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| SELMA
REVISITED A
sermon by Reverend Rudi Gelsey, January 26, 2003,
Selma, not Selma, N.C. along Interstate 95, but Selma. Alabama, on the crossroads of history. Our reading this morning was on the theme of white shame which at a deep level is related to the Selma events, as I will seek to show. Let me start at the beginning. Was there some time in our lives when weas children, teenagers, or adults caved in to outside pressures? Did we go along with the prejudices or compromises of members of our family, our peers, white society at large, resulting in white shame? Chances are the answer is yes. When we were socialized into becoming white, rather than experience ourselves as members of the one human race, we entered a realm of dark shadows. White is not the color of purity anymore, as in a wedding gown. Nowadays white often symbolizes the white man's burden of prejudice and ill-will, discrimination and exploitation of people of color. It is surprising though, is it not? that white shame is not part of our everyday language and self-understanding. We are familiar with Black and Jewish shame. Generations of Black people have internalized the low opinion society has had of them. Black pride is a relatively recent phenomenon. We know of Jewish self-hatred, Jews sick of being mistreated, trying to fit into Gentile society and abandon their roots, but white shame, what is it? Thandeka, professor at Meadville Theological School in Chicago and author of "Learning to be White" believes that white shame results from feeling "that something is wrong with one' s identity", not being at home in one's own white community. As a denomination, we are generally proud of our somewhat illustrious heritage. Our record in race relations may be better than most, yet there is no question that it took us too much time to disassociate ourselves from the prevailing cultural climate and fully awaken to the evils of racism. For example, voter registration drives in the U.S. started in 1952, but it is only in the sixties that as a religious body we started to participate ina the struggle. We became deeply involved only when one of our own ministers, the Reverend Jim Reeb,was brutally assaulted and killed in Selma. Having gone along with the white power structure, not wanting to rock the boat, fearful of being out of tune with the customs of the land, white shamfinally propelled us to the Selma confrontation, which in turn led to the enactment of civil rights laws. In Selma, at last, we found our true voice. Some five hundred Unitarian Universalists flocked to Selma, about one third of them ministers. After many years of not so benign neglect, Selma became our finest hour. How did I happen to go? As I watched on TV the scenes of the Alabama National Guard on horseback mercilessly beating non-violent demonstrators, I was reminded of Nazi storm troopers in my youth. I was twelve years old when Hitler invaded Austria. At the time I was powerless. Here in Selma I could take my stand. For the rest of my life, I became an activist for civil and human rights. Out of my Selma experience, I realized how crucially important it is to be faithful to one's authentic, deepest values. Most people who went to Selma stayed in what was called the Brown Chapel compound, but I roomed with John Wells, a Unitarian Universalist minister from Reston, VA at the home of a black couple, that gave us warm hospitality and bountiful breakfasts. John had rented a car with an Alabama license plate, hence was able to circulate freely in the community without raising suspicions by rednecks on the prowl . The day before leaving for Selma, Reverend Wells and three clergy of different faiths were able to arrange a meeting with President Johnson. It must have felt like a far shot to get a hearing from a busy President in a time of national crisis, but lo and behold, they were ushered into the Oval Office. They presented their motivation for going to Selma, asked President Johnson to take steps to protect the civil rights protesters, and to work on behalf of enacting civil rights legislation. President Johnson was poker-faced, gave no indication as to where he stood. A few days later, as we watched Johnson's historic speech, John Wells repeatedly interrupted with "Oh, that is what I or so-and-so said to the President." Though seemingly detached, Johnson had listened carefully and came through. Among the many lessons that can be drawn from the Selma confrontation, I find confirmation of the old Quaker saying "Speak truth to power." People and institutions may find themselves in a rut, at opposite poles from what you believe. That is not a sufficient reason to despair and give up. There is always a chance that people in power change their minds. Openness and perseverance in our efforts are important ingredients of eventual success. Of course, we must not be naive. We need to be well prepared and properly organized. It is not generally known or appreciated that for a full year before Selma erupted into a full-blown national crisis, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had sent one of his chief lieutenants to Selma to recruit people and train them in non-violent action. Selma was not just a spontaneous explosion, it was well planned. Selma became a personal turning point for me. I had graduated from theological school a mere three years earlier. I was still somewhat unsure whether I had embarked upon the right vocation. In Selma I witnessed Dr. King in action, a shining example of what ministers at their best could evoke and accomplish. Selma became my encounter with destiny. During my stay in Selma, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, SCLC for short, asked for a permit to march to Selma City Hall in honor of our fallen heroes, Jimmy Lee Jackson and James Reeb. The request was turned down. Marching would be risking arrest or worse, another bloody Sunday. Putting a live conscience above formal law, the SCLC decided that we ought to march anyway. An announcement came over the Brown Chapel loudspeaker: "Assemble to march, clergy in the front lines." For me it was an existential moment. Should I follow the summons or simply be part of theanonymous crowd? I remember vividly retreating into a corner of the chapel to consult with myself. My reason said no to taking extra risks. I was newly married and new as minister of the Universalist Church of the Restoration.
37 years later, I returned to Alabama to attend a continent-wide convocation of our clergy. From Birmingham, a number of us took a side-trip to Selma, to see how things had changed. The city now has a Black mayor and a Black sheriff. African Americans have the right to vote. Selma has created a fine museum of civil rights history. In neighboring Lowndes County, a monument has been erected to commemorate Viola Liuzzo at a location where she had been shot dead by local Klan members, with some assist by the FBI.
Summing it all up, the Selma confrontation can be seen as a historic victory, but an incomplete one. A lot of difficult work still lies ahead, in the North as well as in the South. If we are to transform the American dream into reality, we dare not rest on the laurels of Selma. Masses of people continue to suffer from a lack of opportunity. Affirmative action is under attack. Education is being re-segregated. Sunday morning is still the most segregated hour in the nation. Racial profiling in criminal justice has not been eliminated. As I walk in the sand near my condo on Atlantic Beach, I cannot help but notice an over-sized Confederate flag. As we face perennial problems of justice, civil rights, and peace, may we be as courageous now as the Black people of Selma and their white supporters were some four decades ago. May it be so. |