The Sin of Racism

Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Matthew 28:16-20

I remember the first time I became conscious that people saw me differently. because of the way I look. I was actually an adult, which already makes me more privileged than most people of colour, who have experienced this since they were children. But in any case, what I remember was being asked, in a seminary-related interview, “What was it like growing up in an ethnic household?” Now I was confused, because I’d never actually heard “ethnic household” before. And since it was an American asking me, I said, “Oh, Canada’s pretty much the same as the United States.” And the interviewer said, “No, I mean Japanese.” And I sat there kind of stunned. I had never before been identified as “ethnic.” I knew the word, I knew about “ethnic cleansing,” I knew about the “ethnic vote,” as Jaques Parizeau said after the ’95 Quebec referendum. But I didn’t know that *I* was ethnic. And I stumbled through the rest of the interview, talking about eating Japanese food and celebrating Christmas, but from that moment on, I never stopped being aware that, at least in the North American Lutheran world, I don’t look like everyone else.

Now, that was more than twenty years ago. And in the States. But my most recent memory of being treated differently because of the way I look was last year, here in Calgary. I had to do a funeral at a funeral home. And I got there early, as I always do, in my black suit, wearing my collar, and carrying my alb. And I walked into the building, and one of the staff came up to me, and I said, “I’m here for the funeral.” And the staff person did a double-take, and said, “Which funeral?” Which was a bit odd, because there was only one, but I said the name, and this person said, “Just a minute, I have to go check with the director.” Which never happens. Every single other funeral, I walk in the door, and the staff immediately show me to the little clergy office and hand me a bulletin and ask me if I need water, and all that stuff. But not this time. And the staff person was gone for a while, and then a second staff person comes out and says, “What’s your name?” And I give it, and they disappear again. And finally, a third staff person comes from somewhere else, and says, “Can I help you?” And I say, “Yes I’m here for the funeral,” and although they give me a look, they show me to the office, and things carry on. Now here’s the thing. I realized later why they reacted that way. There was another pastor, there as a guest, wearing a collar, and he was white. The staff assumed that *he* was there to do the funeral, even though he wasn’t wearing a black suit and he wasn’t carrying an alb and he was already sitting with the other guests. I didn’t *look* like a pastor, let alone a Lutheran pastor, and the staff just couldn’t believe what I was telling them.

Christians are not exempt from racism. Canadian Christians are not exempt from racism. We judge people on the basis of the way they look. And I have it easy, just to be clear. What I experience is nothing compared to the way others in this country are treated. I’m half-white, I was born in this country, I speak English “flawlessly,” my vocabulary reflects my level of education, I know our cultural jokes, my last name is very European. These are all privileges that protect me from the more overt racism that people experience here. If I go missing, the authorities will not wait to alert the public, like they have for thousands of indigenous women and girls. If I get into an elevator and there’s someone already there, I don’t start whistling or humming music or be sure to say a friendly hello to show that I’m harmless, as black men do. I’ve never had to teach my children how to respond to racist comments, either from friends or from complete strangers, like every Canadian parent with children who are not white has had to do. Racism exists in Canada, among Christians.

“Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image. ...’ So God created humankind in God’s image, in the image of God, God created them.” Racism is a sin. It’s a sin, not just against our neighbour, but against God. I don’t know how to make it more clear than this. Sin is turning our back on God. Racism is turning our back on a person made in the image of God, because of the way they look. Do you understand the connection here? The way a person looks is a reflection of the image of God. God is not white. Or rather, God is not only white. God is Asian, and Black, and Brown, and indigenous. When God became human, it was as someone from the Middle East. When we look at someone, and react to them because of the colour of their skin, we are reacting to God. And when our reactions are demeaning, or belittling, or skeptical, that’s how we are reacting to God. When we hear of violence against people whose skin is different than ours, and we wonder, did they deserve it? was this an exception? was there an excuse? were there extenuating circumstance?, then that is how we wonder about violence against God. God created humankind in God’s image. Racism is a sin of the highest order.

And we are all sinners. Didn’t we start our service that way? With a confession that we have sinned against God “in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and what we have left undone?” The alternate version of the confession says, “forgive us our sins, known and unknown.” Christians especially cannot exempt ourselves from this sin. We are in bondage to sin and we cannot free ourselves. We don’t like to think of ourselves as committing racist thoughts, word, or deeds, and it’s likely that nobody here has ever used a racist slur or committed a hate crime against someone because of their skin colour. But what have we left undone? What have we thought or said or done unknowingly? Where has our failure to act or failure to speak been a sin?

I remember the first time that I became conscious that I was treating others differently because of the way they looked. I was an adult, and I was walking through a downtown neighbourhood by myself, and there was a group of three or four black teenage boys walking towards me. And I crossed the street. I have two cousins who are half-Jamaican, who would have been the age these boys were at that time, and *I* crossed the street. I wasn’t thinking “racist thoughts;” my sin, which I committed in “deed,” was unknown to me in the moment I committed it. It was only after I had crossed the street that I realized what I’d done. These boys were not behaving in a threatening manner, I think they were even laughing. But I do know that if they had been white, I would not have crossed the street. But they weren’t, and I did. I sinned.

I confess that there have been times when I have kept my mouth shut when people have said things about blacks, or natives, or Pakis, or Arabs, or Africans, or Mexicans, or immigrants. When I should have defended those people made in the image of God, I left that deed undone. In those moments, I sinned against my neighbour, and against God.

This is how the sin of racism manifests in our daily lives. In reflexive actions, in failures to speak, in hesitating to give the benefit of the doubt, in questioning motives, in making excuses for acts or words of violence or even just plain intolerance committed against someone. It manifests in our acceptance of the treatment of people of colour that is anything less than the way we would treat God in our midst. We all commit this sin. The sin of racism is systemic. We are in bondage to it.

But Christ, God-in-the-flesh, God-in-the-Middle-Eastern-flesh, came to free us from bondage. By dying on the cross for the forgiveness of our sins, yes, but also by sending us the Holy Spirit, who moves among us so that God’s will for equality be done here on earth as in heaven. 

And the Spirit is moving. That uncomfortable feeling you get when you hear a racist joke? That’s the Holy Spirit, calling you to say something. That prick of conscience you get when you see someone not white being treated disrespectfully? That’s the Holy Spirit, calling you to do something. That lingering feeling of guilt you get when you become aware of all the times you’ve subconsciously reacted to someone on the basis of their skin colour? That’s the Holy Spirit, calling you to repent. The growing skepticism you have when people insist that Canadians, or Christians, aren’t racist? That’s the Holy Spirit, calling you to a deeper awareness of our collective sin. And this Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God, the Spirit sent by Jesus Christ, is acting through pricks of conscience, through feelings of guilt, through growing skepticism, through rallies and vigils and protests, through shared videos of police brutality on social media, to commission you to bring about the kingdom of heaven on earth. It may feel overwhelming and scary. But it is, in this time and in this place, how God is calling us proclaim the Good News for all nations, including our own.

Black and indigenous lives matter, because black and indigenous people are made in the image of God, and their lives are under very real, very physical threat. There have been times in our Canadian history when other groups have been under threat, and I’m thinking particularly of our German communities during World War I and in World War II, along with our Japanese communities. Today it is our black and indigenous communities. Every time this happens, we sin against God, especially when we let it continue. But God is working within us to do better, the Spirit is moving to free all people from bondage to this sin, and Christ will be with us always as we resist this hatred together. And so we say, Thanks be to God. Amen.