas writes, “A taste of blood comes to me
a taste of blood fills
my nose
my throat
my eyes.”
In the lamenting words of Aime Cesaire:
“What is mine
a lonely man imprisoned
in whiteness
a lonely man defying the white
screams of white death
(TOUSSAINT, TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE)”
When Leopold Senghor thunders:
“A factory of revolts
Raised up by long centuries of patience.
I need shocks and shouts of blood
And death!”
Black trauma is a tragic song for all to hear.

Black trauma is recognized in all the places of the world.
It is the engine that fuels black whooping, shouting, noise-making…
the voice of black folk in black rhythm and lyrics,
chronicled in the Spirituals and in The Blues:
“Don’t leave me,
Lord Don’t leave me behin…’
I’ll be buried in my grave,
and go home to my Lord and be free.”
When death rages black soul and threatens black lives,
Black trauma shouts:
“Same train, same train,
Same train, carry my mother,
Same train, carry my sister
Same train be back tomorrow;
Same train, same train.”
When The Blues singer rages:
“Oh, Ahm tired a dis mess,
Oh, yes Ahm tried a dis mess…
I’m awful lonesome, all alone and blue,
I’m awful lonesome, all alone and blue,
Ain’t got no body to tell my troubles to.”
Black trauma fills up the empty pages of the black diary.

Black trauma is recognized in all the places of the world.
I sing your suffering and pain in Kreyol,
with rage in my voice,
in the black
streets
of Port-au-Prince
of Cap-Haitien
of Jacmel
You lament my worries and anguish in the Colonizer’s language,
in the sound of the African Blues,
in a South African night,
covering their dark faces in the Black Mask,
Miriam Makeba leads the crowd,
and they sing the Freedom Song:
“Soweto blues — abu yethu a mama
Soweto blues — they are killing all the children
Soweto blues — without any publicity
Soweto blues — oh, they are finishing the nation
Soweto blues — while calling it black on black
Soweto blues — but everybody knows they are behind it
Soweto blues — without any publicity
Soweto blues — god, somebody, help!
Soweto blues — (abu yethu a mama)”
I protest your death and incarceration in Yoruba,
calling upon the Dark Continent
for a little light
to continue the fight
to end the bloodshed
and win the REVOLUTION.
You know my misery,
you riot in the streets of Senegal for my liberation,
contending white silence
white fear
white bar
white blood
white death
Black girls’ tears, I heard
in the white
streets
of Minneapolis
of New York City
of Miami
Black trauma means many Voices of Blood!

I dedicate this poem, “Searching for You,” to everyone who believes it is still possible to create a better world through human solidarity, loving empathy, selflessness, and anti-racist practices.

“Searching for You”

I have been searching for you since the day I was forcibly brought to this strange land.
four hundred years and one have passed,
you’re still not here;
I couldn’t find you when I was harassed;
You ran away from me during my long days of captivity.
You fled the scene when my oppressor uprooted me,
my family from our native land.
You deferred your strength to bring relief,
adding to my grief;
Now, I live in memory of a deferred dream,
causing my family to be ransacked;
conceived in blood, my children paid the price.
You let brutal men uncover my shame,
taking my virginity in violence and by force,
one, two, three, and even four staging the gaze,
giving me one child, two children, and even three of mixed blood to bear alone.
with flaming despairs, you allowed me to be branded on the breast,
Your absence is my pain;
your silence my sorrow.

I’ve spent my entire life craving your presence,
for four hundred years and one for your rescue.
I have searched for you in the hard places, in the desolate valley of segregation,
where my people are incarcerated and still on Death Row
to help us rise from the dark,
to lead us to the sunlit path of tranquility.
You are my good neighbor when I am weak,
my best friend when I am lonely.
You are the sure path to the mountaintop;
the spiritual light that shines in the dark.
You stand against systemic structures that
racialize
dehumanize
children of God;
you campaign against forces & powers that
alienate
incarcerate
and kill les miserables: black, brown, the poor;
and those clothed in rainbow colors.
You are the voice of enlightenment when things go wrong.
You are an ally to the poor and the marginalized,
a stronghold for the vulnerable.

I have been searching for you for four hundred years and one,
to heal my country,
to restore the place where life is cold;
relationships dreary.
You, who will not acquit the guilty for a bribe,
You, who will not deprive the innocent of her right;
You, who will put darkness out with your light.
You, who will condemn evil in this land.
When we find you, cords of falsehood will be crushed down.
How can we have communal peace and rights if you are not here?
How can we have respect for human life if you stay silent?
How can we have reparations without you leading the way?
How can we know truth and reconciliation if you are absent in our midst?
When you act, you make women and children safe in their homes;
With your words, you cast out worries;
with your strong arms, you dispel threats of death in the workplace.
You are strong enough to beat violent men and break down their arms.

I have been searching for you for four hundred years and one.
You are made up of seven perfect words, to make the world one,
The will of God has appointed you to perfect humankind,
and fulfill his promises to his image bearers.
You, the principle that regulates human life and brings balance to the world.
Your name enriches human relationships,
giving meaning to our hopelessness;
bringing joy to our sadness;
This word means tranquility.
This word is love.
This word is my folly: J-U-S-T-I-C-E.

As the struggle for life and freedom continues, we also continue to mourn the fragility of black existence in this country. Friday Night (June 12), a 27-year-old African-American male, by the name of Rayshard Brooks, was shot in the back and killed by Atlanta Police. Consequently, I wrote a poem tonight in his memory. In the poem “Cloak of the Light,” I reflect on the life of a frightened pregnant black mother who refuses to give birth to her black son because the world is cruel to his kind; the mother also believes that inevitably, her baby boy will experience death by monster men.

“Cloak of the Light”
for Rayshard Brooks

So often my feeling of your birth frightens me,
every day, like a dog barking in the night;
like an angry tiger in the daylight.
I always feel ready to foam with rage,
against what surrounds me;
against what denies you life and dignity;
against what hinders you from ever being a man.
She carries me inside of her and grows in grief.
She flattens her hands over her belly and makes me invisible.
She conceals the secret for nine months,
to disguise my identity.
My mother hides me in her womb,
that I won’t experience the risk of life and the pain of birth,
the harshness of this world grows in the dark;
where the cloak of light is not bright.
She covers me in her blood that is life;
your skin will lead to your death, she whispers to me;
Boy, I cannot let you out,
to a world of brutality and destruction.
Boy, monster men will break and strike you.
I must hide you deep within.
The world is not easy for your kind;
it is not made for you.
You cannot run with the wolves;
monster hunters will shed your blood;
Black child, I must not soon give you birth in this cruel world.

“The Land of Bitter Tears”

As a person of faith, I’ve been struggling with the problem of human suffering on the global scale, affecting all people indiscriminately. One of the reasons for this self-obsession is because I was born in suffering, and in growing up in a poor family, I have experienced suffering in a deeper level. Another reason is because I was born in a country wherein the majority of its citizens, on a daily basis, experience an immeasurable dose of suffering; it appears that they’re unable to overcome it. Also, I have also witnessed close friends, family members, strangers, and relatives who have suffered greatly and profoundly. A central topic that I have been trying to make sense of and which has occupied my mind and shaped both my intellectual and spiritual life since my seminary days is this: the issue of “Black theodicy.” I have observed the predicament of “theodicy in black” in my country of birth, in Black America, in continental Africa, and elsewhere in the global South. I articulate my own struggle and vulnerability about human suffering, especially black suffering in rapport to the goodness and presence of the Christian God in the world, in various forms of literary productions. For example, I wrote two difficult chapters about it in my new book: “Theologizing in Black: on Africana Theological Ethics and Anthropology.” Perhaps, my most difficult and painful articulation of the issue of human suffering, black theodicy in particular, appeared in the form of a poem I wrote ten years ago—only two days after the January 2010 earthquake that annihilated 300,000 lives in Haiti and caused immeasurable damages and financial deficit. I wrote this poem, “Haiti: The Land of Bitter Tears,” very late at night. I couldn’t sleep. I was severely disturbed and tormented. I was afraid. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I lost words. Language has failed me on that night. I was angry at everyone; at God; at myself; at the Haitian politicians; at the United States; at Canada; at France; at Germany; at oppressive systems and structures (i.e. capitalism, income inequality, economic injustice); and at the International Community….

As we continue to remember those who have lost their lives at the hands of brutal American Police officers and to strive for justice and equality and peace, I am also asking myself this basic query about the significance of God and the meaning of his presence and absence in the midst of incessant black death and the history of racial tragedy in the United States. Hence, I turned to the poem I wrote ten years ago. In various ways, it seems to me that America is/has become “The Land of Bitter Tears” for Black and African American people, as well as for the brown population, the poor, the marginalized groups, and the economically-disadvantaged populations.

“Haiti: The Land of Bitter Tears”
(written on January 14, 2010)

Oh, the most merciful and gracious God, why Haiti again?
Have we not had enough?
Is this what you call love?
This justice is bitter.
We, who are left behind and alienated, how shall we look up?

God of our bitter tears,
where’s grace when it’s most needed?
Where’s hope for our wretched souls?
Where’s love when hate abounds?
Kindness has left us.
Joy is no more.
Peace has renounced us.

God of our endless wounds,
has the land of freedom in black become a graveyard, and a jungle-folk?
Mourning their tragic loss,
A hundred drop of tears,
In Children’s face, they come and shed.
God of our weary years,
long ago Négrier betrayed us;
300 years of bitter herbs…
of poignant and despairing spirituals, we shall sing no more.
Trampled under the strength of the mighty ones…
200 years of failed justice and false hopes,
of foreign uses and abuses of Ayiti Cherie,
What will happen next…?
in peaceful solitude of death, we will be remembered.

God of our silent nights,
have not our weary feet stumbled?
Who will write our story?
Who will write you songs of praise?
Sing joy in the realm of the loss?
How about morning melody?
Have we all been together erased and excommunicated?

God of our heavy sorrows,
if we must die, let it not be like orphans or dogs,
Nor those without hope
May we forever forget?
May we evermore trod?
It’s a long road to Guinea, of eternal dark days ahead
No sun will shine for us, in our dark land.
We know all the roads of the world,
since we were sold in slavery, long ago.

God of our darkened days,
will the moon guide our sleepy paths?
Will we sing the spirituals of the age-old Nile in the new land?
Silence, separation, tears, lynching, all we know and experienced.
We are fragmented and split between;
we knew hope, but experienced bitter tears;
shall we hope again?
We also knew how to count;
shall we count again?
Will another song spring forth from our voice to the sky?

God of our forgotten trials,
on your unqualified loving-kindness,
unconditional mercy and unreserved love,
We shall stand and fall…
Upon the Lord above, in hope our soul shall rest,
Standing tall at thy summit…
Lest we forget Thee…
Lead us into thy Light…
Toward freedom we shall march…
Oh, God of our weary years,
in the land of our bitter tears.