Ozzie and Harriet in the 'Hood: The continued adventures...

Phew. I certainly did manage to time my blog posts on race relations well, didn't I. Whenever a big story like the Trayvon Martin case comes along, I find myself in a very awkward position between two very important parts of my life...my self-professed and very evident Caucasion-ness, and my long-nurtured and treasured friendships with people of other melanin persuasions. I cannot, in good conscience, come out on the public pages of Facebook and some such like and offer my wisdom  and opinions about the details of the case and the outcome of the trial. It's not that I don't have opinions...I do have some that change every day, depending on how mad I am at somebody else's post.

I can see right now is a great time to tell a racially insensitive joke.
How many washcloths does it take for a white person to take a shower?
NONE--white people don't use washcloths. (OK, most of my white friends won't get that one. I didn't used to. Plus, I made it up, which means it's pretty lame You know me and jokes.)

 Better yet, here's a picture of a cute kitten.

OK, y'all chill now?

Human beings seem to divide over every and all  aspects of life. Our tribal loyalties extend all the way from race and national pride down to whether we like Captain Picard or Captain Kirk best (pfftt...it's Picard all the way, you morons...now, you see? You're mad at me! See how easy that was?). The dislike of the "Other" is so basic to humanity that we can't even see ourselves and our biases clearly. Yes, we are ALL Racists. We are also all Nationalists,  Sexists, Ageists, food-snobs and insensitive to people who like to wear socks with sandals. Maybe it's because we're human. And maybe it doesn't help that all we ever do is hang around people who agree with us on everything from politics to religion to Redskins loyalties.  How much do we ever get to experience being "The Other?" And how does that change our outlook on life?

As I continue (after this long introduction) telling the story of the "Sanders in the 'Hood," I want to stress this understanding of "Other-ness." It is very uncomfortable. And very necessary to the development of our humanity and seeing the Imago Dei in us all. .

After getting my husband's first master's degree done in Minneapolis, we made the big trek to the Big D--Dallas, Texas, so he could work on a PhD in Theology.(That's a 10-dollar word for the "study of God," which is kind of a large subject.) We moved into a 2-room apartment across the street from the school, which was just outside the downtown area. While taking a class in Urban Ministries from an African-American professor, we were encouraged by him to attend his church in South Dallas. Bibleway Bible Church was a mid-sized older church that was predominantly (and by that I mean, until we got there, entirely) Black. I think these folk were used to the stray seminary student wandering in and out now and then, since they never expressed any surprise about us showing up.

It was my first experience in being entirely "the Other" in church. The music had some vague similarities to my Baptist upbringing--they had a hymn book, too.

 But the likenesses stopped there. Never had I heard an organ played like that! No little old lady quietly wheezing away on a pipe organ in the corner...it was ROCK OUT, man! Truly amazing and extremely addicting. I still get all choked up when I hear certain "walking bass" lines in gospel music recordings. The choir sang every Sunday, and we got to sing along...from the audience! Never did that before. And my goodness...interrupting the sermon? With "Amens" and "preach it's" and "That's right!"s. Unheard of. (Well, maybe an occasional "amen" would have been acceptable back home. But there are limits..."Amen" is a Bible word. I'm not totally sure about "Preach it.")

My seminary student husband was included with the other young men-in-training up on the platform behind the pulpit. They were all seated behind the pastor, ready to leap up at a timely moment to offer a pat on the back, an encouraging "You got that right!" or whatever else they could come up with. My hubby looked so cute up there...glowing blond and Nordic in that sea of brown-ness.

One Sunday, the pastor was waxing eloquent on some Bible passage or other. He shouted, "You can talk and talk and talk about this to some people...you can talk until you're white in the face!"

A momentary silence. Then, turning slowly toward my husband, sitting behind him and to his right, he said, pointedly,   "Or...until you're red!"

And oh, my, was he ever.

We all had a good laugh at his expense. That "Other-ness" just liked to stick its nose out like that every so often when we least expected it.  Most of the time it was amusing. Sometimes not so much. But every time it happened, I was reminded of how much we as humans prefer our comfort to our discomfort, and to what lengths we will go to avoid being different from those around us. I even considered getting myself one of those really huge, colorful "church lady hats" just to fit in. But I never did.

We joined the church and became involved in the children's ministry. My husband was offered the chance to preach one of his first real church sermons (that one took a lot of "uh, huh...take your time...that's right!"s  from the audience). It turned out to be a sweet, sweet time for us; we found out we were expecting our first child, and the church folk threw me a surprise baby shower. I'll never forget the first time I felt my baby move...during one of the organ's more raucous offertories, baby kicked up a storm! (He didn't manage to keep this sense of rhythm, by the way...just ask him...he's been blessed with my Swedish immovability). We walked through some deep waters in our congregational life, too...hard times came with the territory, when sin tripped us all up here and there. Through those struggles we saw Biblical leadership displayed, and learned from it.

Our Dallas stay only lasted about 3 1/2 years, but it changed us fundamentally. Never again could we hear "Lift Every Voice and Sing" without getting chills; never again would we wear shorts in cold weather without laughing at our whiteness. And never would we see news articles about racial tragedies without feeling bone-deep sadness. We will never truly understand, and we are aware of that weakness. We are "the Other."

But thank the Lord, the "Other-ness" is transended by the "Together-ness" of the Kingdom of God. And someday that togetherness will be a blessed reality. I long for the day I can sing in the Gospel Choir of Heaven with my black brothers and sisters, and really figure out how to sway in time with everyone else.  (Let's get us some "Total Praise" up in here...we're having church now!)

Oh...and in Heaven, I wanna rock the organ.