Faith and Race: A Dialogue Worth Having

Article first published in the Newsletter of the  Parliament of the World's Religions

According to the Abrahamic traditions, including Judaism, Christianity, Islam and the Baha’i Faith, the universe itself was spoken into being. This offers a fitting metaphor for the promise of interreligious dialogue, the promise of a new creation. Like the speaking into being of the universe, for interreligious dialogue to fulfill this promise requires attention to detail. We must be attentive not only to what we are dialoguing about but who is engaged in the dialogue.

In my experience, interreligious dialogue is too often limited to issues of religious identity. The exception tends to be gender. Given that women represent at least half of the human race, talking about the intersection of faith and gender is time well spent. However, historical forces and contemporary social, political and social realities have conspired to make each of us not only gendered beings but also highly racialized beings. Race is always in the room when interreligious dialogue is going on whether we acknowledge it or not.

This may appear self evident, but ask yourself how many interreligious dialogues you have participated in where race is not discussed even in societal contexts rife with racial conflict and oppression? The silence can indeed be deafening. Can there truly be a full and rich exchange across faiths if the meanings people are making of race and the spiritual resources they draw on to combat racism aren’t being discussed? For example, when I participate in an interreligious dialogue, I am never only participating as a Baha’i, but as a Black, male, Baha’i living in the United States. Understanding my faith requires understanding how it is embodied in my experience of being a Black man in America.

For example, I have been invited to interreligious dialogue where participants would walk away having learned a great deal about the life and mission of Baha’u’llah (1817-1892) the Founder of the Baha’i Faith. They may have heard about Baha’i laws and spiritual practices. They most certainly would have heard something regarding Baha’i teachings about social justice. What they may not have heard is that Baha’u’llah compared Black people to the pupil of the eye which is “dark in color but a fountain of light and revealer of the…world.” They may not grasp the impact of this metaphor, which subverts centuries of propaganda making darkness an undesirable trait, on my healing from internalized racial inferiority. They might miss the contribution that the multi-racial, international community Baha’u’llah has raised up has had on the salvation of Black men like me. To offer one example, in 2006 I was welcomed along with thirty-one other Black men from the United States to the Baha’i World Center, located in Haifa, Israel. Our recent services, collaborating with Baha’is in Ghana in the process of community-building, were graciously recognized. Men, whom at home were so often the objects of fear and loathing were celebrated like heroes by people from virtually every nation on earth. It was a taste of heaven I will not soon forget. For me to engage in interreligious dialogue and fail to share such intersections of faith and race represent missed opportunities. Others may fail to appreciate an essential aspect of Baha’i teaching and practice. More importantly, they may miss the chance to engage in a dialogue about the role religion can play in freeing humanity from the inevitable consequences of the color line. Surely that is a dialogue worth having.

Thankfully, I’ve had opportunities to bring my racial reality to interreligious dialogues. One of my fondest memories of being a student at Harvard Divinity School was working with a white, male Unitarian Universalist on a series of dialogues about race and culture for students, faculty and staff. As an alumnus, I was able to participate in a panel discussion about faith-based responses to crisis among people of African Descent that included Baha’i, Muslim and Christian perspectives. These conversations deepened the theological reflection of all involved about the intersection of faith and race and were richer for it. In these conversations, I caught glimpses of the promise of interreligious dialogue, of new worlds of racial unity and justice spoken into being.

Image taken by the author while visiting the Baha'i World Center in Haifa, Israel 2006

I Am George Zimmerman (Sometimes)

Article first published as I Am George Zimmerman (Sometimes) on Blogcritics.com

Agony and outrage have swept the nation in the wake of the killing of Trayvon Martin. African-American mothers and fathers have been pondering the possibility that he could have been their son. The "hoodie" has emerged as a symbol of solidarity, a rebuke to the notion that an article of clothing should be a life and death matter. The role of implicit racial bias is taking center stage in the national debate. Investigations have been launched at all levels of government and the President himself has called for "soul-searching" among Americans.

What this will all mean remains to be seen. The shooter, George Zimmerman, may or may not face justice. "Stand Your Ground" legislation may or may not survive increased public scrutiny. I wonder how much soul-searching will really take place and what will be discovered if it is.

When I search my soul, I have to acknowledge that I have held similar ideas about Black males to those that likely influenced Zimmerman's thinking about Trayvon. While this is a source of a shame so deep I can hardly type the words, it is no less true. In America, you do not have to be White to have your psyche haunted by the image of black-male-as-bogeyman. The Reverend Jesse Jackson controversially acknowledged this in a candid comment published by US News in 1996:

"There is nothing more painful to me … than to walk down the street and hear footsteps and start thinking about robbery, then look around and see somebody white and feel relieved."

I know this pain well. From a very young age my internalized racial inferority was reflected in my suspicion towards other black males. What I did not understand as a child was that many of them were feeling just like I did. We did not have a language for our alienation and anger. What we did have on too many occassions were harsh words, rituals of humiliation, and misguided masculine posturing. We witnessed adults behaving the same way. Some of us would eventually resort to the fists, sticks, knives, and guns that Geoffrey Canada wrote about. Combined with a lifelong media blitz of negative imagery that could have been lifted right out of an antebellum ad campaign, this dynamic of self/other hatred was hardly conducive to feelings of trust.

It was through the Baha'i Faith that I rediscovered the capacity to love myself, and slowly but surely, other black males. It began under the healing influence of the comparison by its Founder, Baha'u'llah, of black people to the pupil of the eye which is "dark in color but a fountain light and the revealer of ... the world." It accelerated through participation in the Baha'i Black Men's Gathering, an international fellowship of brothers assisting each other to apply the teachings of Baha'u'llah to the betterment of themselves and humanity as a whole.

Today, my fear has largely given way to faith, aggression to affection, and judgment to compassion. However, old habits of thought die hard and progress requires persistent and prayerful effort even now. I would be lying if I claimed I did not sometimes have that moment of "wondering" when I encounter a young black male with his hoodie up on a dark Boston street.

My earthly journey has taught me that to successfully battle racial biases in the world, I have to first battle them in myself. I have to be truthful about the fact that, paradoxically, I am Trayvon Martin and yet sometimes I am George Zimmerman as well. At least in my mind. As Abdu'l-Baha (1844-1921), Head of the Baha'i Faith from 1892 to 1921, reminds me:

"Truthfulness is the foundation of all the virtues of the world of humanity. Without truthfulness, progress and success in all of the worlds of God are impossible for a soul. When this holy attribute is established in man, all the divine qualities will also become realized."

Image from "The Million Hoodie March," courtesy of Wikimedia, author David Skankbone

Love Cannot Be Legislated

Article first published as Love Cannot Be Legislated on Blogcritics.

The Supreme Court will be taking up the controversial issue of affirmative action this year. Many are concerned that the court will ultimately strike down the use of race as a criterion for college admissions.Whatever the court decides, it is safe to say that the use of explicitly race-based policies to remedy racial inequities is unpopular among many Americans.

It's important to acknowledge that opposition to such policies is not necessarily animated by racial animus or a belief in racial superiority. For most people it is a question of fairness. "Why should I have to pay for the wrong-doing of people in the past?" This is a fair question to ask. It is particularly poignant for those White Americans who are struggling with material conditions similar to people color.

What this way of talking about the issue reveals however, are the limitations of materialistic approaches to race. Such questions reflect a deeper, perhaps unconscious, concern than fairness. They reflect the logic of the struggle for existence which we share with animals. I must put my needs, or those of my kin, first in order to survive and the social order should protect my right to do so. Such concerns are prominent features of the age in which we live as 'Abdu'l-Baha (1844-1921), Head of the Baha'i Faith from 1892-1921 explained:

"The mass of the people are occupied with self and worldly desire, are immersed in the ocean of the nether world and are captives of the world of nature, save those souls who have been freed from the chains and fetters of the material world and, like unto swift-flying birds, are soaring in this unbounded realm."

Obviously materialistic urges and reasoning are not unique to White Americans or to the issue of race. My point is that dealing effectively with racism, like every other challenge facing our species, must involve thinking and action that transcend material considerations. Doing so could free us to soar in an unbounded realm of new possibilities for social discourse and policy. It could unleash the power of spiritual urges and spiritual reasoning. For example, we might ask ourselves, "Why wouldn't I be willing to sacrifice myself for the good of my neighbor?"

Whatever the ultimate fate of affirmative action, we will have to come to grips with the reality that love cannot be legislated. Social conditions are a reflection of spiritual conditions, and it is through changing hearts that we will change the world. This is the insight that empowered the striving of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and inspires contemporary efforts such as the National Center for Race Amity. As 'Abdu'l-Baha has written:

"...they shun the obscurity of the world of nature, their highest wish centereth on the eradication from among men of the struggle for existence, the shining forth of the spirituality and the love of the realm on high, the exercise of utmost kindness among peoples, the realization of an intimate and close connection between religions and the practice of the ideal of self-sacrifice."

Image courtesy of Wikimedia, author Daderot, considered in the public domain

Self-Made in America

Writing for The Nation, Katrina vanden Heuvel describes critiques of the "self-made myth":

"Americans benefit every day from government—from consumer protection to roads and bridges to food and safety regulation—even people who claim to hate an 'activist government' are some of the prime beneficiaries of the safety net at a moment when there are still over four unemployed workers for every available job and nearly one in six Americans lives in poverty."

One of the things I found most interesting about this piece is how it connects the policy debate about government with the conversation about class that has emerged in the past several months, largely due to the Occupy Wall Street movement. An example is vanden Heuvel's reference to Senate candidate Elizabeth Warren's comments that no one gets rich on their own. Viewed in this light, the "self-made" myth can be seen as a reflection of class privilege.

Class privilege, like other forms of privilege based on social identity such as race or gender, tends to blind those who have it to reality. This includes the reality of the role that government, whether benevolent or malevolent, has played in a person's class status. For example, there is much denial about the ways that mechanisms of oppression influence who wins and who loses in the game of economic mobility.

While such blindness tends to afflict those who have class privilege, even those at the bottom of the ladder can succumb to it. This is because the self-made myth is inseparable from the ideology of individualism. I must insist that my individual success was self-made. Otherwise, I might feel obligated to share the fruits of that success with those who directly or indirectly helped me to achieve it. It's difficult to put myself first while acknowledging my interdependence with others. Ironically, embracing individualism may result in short term material gain, but lead me to support policies that ultimately harm my prosperity through harming my neighbors'.

The Baha'i Faith locates individualism at the heart of the contemporary crisis facing civilization. In a document entitled "Century of Light" commissioned by the Universal House of Justice, the International Governing Council of the Baha'i Faith, the following observation is made:

"...In the absence of conviction about the spiritual nature of reality and the fulfilment it alone offers, it is not surprising to find at the very heart of the current crisis of civilization a cult of individualism that increasingly admits of no restraint and that elevates acquisition and personal advancement to the status of major cultural values. The resulting atomization of society has marked a new stage in the process of disintegration..."

Individualism ultimately flies in the face of the reality underlying the entire universe, as 'Abdu'l-Baha (1844-1921), Head of the Baha'i Faith from 1892 to 1921, explains:

"From the fellowship and commingling of the elemental atoms life results. In their harmony and blending there is ever newness of existence. It is radiance, completeness; it is consummation; it is life itself."

Imagine if such a perspective were to capture the consciousness and animate the strivings of our political leaders and the general public. Imagine a nation where class privilege gives way to a commitment to elimanating extremes of wealth and poverty. A nation where we understood more deeply how much we need each other. A nation where there would be no shame in asking for help but gratitude in being able to offer it. A nation distinguished by radiance, completeness, consummation, and life itself.

Image courtesy of Wikimedia. This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States Federal Government.

The Soul of Black Consumerism

Article first published as The Soul of Black Consumerism on Blogcritics.

Jayne Dirt over at the Clutch Mag Online has raised a question worth pondering during these waning days of Black History Month: "Is Hip-Hop to blame for the rampant consumerism among Black Folk?"

Dirt contemplates the apparent disconnect between the glorification of consumption in the musical discourse of artists like Jay-Z and Kanye West and the economic reality of most of their fans:

"These hip-hop songs boasting of all the material items they have accumulated, and the fabulous gold-plated, diamond-encrusted lives they live is [sic] a bit passé. Unfortunately, Americans (and specifically black folks) are the ultimate consumers and eat up every word of this mess up, dying to buy new Louis Vuitton bags (or sneakers), when they receive government assistance, or live a paycheck above the poverty line."

Given the extraordinary power that music has to influence human thought, feeling, and behavior, this is a fair question to ask. I'll leave it to others more informed about Hip-Hop to debate Dirt's assertions. What I've been thinking about lately are the psycho-spiritual motivations behind consumerism in Black America.

I believe that the feverish pursuit of material things that we witness among Black folk is a racialized expression of the consumerism afflicting Americans generally. For Black Americans, our economic behavior is a reflection of the collision of internalized materialism and internalized racism. Acquiring material things matters because we associate these things (consciously or not) with the power traditionally possessed by White Americans.

Acquiring them has not only practical value, but psychological value as a counter to our feelings of racial inferiority. We need to acquire more and more in order to quiet that nagging sense that no matter how much we have, we are never quite fully human beings. This is why you will witness even Black folk of means self-destruct either through disastrous financial decisions, or self-medicating their self-doubt (i.e. Whitney Houston).

Given our history this is hardly surprising. That a people who were long considered property should come to believe their salvation lay in amassing it is but one indication of the psychic toll of slavery. As such, the antics of a Jay-Z or Kanye West can be understood as reflecting a psyche still held in captivity to materialist conceptualizations of Black identity. It is art imitating life, or perhaps more accurately, art imitating death, the death of human nobility due to the insanity of White supremacy.

If this analysis is valid, it speaks to the urgency of recognizing the ideology of materialism and its bastard offspring, consumerism, as being just as deadly to Black Americans as racism. The need is urgent for consultation on how to resist the internalized materialist-racial inferiority that has claimed too many of our people.

This must involve more than criticizing the cultural apostles of materialism whether in the entertainment industry or otherwise, necessary as that critique is. A radical re-centering of the soul in our lives is required, understanding that our identity is fundamentally spiritual, and beginning to think, feel, and act based on that reality. As 'Abdu'l-Baha (1844-1921), Head of the Baha'i Faith from 1892 to 1921, has explained:

"For man two wings are necessary. One wing is physical power and material civilization; the other is spiritual power and divine civilization. With one wing only, flight is impossible. Two wings are essential. Therefore, no matter how much material civilization advances, it cannot attain to perfection except through the uplift of spiritual civilization. All the Prophets have come to promote divine bestowals, to found the spiritual civilization and teach the principles of morality. Therefore, we must strive with all our powers so that spiritual influences may gain the victory. For material forces have attacked mankind. The world of humanity is submerged in a sea of materialism."

Image courtesy of Wikimedia. This image was originally posted to Flickr by PlatoArt at http://flickr.com/photos/69295179@N03/6300327619.

Whitney Houston and the Power of Music

Article first published as Whitney Houston and the Power of Music on Blogcritics

The news came out of nowhere. I was co-facilitating a weekend seminar for people of African descent at the historic Greenacre Baha'i School and Conference Center. A participant stated without looking away from his iPad, "Could we have a prayer for Whitney Houston?" Various hand-held devices among our group began to buzz with texts, tweets and Facebook updates about another Black American icon gone too soon. So began the ritual of public discourse and reflection about the life and death of Whitney "Nippy" Houston.

Some of this discourse and reflection has been particularly thoughtful. Jamilah King of the magazine Color-lines contemplates Houston's rise and fall in the context of all-too-familiar trajectories of Black artists:

"...her drawn out public decline was eerily similar to personal wars waged—and lost—by other black legends: Billie Holiday, Michael Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron. Houston’s death, though shocking, isn’t surprising. She’s the latest in a series of tortured black stars to fall victim to themselves."

Writing for The Nation, Daphne A. Brooks shifts the focus from Houston's personal life to pondering her place as racial-cultural-political force in American history:

" ...she inspired a rainbow connection of Gen X and Y singers to belt across the colorline. The runs that she so coolly executed and bequeathed to multicultural Mariah, Christina and the legion of TRL acts and American Idols who came after her have altered the standard of pop singing for good."

Whether Houston was a tortured Black star or a pop-culture prophet of an emerging multi-racial America, Barry Carter reminds us on the God's Politics Blog that the genesis of Houston's vocal genius was the Black Church:

"anyone who knew Houston understands that her talent came from one place, the God she served at the New Hope Baptist Church in Newark. This is where it all started for its daughter, where she was the darling of the choir as a child who left people speechless, belting out gospel songs and hymns."

In addition to King's, Brook's, and Carter's observations, I believe it would be fruitful to see Houston's passing as an opportunity to consider the power of music itself. This power imposes responsibilities on both its creators and its consumers. One of the things I've found most striking since hearing of her death are the spontaneous and heartfelt testimonies about the meaning of her music in people's lives.

These testimonies, often including spontaneous singing of her songs, have reminded me of how the Baha'i teachings describe the impact of music on human beings. This is equally true of music in both secular and sacred forms.

Regarding music, specifically the human voice, 'Abdu'l-Baha (1844-1921) made the following observation:

...wonderful sounds and tones, melodies and charming voices...attracts and exhilarates the spirit of man and has great effect upon him: it makes him weep or laugh; perhaps it will influence him to such a degree that he will throw himself into danger...Consider how strange this is, for nothing comes forth from the singer which enters into the listener; nevertheless, a great spiritual effect is produced.

Reading these words, Houston's "Greatest Love of All" comes to mind. There are psychological, political, and social implications to such a powerful phenomenon. Music can be equally use or abused, inspiring both the best and worst in human beings. Hip-hop, whose infectous beats and rhymes have emerged as a global, cultural force influencing the consciousness, emotions, and behavior of millions is but one example of this duality.

Thankfully, there are those who recognize this. Musicians across the globe are striving to create spaces for learning to exercise this power in ways that encourage human nobility and social salvation. Within a Baha'i context, efforts of inspired souls such as Eric Dozier and J.B. Eckl, Badi, and the Dawnbreaker Collective are some sterling examples. We need many more.

In honor of Whitney "Nippy" Houston, whose voice so beautifully incarnated the positive possibilities of music, I'll close with this prayer revealed by Baha'u'llah (1817-1892), Founder of the Baha'i Faith:

"Thou beholdest, O my God, how every bone in my body soundeth like a pipe with the music of Thine inspiration, revealing the signs of Thy oneness and the clear tokens of Thy unity. I entreat Thee, O my God, by Thy Name which irradiateth all things, to raise up such servants as shall incline their ears to the voice of the melodies that hath ascended from the right hand of the throne of Thy glory."

Image courtesy of Wikimedia. It is a work of the U.S. Government and considered in the public domain