Jeremiah Wright and the promise of America

The Rev. Jeremiah Wright, long-time pastor of presidential candidate Barack Obama, has caused quite a stir.  Indeed, the last several days have been dominated by vignettes of Wright's more inflammatory sermons. These sermons have been followed by impassioned denouncements and repudiations from all corners.  And, in some cases, rightly so.  Claims, for instance, that the U.S. government conspired to place HIV/AIDS into the black community - absent even a gesture of proof - strike me as irresponsible hyperbole.  And, I certainly would not have wanted to have explained Wright's "Ridin' Dirty" double entendre to my seven-year old son had I visited his church that day.

I suspect, however, that the substance of what Wright said did not offend as much as the fevered pitch of Wright's rhetoric.  It is the way he presented his message, I submit, that caused such a firestorm.  You see, some of what Wright said has historical support.  That the United States government permitted the infusion of heroine into the black community, for example, is no longer in dispute.  Furthermore, Wright's critique of the prison industrial complex was warranted.

But, my point is not to debate the merits of Wright's sermons.  Much of what has been aired is objectionable on several grounds.  This should come as no surprise.  The media, for obvious reasons, selected the most inflammatory vignettes to air.  And, it is certainly fair game to compel Obama to comment on statements made by his pastor of 20 years. 

Rather, my point here is to urge a more nuanced conversation on race in America - a conversation compelled by the Wright imbroglio.  Rev. Wright's sermons and the reaction to them by his congregants (or "flock" as the media keeps repeating in an effort to suggest a cult-like following) reveals that the issue of the color line remains unresolved in America.  The notion of Obama as a post-racial candidate is hopeful indeed.  But the reality is that the country cannot enter a post-racial space until we - all of us - deal with the color line head-on.

The uncomfortable reality made manifest by the video tapes of Wright is that swaths of the African-American public experience America in a radically different way than much of the majority community.  Where the majority community presumes the good faith and good intentions of our government, many black Americans view that same government with suspicion.  They presume that the government is up to some form of mischief.  To be sure, that presumption is rebuttable; but, the presumption is freighted with suspicion nonetheless.

In short, many in the black community have a complicated relationship with America.  To many white citizens, America represents that shining city on the hill.  To many black Americans, our country represents both the promise and the problems of this democracy.  The same America that enables blacks to rise to the highest ranks of business, celebrity, wealth, and fame is also the same America responsible for slavery, Jim Crow, the Tuskegee experiment, and insidious race prejudice that reduce the life chances of black folk.

Many in the mainstream media were mortified that so many - indeed, thousands of African Americans - cheered and shouted in response to Wright's message.  Could they really believe that our country is responsible for the AIDS epidemic?  For a community with a history of Lynching - state sanctioned terrorism - and the Tuskegee experiment - state sponsored biological testing on Blacks - Wright's claims seem plausible.  Hence, the clapping and cheering.

What we saw in the cherry-picked examples of Wright's sermons is a profound suspicion about the possibilities of America.  For the first time, many white Americans came face to face with a brand of black liberation theology that is anathema to their idea of America.  That fellow citizens could see our country so differently shocked the conscience.  How can they clap at these indictments of our country, many asked?  The response: they earned the right owing to a long and complicated history of both promise and subjugation, side by side, in America.  I am confident that the people of Trinity United Church of Christ believe deeply in the American ideal.  They just don't believe we've attained it.  Much more work needs to be done. 

The tradition of black liberation theology seeks to challenge, confront, and cajole America to, as Martin King urged, "live up to the true meaning of its creed."  That Wright chose a confrontational style, rather than attempting to inveigle America to achieve its potential is by no means unpatriotic as many claim.  Rather, it comes from a long and storied tradition of social critics challenging the country to live up to its ideals.  To be sure, Wright does not play on a single register.  Take his sermon "The Audacity to Hope," the sermon that inspired Obama's book of a similar title, for instance.  In this sermon, Wright provides a wonderful meditation on the nature of Christian hope.  No fiery rhetoric; no salvos at the government; just old-fashioned Christian hope.

We are not likely to hear this Wright.  The media will not play and the public will not sit through a ten minute homily that works through the possibilities that hope entails.  I suspect that Obama is more attracted to the form and style of the "Audacity to Hope" Wright than the "Ridin' Dirty" Wright.  The former seems more consistent with Obama's politics and disposition.

Obama seeks to carve out a new discursive space, one in which the presumptions change.  Obama imagines an America where we presume the best in each other and our government.  But, this cannot be done by fiat.  It must be done by the collective efforts of the citizenry.  Ironically, the Wright storm may present an opportunity for Americans to confront some issues of race that require our attention.  Perhaps, we can begin talking to each other rather than at each other.  Perhaps, we can do the hard work that will merge all the mini-Americas into what Obama urges, the United States of America.  Perhaps . . .