Black Suffering: Silent Pain, Hidden Hope (James Henry Harris) -- A Review
BLACK SUFFERING: Silent Pain, Hidden Hope. By James Henry Harris. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2020. Xii + 250 pages.
I
remember the conversation clearly. It was the first quarter of my seminary
career. The class was American Protestant Theology. Each of us was charged with
making a presentation of our research paper to the class. I don't remember what
I presented, but my African American colleague presented on Black theology;
specifically the work of James Cone. Having grown up in Oregon, which is a
rather white state, I was not well acquainted with the realities of the Black
experience in America. So, I was a bit shocked when my colleague calmly told the
rest of us, most of whom were White, that unless is Black, one cannot truly
understand the black experience. In my naivete, I wanted to push back. I might
be White, but surely I can understand Black theology, at least intellectually.
Over time, I've learned that having an intellectual grasp of a particular form
of theology is not the same thing as truly understanding the experience of
another and how that experience is expressed theologically. I can listen and I
can learn, but I’ll always remain a step removed from the true meaning of this
theology.
I offer
this autobiographical statement as a prelude to presenting my review of James
Henry Harris's Black Suffering: Silent Pain, Hidden Hope. Writing as a White
male who has not experienced life as he has lived it, I must attend to his
words with humility and respect. Harris is the pastor of Second Baptist Church
of Richmond, Virginia, and Distinguished Professor of Homiletics and Pastoral
Theology at the Samuel DeWitt Proctor School of Theology, Virginia Union
University. He is the author of Beyond the Tyranny of the Text, a book I
reviewed here on my blog.
Harris uses
a combination of short stories, sermons, and autobiographical elements to share
the reality of Black suffering. If you are White, like me, you will be
uncomfortable. That is by design. While you may want to push back, it is best
to listen carefully so that a degree of understanding may be gained. Interestingly,
Harris points out that folks in the Black and Brown communities, the people who
inhabit the pews of the congregation to which he preaches, don't necessarily
want to hear about their suffering either. At least, not in church. Nevertheless,
Harris believes that not only do White folks need to hear this message, so do
the people in the pews of the church to which he preaches. Therefore, what he
offers us is what he calls a "mixtape" of Black suffering.
Black Suffering is envisioned as a call to consciousness. It is, Harris suggests,
"a call to wake up from our slumber and challenge the world to take its
feet off the necks, backs, and rib cages of black folk." (p. 7). As we
move through the book, we hear descriptions of Black suffering, including stories
of lynchings. We also encounter stories of those who have suffered. We also
hear about those who have engaged in consciousness-raising among people Black
and White. Thus, we find chapters that reflect on the life and message of
important Black figures including W.E.B. DuBois, Nat Turner, Toni Morrison, and
yes, James Cone. While much of the book focuses on suffering and oppression,
Harris doesn’t want to leave the reader without some word of hope. That hope is
to be found, Harris believes, in the Black church. That is if it is willing to face
the realities of life as it is currently lived within the Black community.
One of
the messages heard in this book is Harris's concern that too many participants in
the Black church do not wish to hear messages about social justice. They just
want to come and worship, so as to escape the realities of the world outside. While
Harris understands this desire to escape for a few moments, he also believes
that it’s not an option. Thus, preaching becomes for him silent suffering. For
those of us who serve progressive white churches, we must hear this. We may
enjoy being prophetic, but we generally preach to a choir made up of people who
don’t fear the realities faced by persons of color. When I am pulled over by
the police, I may fear getting a ticket, but not losing my life. I never had to
give the “talk” to my son after he learned to drive. So, if you are like me, a
White preacher, it’s important to remember that when we speak on matters of racial
justice, our audience might be sympathetic to the cause but not have to worry
about having to suffer. For many of us social justice is a cause to embrace,
but not one that affects one's daily life.
While
the overriding message of the book is the need to raise the consciousness of Black
suffering, the hidden hope of Harris’ message is to be found in the liberating
message of Jesus. Following James Cone, Harris speaks of Jesus’ death on the
lynching tree. Harris writes in the concluding paragraph of Black Suffering that
"just as Jesus exposed the truth and disrupted the norms of the oppressive
and unjust status quo of first-century Palestine, Black people must continue to
struggle against suffering in order to disrupt the same oppressive and unjust
cultural structures in America." (p. 234).
Comments