My sermon on May 14, 2023 at Bluegrass United Church of Christ in Lexington, Kentucky.
You can hear the audio version at kennybishop.com/podcast or wherever you get your podcasts.
Psalm 82: 3-4 (CEB)
Give justice to the lowly and the orphan; maintain the right of the poor and the destitute! Rescue the lowly and the needy. Deliver them from the power of the wicked!
Romans 10: 12 (CEB)
There is no distinction between Jew and Greek, because the same Lord is Lord of all, who gives richly to all who call on him.
Today, we’re continuing our series “Be the Church.” We’re basing the series on the banner that hangs here in our gathering space. Over the last several Sundays we’ve talked about caring for the poor and sharing our earthly and spiritual resources; we’ve talked about protecting the environment, embracing diversity, and last week we talked about the importance of forgiveness and forgiving often.
Today we’re looking at a couple of lines on the banner that reminds us that as followers of the ways and the teachings of Jesus, we are called to reject racism and to fight for the powerless. We believe this was important to Jesus, and that’s one of the reasons it’s important to us.
Before I say anything else, I want to make it clear that we are not saying, and we do not believe that people who aren’t white are without power. As a matter of fact, I’d say that in many ways, the exact opposite is true.
But we’ve got to be honest and admit that in our society, especially here in the state where we live, the overwhelming majority of people with the power and authority to make good change are not people of color.
Here in Lexington, we’re fortunate that six of our 15 Urban County councilmembers are people of color. That diversity and those influences, in both culture and experiences, are important if our city is to be healthy and honest with itself.
But on a state level, of the 138 members of our state legislature, less than a dozen of them are people of color, and all but one of them is a member of the minority political party which means their already diminished influence because of their race is even more diminished because of their politics.
A little over 82% of Kentucky’s population is white. If racial minorities were accurately represented here, there should be at least a dozen more people of color in our state legislature. But legislative redistricting has made that pretty much impossible. And that means that important issues that especially impact racial minorities are rarely if ever meaningfully addressed there.
Something else - less than a quarter of the CEOs of America’s 500 largest companies are people of color. It’s about the same when it comes to journalists. Toni Morrison, the writer, talks about the “white gaze” in American news reporting. White gaze assumes that the audience reading or seeing the news is white, which means that most of the stories are crafted for a white audience. That means the stories of Black, Hispanic and Latino, Asian, Native American, and other people of color are not being told as they should. And that means they’re invisible when it comes to being understood and appreciated. And although they are not powerless, that certainly does a lot to rob them of the power, the voice, and influence they should have.
I’m not going to pretend that I know what it’s like to be a person of color.
I’ve not lived their experiences, and I’m not qualified to be their voice in that regard.
I’m a white guy who grew up in a neighborhood and went to schools that were not very racially diverse. The church I grew up in was even less diverse. The folks there weren’t racists as far as I know, it’s just that our style of worship and singing wasn’t what the folks in the Black churches preferred.
I remember sometime back being here at our church on a Saturday morning. I was doing some work on our sound system, and when I turned it on I could hear what sounded like a church service in progress. At first, I thought it was a radio station bleeding into our speakers, then I discovered that somehow our sound system was picking up the service going on over at the mostly Black Seventh Day Adventist Church across the street. Friends, it was good! They were singing big and bold. It was full of the spirit and energy and culture and feel that most Black churches are known for. I just sat and listened and enjoyed having church with them.
As a white person living in a predominantly white culture, I can’t speak first-hand to the racism that people of color face. But I know that they face it every single day.
I’m not speaking to racism today because I think it’s something that needs to be stamped out here at BUCC. I think I know our hearts and how strongly we all feel about that kind of repulsive thinking. When I speak on issues like this one or any other issue that calls us to rise up and seek justice, it’s because we need to be stirred and reminded that we, as the church, are God’s means to make change in our world. I’m proud of the commitment we have to being justice-minded people who are moved with compassion and hearts that want to serve as Jesus teaches us to serve.
And part of that service is being resisters of systems and structures that discriminate and are unfair.
When we talk about these things from this platform, we are simply saying that we are aware of the state of our world and the ways that too many of our fellow humans are being done wrong, and we, as a church, want to do something to make it stop. We feel it’s what Jesus wants us to do because it’s something Jesus would do.
It’s something Jesus did!
Over and over again he stepped up to defend the people who were victims of bigotry and classism and racism and religious bullying. He couldn’t just stand by and allow the abuses to happen. And neither should we.
I have no doubt that if Jesus were in Charlottesville, Virginia back in August of 2017 he would be standing with the racial justice activists who’d gathered there and against the white nationalists who came to terrorize them. I know which side Jesus would be on.
I have no doubt that if Jesus were in Selma, Alabama back in March of 1965, he would have been one of the 600+ marchers who crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge. He would’ve been one of those who were brutally attacked by state troopers who’d been ordered by the racist governor to do whatever it takes to stop that march. I know which side Jesus would be on.
I have no doubt that if Jesus had been on that reservation at Sand Creek in southeastern Colorado back in November 1864, he would’ve stood among the more than 160 Cheyenne and Arapaho people - the women, children, and elderly Indigenous people - who were massacred by U.S. soldiers there. The grisly slaughter may have been led by a Methodist preacher, but I know which side Jesus would be on.
It was the government and it was churches that took Indigenous children from their homes and families and forced them to attend boarding schools where their identities were stripped, their languages forbidden, and their cultures erased. Churches be damned! I still know which side Jesus would be on.
I believe Jesus walked among the Japanese Americans who were interred here in the U.S. during World War II. And among the Vietnamese here who faced routine discrimination after the Vietnam War. And I believe he stood with the Chinese people who lived here in the United States back in the late 1800s and faced incredible discrimination. I believe he saw their humanity. I believe I know which side Jesus would be on.
The scriptures make it very clear where God stands when it comes to the refugee, so we know which side of that issue Jesus would be on.
Jesus is always on the side of humanity. Jesus is always on the side of the oppressed. Jesus is always on the side of racism’s victims.
I’ve mostly been speaking this morning about racism here in our state and in our country. But I know it’s not just a thing here. I know that racism and classism is a universal thing. And it’s true that it’s not just a thing that white people are guilty of. I’m grateful that there are groups and organizations that work to combat and defeat it wherever it is around the world.
There are voices much more powerful than mine and ours that are speaking up and speaking out and making change happen. And one of the ways we can make our voices even louder is by joining ours with theirs.
BUCC is part of the United Church of Christ. The UCC is a beautifully inclusive and diverse community of Christians that’s committed to doing its part to build a world that is just for everyone. The UCC’s Ministry for Racial and Restorative Justice is leading the work and addressing the harms and the sin of racism and classism. We’re proud to be a part of the UCC because of what it believes in and what it stands for - and what it stands against.
I usually try not to make hard, definitive declarations. Many times instead of saying something is absolutely true, you’ll hear me say that I believe it is true. I try to leave room to learn more, and to understand better, and maybe even change the way I believe something to be.
But I can say this confidently and know that it’s true. Racism is a sin.
I believe racism is more than an ideology, I believe racism is a condition of the heart. I believe when someone feels the color of their skin makes them superior to others, yes, their minds have been lied to, but I also believe their hearts have been deceived.
So how do you deal with that? Is there a solution?
I’d love to say that we can put an end to racism. But I don’t guess anyone here believes that’ll ever happen. I do believe though that we can still make change, even if it’s just a little bit, even if it’s just here in our community, in our city, in our state.
We say it around here all the time that we are a place that welcomes and celebrates diversity. You will never hear us say here at BUCC that we do not see color. The answer to racism is not being blind to our differences. As a matter of fact, I think pretending that people of other races and other cultures don’t exist is itself a form of racism.
Humankind was created in God’s image and likeness. All of us, every one of us, are all image bearers of God. The color of our skin does not make us look more or less like God. None of the other things that culture and society and religion and politics use to set us apart from one another are proof of our God-likeness.
If you believe the story is true; in the beginning, God created humans. No one can tell you what language they spoke. No one can tell you what their skin looked like.
In the beginning, God created one race - one human race. Just one.