Finding a cure for America's most segregated hour

When you’re talking about race, things are never as simple as black and white. Take churches, for example.

Without question, congregations of all denominations — on both sides of the so-called “color line” — have had a lot to do with the gradual desegregation of America. At the same time, however, the statement that “11 o’clock on Sunday morning is still the most segregated hour in the country” has a ring of truth to it.

We would never refer to “black restaurants” or “white restaurants,” but we don’t think twice about applying the same adjectives to churches. That was one of the main topics of discussion Thursday at the Faith-Based Action Group Clergy Breakfast at Lynchburg General Hospital.

The theme of the event was “Building Bridges: Let the Conversation Begin.” Actually, it already has — this was an outgrowth of and sequel to last year’s community-wide racial dialogue.

But there’s a built-in paradox to opening a “racial dialogue.” In a perfect world (which is what ministers, of all people, should be aspiring to) skin color and ethnicity wouldn’t matter. Yet by throwing groups of people together specifically to talk about race, you’re acknowledging that these things do matter, and inviting the proverbial elephant to squat in the center of the room.

To the Rev. L.M. Mitchell of Greater Brookville Church on Florida Avenue, it’s all about “getting in the flow. Meet me in my natural place, and I’ll do the same.”

Build houses together. Deliver food baskets together. Play sports together. From those experiences comes the essential understanding: “Hey, those people are just like me.”

Some Lynchburg black and white churches have exchanged pastors on special Sundays, which is nice. The problem with that is, the respective congregations tend to stay put, so they still don’t interact with each other.

Much of that is tradition. People tend to go to the same churches their parents and grandparents attended, and that points a straight line back to the segregation days. Neighborhoods are becoming more diverse with time, but my guess is that black kids and white kids tend to sit together in school cafeterias not because of their ethnicity, but because these are the people they grew up with.

Last Thursday, a sizable group in the First Colony conference room divided itself into tables. By pure accident, my table was split down the middle on racial lines — three and three. Overall, in the greater group, you could feel the love. Everyone who spoke was preaching to the choir, and the choir included everyone else.

Which raised the question, in my mind at least, what are we trying to accomplish here?

If we’re trying to completely purge the world of racism, that isn’t going to happen any time soon. The big change that’s already happened, though, is that racism is no longer accepted. First, government turned its back on the more virulent bigots, and then society as a whole did.

The white men in Texas who dragged a black man to his death behind a pickup truck a few years ago got the death penalty. In 1960s Mississippi, they might have gotten a handshake from the sheriff.

It’s not cool any more to be George Wallace, a fact that even Wallace grew to realize. Or, for that matter, Louis Farrakhan. The fire that was racial hatred in America is mostly out. Now, the job is to look for the occasional “hot spots” that could cause it to flare up again.

Taking people as they are, regardless of color, is natural. Failing to do that is what’s unnatural — out of the flow, as Rev. Mitchell might say.