"ON VOTING"

“ON VOTING”

            Caroline and I are in Louisville, attending an anti-white supremacy, anti-racism gathering sponsored by our Presbyterian denomination PCUSA, whose headquarters are in Louisville.  I won’t have time to write this week’s blog, but I am posting, with Susan’s permission, our daughter’s fine FaceBook post in 2014 about my mother and her commitment to voting.  I must confess here that I violated our family commitment to voting in my very first year of eligibility in 1968.  I had worked hard for Eugene McCarthy and felt like he was cheated out of the Democratic party’s nomination for President.  So, in my bitterness, I joined many other young, white people in refusing to vote for anyone so that we could protest the corruption of the system.  Does this sound familiar for 2016?  In 1968, I wrote in my friend David Billings’ name for president rather than holding my nose and voting for Hubert Humphrey.  The result was a narrow victory for Richard Nixon.  Nixon’s victory began the long, white male reaction to the civil rights movement and to the women’s movement, which has now culminated (I hope) in the election of Donald Trump.  I chastised myself greatly after that, and I have voted in every election since then.  Here is Susan’s post about my mother and the importance of voting.  As you read it, remember the power that we voters have in our hands, and please don’t be an ass like me and skip voting this fall.

            “Since we are still near Day of the Dead, here is a Voting Day story about my grandma, Mary Stroupe, who died almost exactly 10 years ago: after working for many years as a hairdresser and beautician in Helena, Arkansas, and raising my father as a single mother in the 1950s and 60s, she retired from being a practitioner to teaching at the local community college. The majority of her students were black--men and women who were working toward their beauticians' licenses. My grandma was a product of her time--raised in an entrenched and (to her) unnoticeable segregation that firmly defined which races of people were worth more than others. My father was also raised in this system, but as he came of age, his mind was transformed toward justice, and my grandma, because of her own intelligence, her devotion to my father, and a friendship with a black woman who was her peer and fellow teacher at the community college (Jessie Weston) began to change as well. Grandma was insanely stubborn: a trait which allowed her to be a single mother, and a trait which also served her students in community who would rather conserve the ways of fearful separation than become vulnerable to change. 

            On every election day, my grandma would only let in students who brought proof that they had voted before coming to class. In her early years of doing this, she had students come in saying they were being prevented from voting by election officials. The story goes that Grandma stopped class and led all of her students and her five-feet-on-a-good-day self over to the polling place, demanding of the men blocking the door that her students be let in to vote, as was their constitutional right. They relented, and her students voted.

            So I have my sticker, and I think of my grandma. I also think of my great-grandmother on my mom's side, whom I never knew, but am told that although she did not support women getting the vote in 1920, after the amendment was passed, she voted in every election until her death in 1979. We don't take enfranchisement lightly in this family.”

"THE OPPOSITE OF POVERTY IS NOT WEALTH...."

“THE OPPOSITE OF POVERTY IS NOT WEALTH…”

            Caroline and I are on a trip to visit our long-time friends, David Billings and Margery Freeman, in McComb, Mississippi, traveling through Alabama.  Though these were not states when the Constitution was adopted, this is the land of the original “originalists.”  One of the central dynamics of the Constitution was to preserve privileged, white male power.  There is no mention of the rights of women.  African-Americans and Native Americans are deemed to be only 60 % human.

            I thought about this a lot as we visited the National Memorial for Peace and Justice and the Legacy Museum in Montgomery.  They are the work of the Equal Justice Initiative and are powerful testimony to the past and current injustice and inequities in American history.   The National Memorial is an artistic rendering of the terror and power of lynching in American history.  Sculptures hang down, representing people lynched.  The initial sculptures are by counties, and there is seemingly no pattern to them.  I kept wanting to put them by states, but it was chaotic and unpatterned.  It took me awhile to allow the art to penetrate my senses.  The purpose of these initial pieces of art is to give us a feeling of chaos, of terror, of inability to know when or where the next lynching is coming.  It is a reminder that for those classified as “black” in US history, lynching is always on the table, no matter the locale, no matter the time, no matter the economic status.  

            I was looking for one particular sculpture, that of Phillips County, Arkansas – my home county.  There, in and around Elaine, Arkansas, over 230 African-American people were lynched in two days’ time, in 1919, the largest number of African-Americans killed in lynchings in US history.  On the second turn, I found it, and it was depressing and sobering and angering and defeating.  Some of my forebears were in on that.  They may not have participated in it.  In fact, I am assuming that they did not, but I do not know.  I never knew the magnitude of the executions, and I never thought to ask my mother or other relatives – it was taboo.  Yet, whether they pulled the triggers or not, they supported it.  Difficult stuff.

            After the initial round of sculptures, we finally came to the state groupings, and there were many more in Arkansas counties than I had previously thought.  For some reason (actually I know the reason), I thought the lynchings were confined to the Deep South east of the Mississippi River and to the River Delta on the Arkansas side where I grew up.  After that, the staff invited us to climb the small incline to view all the monuments.  The purpose of the viewing was to allow the spirits of those people who were lynched to cry out to the perpetrators, and it was a powerful time to listen to the voices.

            Next we went to the Legacy Museum, which proclaimed to us that lynching was still with us, that it had now evolved to DWB, police brutality, mass incarceration, skewed income tax tables and deductions, red-lining, destabilizing of the public school system, and many other forms of the racism that has informed our national heritage since its beginnings.   I was struck by many things in this exhibit – one was the jars of dirt collected from some of the known sights of lynchings.  Another was an announcement in the Hattiesburg paper in June, 1915, that John Hartfield would be lynched the next day – no spontaneous anger here, but rather an announcement of a murder to come.  Many brought picnics to watch, and many sold picture postcards afterward – almost 10,000 people gathered to watch a man murdered.  So, for those who feel that our national love of violence is a new thing, please hear that it is in our marrow and DNA.

            Bryan Stevenson, the person behind these profound exhibits put it this way:  “The opposite of poverty is not wealth.  The opposite of poverty is justice.”  Wherever we are, whatever we are, let us recall these words.  Let us recall the idea of equity and equality that is part of our national heritage, an idea that so often loses out to racism and sexism and materialism.   We have three weeks left to make some small movement back towards equity and equality -  please, please vote, and make sure that your friends, colleagues and neighbors vote.   

 Because this is what looms over us:  for those who think that this is only ancient history, please note that Gorsuch and Kavanaugh join Alioto and Thomas as “originalists” on the Supreme Court, with Roberts now being the swing vote.  That is a scary thought!

            The voices of the people who have been lynched - and who will be lynched – now cry out to us.  Let us hear and act in behalf of their humanity and of our own.  It won’t end with the election, of course, but it will be a start back towards justice. 

"A REAL MAN"

“A REAL MAN”

            Last week I looked at Courageous Mary and her taking some ownership of her sexuality in the Biblical accounts of the birth of Jesus.  As courageous as she was in Luke 1, she still faced the death penalty because she was pregnant by someone other than her fiancé.  Her fate remained in the hands of the patriarchy, of the toxic masculinity system.  Indeed, her fate rested in the hands of one man, her fiancé Joseph.  In this past weekend’s re-affirmation of toxic masculinity in the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh to be a Supreme Court justice, let us look at what the Bible tells us about a real man, a non-toxic man.

            We do not have a Biblical account of Mary’s telling Joseph about her being pregnant by someone other than him, and her telling him that the “someone” is not a human being.  Here, Joseph enters the story – not in Luke, interestingly enough.  For Joseph’s point of view, we must turn to Matthew’s Gospel.  Matthew has given us a clue that he may not be totally bound to male domination, because in his genealogy of Jesus, he breaks with patriarchy and lists five women in the genealogy.  And, from the patriarchal point of view, these five women are troublesome – a woman who learns how to survive in the patriarchal world (Tamar), an enterprising and independent businesswoman, (Rahab), a foreign immigrant (Ruth), a woman forced to commit adultery by King David (unnamed in Matthew and called “the wife of Uriah” –Bathsheba was her name), and this courageous young woman named Mary. 

            Joseph comes to present his case, as did Brett Kavanaugh.  Whereas Kavanaugh brought all the signs of toxic masculinity to the table – belligerence, accusations, resentment, threats – Joseph does not.  Make no mistake – Joseph belongs to patriarchy, but his momma and his daddy (and God) have taught him a different slant.  Rather than putting his male resentment at the center, as is his right under patriarchy, he chooses not to call Mary before the elders in order to stone her to death.  He decides to divorce her and “dismiss her quietly.”  “Dismiss her quietly” is the liberal term for the death penalty in slow motion – Mary, disgraced because she sought a bit of control over her sexuality, will likely hit the streets and earn money any way that she can. 

            In Matthew’s account, Joseph is able to present authentic masculinity, not toxic masculinity, to Courageous Mary.   He is able to do this because he was open to perceiving God’s vision for him and for Courageous Mary and for the baby he would claim as his own, Black Jesus.  An angel (unnamed) appears to him in a dream and tells him that rather than dismissing Mary quietly in the realm of toxic masculinity, he should move from the center of life to the margins of life to join Courageous Mary and his child-to-be.  Joseph is a dreamer – he’ll have two more life-saving visions in Matthew (sounding like another dreamer named Joseph in the Hebrew Scriptures).  Perhaps this search for visions is what saves him from the toxic masculinity of Brett Kavanaugh and many others – he could “see” further and deeper than many of us.  So he takes a chance on love and says “yes” to Courageous Mary and to God.  He moves with Mary to the margins, but he uses his masculine power to protect her, not attack her.  Protect her from the elders, protect her from the death penalty, protect her from the government soldiers who search for her baby to kill him. 

            Wonder where black Jesus got his authentic, non-toxic masculinity?  From Courageous Mary, and now from a real man named Joseph.  Want to know what a real man looks like?  Don’t look at Brett Kavanaugh or Donald Trump or Mitch McConnell or Lindsay Graham – they are distortions of masculinity, toxic men.  Look at Joseph and at Jesus, and look at others.  I’m hoping that you know some in your life, real men who are nurturing, loving, protecting, willing to be at the margins of patriarchy.  The next step?  Thank the real men in your life, and then plan to vote for candidates on November 6 who are courageous like Mary and Joseph.  We need them in leadership so badly right now!

"COURAGEOUS WOMEN AND REAL MEN"

“COURAGEOUS WOMEN AND REAL MEN”

            As we wait on the FBI report on Brett Kavanaugh’s suitability as a Supreme Court justice,  I’ve been wondering what Courageous Mary (also known in the church as the Virgin Mary) thought about the Senate confirmation hearing of September 27, where Dr. Christine Blasy Ford gave powerful testimony about being sexually assaulted by Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh.  I was struck by the fact that so many commentators thought that she made a credible and compelling case – what did they expect her to do?  It sounds as if the underlying assumption was that she would not be credible, and she amazed people when she was.   So, we should pause right here to emphasize the context in which she testified – the assumption is that women will not make credible witnesses when they give such testimony.   That is a sad but true fact that the Trump era understands better than we progressives do:  women will not be believed.  I give thanks to Dr. Ford whose testimony was so powerful – even the white, male patriarchal Republicans were afraid of her!  That’s why Kavanaugh was so vociferous in his testimony – patriarchy had been exposed, and he (and we white males) are not accustomed to being held accountable by women and people of color.

            I mention Courageous Mary because in the birth stories surrounding Jesus, sexuality is at the center.  We often skip over that part, but in both Matthew and Luke, sexual behavior takes center stage.  This week we’ll look at Mary’s story and next week at Joseph’s story in this land of patriarchy and toxic masculinity.  The young Mary faces difficult choices.  She already belongs to Joseph as his property.  Then, a male angel named Gabriel appears to her and asks (demands?) that she allow herself to become impregnated with the Messiah, become impregnated by the male God named Yahweh.  Right away, we are in scary territory.   A new male being wants in her ear (the Word?) or in her vagina to create a baby.  If she says “no,” will God destroy her?  If she says “yes,” then she faces the death penalty.   The decisions over how to be sexual in a patriarchal society are always difficult for women, as we see in these Gospel stories about the conception and birth of Jesus.   Mary chooses to allow herself to become pregnant by Yahweh, and in one way, it is a slap at toxic masculinity.  As Sojourner Truth put it so well 160 years ago, “where did your Christ come from?  God and a woman – man had nothing to do with it.”  Yet, it is like “Sophie’s Choice” – no real way out for Mary.  She still belongs to patriarchy, and it is no wonder that Margaret Atwood chose Mary’s words in Luke 1:38 (“I am the handmaiden of the Lord”) as the title for her book “The Handmaid’s Tale,” about the total patriarchal world that Trump/Grasley/Graham/Cruz/Kavanaugh, et al,  would like to see re-established. 

            In Luke’s account, Joseph is a non-actor in this sexual story until the second chapter.  After Mary agrees to become pregnant via God, she doesn’t go to Joseph – rather she goes to the sisterhood, to the community, for support.  She goes to her cousin Elizabeth, miraculously pregnant with John the Baptizer.  I say “miraculously” because in a patriarchal society, her lack of children is blamed on her, not on her husband Zechariah.  Her value in the patriarchal world, as in “The Handmaid’s Tale,” has gone up because she is pregnant.  Yet for all the toxic masculinity flowing through this story, the real miracle is that Mary finds strength with her sister, finds strength to be at the margins.   

     She has been at the margins all her life as a woman in a male-dominated world, but now she begins to perceive the possibility of life there – she even praises life at the margins, in a way that should shock all of us in middle and upper middle class American life:  “ the Mighty One has done great things for me….God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;  God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:49-53).  Right away we see what kinds of things that Mary will be teaching her son – Black Jesus’ emphasis on God’s preference for the poor and marginalized came via his momma, who came to be called the Virgin Mary, but should be called the Courageous Mary.   But, at this point in the story, it is not clear if Mary will have an opportunity to teach anything to her baby – she still faces the death penalty for becoming pregnant by someone other than her fiancé.  Courageous Mary (and so is Dr. Ford and so many others) is necessary, but so is non-toxic masculinity, and next week, we’ll look at that. 

SETTING THE WHITE MAN FREE: THOUGHTS ON A LIFETIME OF LIBERATION WORK"

“SETTING THE WHITE MAN FREE: THOUGHTS ON A LIFETIME OF LIBERATION WORK”

Caroline and I have been up in Cloudland Canyon this weekend doing a wedding there, and my long-time friend David Billings kindly consented to write this week’s blog.   If you have not yet read his 2016 book “Deep Denial,” please get it somewhere and read it – it is one of the best books on the continuing power of racism and the white denial of it.  His blog is below.

Title: Setting The White Man Free: Thoughts on a Lifetime of Liberation Work by David Billings,  Author of Deep Denial: The Persistence of White Supremacy in United States History and Life (2016)

When Nibs asked me to write something for his blog, my first thought was "Do I write something from our shared childhood or something about the current state

of things in our nation?"  "How about both?"

Nibs is undoubtedly, in my mind, one of the great theologians of our day or any day for that matter. This is in spite of his not being as well-known as he should be and amid the rapid secularization in the society. At least among predominantly well-educated, middle class white and black people, Oakhurst is now an oasis for persons across the many national divides, not all of whom are Christians.

Nibs Stroupe has been an outstanding pastor along with his co-pastor, the Rev. Caroline Leach for close to 40 years, until they retired -- three years ago for Caroline and last year for Nibs. They led Oakhurst Presbyterian Church in Decatur, Ga. for nearly four decades and modeled for the 21st century what a church committed to tearing down the walls of white supremacy and white male dominance looks like.  Oakhurst was slated for extinction when they arrived in 1983; they bequeathed to the community new leadership a healthy and vibrant congregation.

Why do I say Stroupe is one of the great theologians of our day? Because in our race-constructed nation where everything is about race and everything is impacted by race, Stroupe always brings it up. He doesn't just speak about race and racism when that is his subject, but he speaks to race because in our nation nothing is race-neutral. There are racial dynamics in every happenstance of life, public and personal. His ability to see and name how racism pervades our everyday events, activities, and thoughts is rare. There are a growing number of white people who are striving to understand white supremacy, but few of us name racism if it is not our subject or focus. But Stroupe does and that makes him unique, certainly among white Christian pastors.

Nibs is also relentless in calling out sexism and misogyny. Heavily influenced and tutored by Caroline Leach in this, he is again intent on bringing it up even when society is loathe to do so.

It is this twin approach to liberation ministry that recently led the two to be recognized by the Presbyterian Church, USA with their Human Rights Award for their Lifetime service to the church.

What their ministry teaches us is when we emulate people like Nibs and Caroline, and when we identify the everyday racism and misogyny all around us, we will be ready to transform ourselves, our churches and the other institutions to which we give our allegiance. 

But, I mentioned in my opening paragraph that Nibs and I grew up together.  We lived in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, in Helena, Arkansas. We both pursued a ministry that focused on a Christ-centered, anti-racist theology and methodology. Both of us preached liberation, understanding the complicity of the church in others' oppression and our role in it. Nibs and I -- full of hubris, but also passion -- sought redemption through scripture.  That led us to action that was about breaking the taboos of race and gender we were brought up with and nurtured by. We didn't always succeed in this, but we persevered nonetheless.

When we were entering our teens, Nibs and I thought of ourselves as budding theologians. We went to our local pastors asking them to tell us when did Jesus first realized that he was destined to be the Messiah. (I mentioned hubris, didn't I?). They suggested we should pursue more normal teenage interests such as baseball or comic books. Instead, we rowed out onto Moon Lake (between Helena and the Mississippi River) to continue our quest on determining the “Messianic Consciousness of Jesus.”  I don’t think that we ever answered that one!

A short time later, Nibs introduced me to the concept of "house church" and invited me to join him at a meeting of laity (Episcopalian in this instance) who were discussing The Late Liz, a book about the conversion of a former prostitute now turned Christian. In one of these share groups, I offered my definition of  "grace." The next week, I learned that when Nibs' mother, Mary Stroupe, heard someone quote my definition in her beauty salon, she burst out laughing.  Mrs. Stroupe did not suffer fools.  Her response provoked a mini-crisis of faith in both of us. I can still hear her laugh.

I could tell more. I like to think these adventures led Nibs to be the person he is today.  I also hope someone out there writes his story and gives him his due. Maybe a history that gives Caroline and Nibs their deserved place in our history.

"DAYS OF MY LIFE"

“THE DAYS OF MY LIFE”

            Last week I wrote brief synopses of what Caroline and Fahed Abu-Akel shared of their journeys at the Church Women United Luncheon where we all were honored with their Human Rights Award on September 8.  I noted that their perspective came from those who are oppressed – Caroline as a woman, Fahed as an Arab Christian.  Today I’ll share part of what I shared of my story at the CWU Luncheon.  I come from the perspective of the white male, of the oppressor.  While they had neighbors and interventionists help them recognize their captivity to internalized oppression, God sent similar folks to me to help me recognize my internalized superiority.  This is some of what I shared.

            I grew up in the white, segregated South – segregated schools, segregated churches, segregated everything.  I was taught the love and grace of God by wonderful white people, including my spectacular mom, who raised me as a single, working, poor mother.  All of these white people also taught me captivity to what the Bible calls “the Powers,” systemic things like racism and sexism and materialism and homophobia and militarism.  [At this point, I got many more “Amens” from the mostly black women CWU gathering than I wanted!!!}  I believed that white people were superior, that men should dominate women, that money brings life, that LGBTQ people were not human like me, and that redemptive violence brought peace.  They taught me well – it wasn’t that I believed in equality and was in rebellion – I believed that white supremacy was true, was God’s will.

            Fortunately for me, I was blessed to have God send people to be neighbors to me, to intervene in my life and to reveal my captivity to me, so that I could begin to see this whole new world that God is calling into being.  There are too many of those people to name, but some of them are in this room today, and I thank you!

            It reminds me of the passage in Matt 15:21-28, where Jesus encounters a Palestinian woman.  Now, I’m no Jesus, but I understand this story very well.  Jesus is tired, and he’s a Jewish man, and this Palestinian woman is not in his circle.  But she bugs him and begs him to heal her daughter.  But, Jesus ends up calling her a dog and telling her that she is not worthy of being with the Jews.  She then stuns Jesus by saying: “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the Master’s table.”  She reminds Jesus that she’s in the house!  Though Jesus doesn’t think so, she BELONGS to the household of God.

            God sent this woman as neighbor to Jesus, to let him know that his mission was deeper and wider than even He thought it was – AND, it worked!  By the end of Matthew’s Gospel, when the Resurrected Jesus sends out his disciples before he leaves, he doesn’t tell them to go only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Rather, he tells them to go to everybody, to go to the entire world to proclaim this widening, inclusive, justice-seeking, love-bearing Beloved Community of God.

            And that’s how it works – we’re asked to be neighbors and interventionists with one another.  AND to listen when God sends neighbors to intervene in our lives.  To speak up and act up for justice, to seek equity and equality, and to remain humble in our approach, because we all have captivity to the powers in us – there are no exceptions.  We need people to intervene in our lives.

            I thank Church Women United for being some of those neighbors, some of those interventionists, for your continuing witness over these years.  I thank all of the neighbors God has sent to intervene in my life and who God will continue to send.  We are called to share with one another, bear with one another, love one another, challenge one another, support one another – that’s who we are, and that’s what brings us together today.  Thank you!

            So, let us reflect on this need for neighbors and interventionists in our lives.  Let us give thanks for our journeys and for those who have nurtured in us the idea that we are children of God, rather than children of the Powers of the world.  And let us resolve to be witnesses to one another in that way.  Speaking of that kind of witness, here’s a reminder of how the Powers work when we are not able to do what we need to do as neighbors and interventionists.  This past Saturday, September 15, was the 55^th anniversary of Birmingham Sunday, when white men planted dynamite in Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, and when it exploded, 4 little girls going to Sunday school were killed.  Rhiannon Giddens has a great cover of the song that Richard Farina wrote about that killing, and here’s the link to it:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_T5KlTpvoM&feature=youtu.be

"THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES"

“THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES”

            Caroline and I were blessed to join former PCUSA Moderator, the Reverend Fahed Abu-Akel,  as recipients of the Atlanta Church Women United’s Human Rights Award for 2018.  The luncheon was Saturday, and we were graced to see old friends and witnesses, especially a great turnout from Oakhurst Presbyterian Church.  We were asked to reflect on our life’s journey and on the people who had brought us to this place – all in 5 minutes!  An impossible task, obviously, but it was a time to think about all of those people who had brought us to where we are today.  For that opportunity, we were all grateful.

            We three came at the task from different perspectives.  Fahed and Caroline came from the perspective of those who experienced oppression and injustice in many forms.  Their reflections named those people who had helped them move away from the definitions of internalized oppression and towards the definition that they were children of God.  My reflections came from the perspective of the oppressor, the white male, and my stories named people who had intervened in my life, who had helped me by being neighbors to me, who had challenged me and deepened me.  These neighbors helped me to hear that my internalized oppression of superiority was harmful to me and to others.  I’ll share more of my journey on that in the next blog.  Today, I want to share Fahed’s and Caroline’s perspectives and encourage us all to think about our own journeys and about the witnesses in our lives.

            Both of their stories are always powerful.  Fahed was a young boy, living in his Palestinian, Christian home in 1948 when the “Nakba” struck, when Israel, backed by Western allies, forced over 700,000 Palestinians to abandon their homes and their lands so that Israel could establish itself as a nation after the Holocaust of World War II.  The 70^th anniversary of al-Nakba, the Arab word for “catastrophe,” was May 15 of this year.  Fahed and his family were among those forced to leave and  to live a marginalized existence in a mountain refugee camp, with no compensation for their home or their land.  Eventually he made it to the USA as a young adult, and through the generosity of many people, he went to college and then to Columbia Seminary.  All through that time, he astonished people when they discovered that he was Christian, not Muslim.  He was elected as the first Arab-American Moderator of the Presbyterian Church in the United States in 2002.  He recalled being part of the program for the annual Martin Luther King, Jr., Celebration in the next year, and he was introduced as a Muslim minister.  With his Arabic name, no one could believe that he was Christian.  He reminded us all of the powerful witnesses in his life, including his mother, who helped him to hear that while the West told him that he was a Muslim terrorist, his definition was much deeper and broader – he is a child of God.  He continues to speak out against the injustice of Israel and the West toward his Palestinian people.

            Caroline was the 21^st woman ordained to the pastoral ministry in the former southern Presbyterian church.  She shared her journey of the obstacles that she had faced and of those who helped her to hear that her primary definition was not property of men but rather daughter of God.  She grew up in Central Presbyterian Church in Chattanooga, where her mother had grown up.  She and her family were faithful and loyal members, and Caroline did so many duties in the church.  When she decided to go to seminary and went to the church board (known as The Session in the Presbyterian Church) to receive their blessing as a seminary student, they turned her down because they did not believe that women should be ministers.   She joined another “Central” Church, this one in Atlanta under the leadership of Randy Taylor, and they welcomed her as a candidate for the ministry with open arms.  When she arrived at Columbia Seminary as one of five women students, many male students met her and read passages from the Bible, telling her that she could not become a pastor.  When she graduated from seminary, no churches would consider calling her as a pastor, but she gave thanks that Woody McKay called her as associate campus minister at Georgia Tech.  So many obstacles, but so many women and men who helped her get over those obstacles!

            Our perspective obviously makes a difference –next week I’ll look a bit at mine as white male.  For now, be thinking about your journey, about whether you have internalized superiority or have internalized inferiority.  And, be remembering and giving thanks for all those who helped you (and continue to help you) find your true self.