by Jennifer Copeland, Executive Director
Over the course of time certain words acquire flashpoint status, where previously they had merely been words used as signifiers for objects or ideas. Reparations is such a word. Originally meant to signify the return of that which was stolen or denied from the one who deserved it, the word has now taken on different meanings based on who says it and who hears it. Those expecting to anti up have conceived all manner of excuses why they shouldn’t. Those expecting remunerations have started counting their unhatched eggs. Many fall along the spectrum of those two extremes. Reparations are a conversation stopper for many.
We intend to recast the conversation through the lens of Christian teaching, specifically the reconciling work God has accomplished through the life, teaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus. In Jesus, God offers the path to restoration. By focusing on restoration, we leave behind the language of debtors and creditors, victims and perpetrators, givers and takers. We move to a place of restoration by acknowledging the reconciling work that begins with God. All reconciliation comes from God, giving us the power to be reconciled with one another and reconciled within ourselves.
Grounded in the Christian principle of confession, repentance, and reconciliation we aim to show people of faith the places where systemic racism has benefitted whites and harmed others (not only black people, even though our gaze is mostly here). Like the Old Testament prophets we offer this truth as a lament, not an attempt to shame people. The lament calls all of us to admit the truth–confess–and turn away from this behavior–repent. Furthermore, we believe there is a Christian call to restore that which has been lost by those harmed by this system. For those who can directly trace the harm to themselves, a la Zacchaeus, restitution can be made.1
As told in the Gospel of Luke (19:1-10), Zacchaeus was a tax collector. Employed by occupying power Rome, tax collectors earned their living by collecting more than Rome required and keeping the access for themselves. Luke tells us Zacchaeus was “rich” (v. 2), suggesting he collected quite a bit more than Rome required. Luke also tells us Zacheus was “short” (v. 3), so the only chance he had to catch a glimpse of Jesus as he passed through town was to climb a tree. It’s unlikely Zacchaeus meant to draw attention to himself, but it’s clear that Jesus knew who he was. When Jesus came near the tree, he called Zacchaeus by name and announced he intended to stay at Zacchaeus’ home that day. The circumstances seem to indicate that was Jesus’ plan all along, unbeknownst to Zacchaeus who perched in the tree hoping to get a glimpse of this populist leader. Zacchaeus immediately responded to the news of Jesus’ impending visit to his home with the philanthropic announcement that he would give half his possessions to the poor. More importantly, he next offered a pledge of restitution. As part of the Mosaic Law (Leviticus 6:1-7), restitution required a person who stole someone’s property, not only to pay for it, but to add 20 percent or one-fifth of its value. Zacchaeus pledged to quadruple the amount. This form of restitution demonstrates direct compensation to the one who is wronged by the one who committed the wrongdoing. And, of course, in Zacchaeus’ case, he more than compensated for his wrongdoing.
Like Zacchaeus, there are times in our lives when we know exactly the wrong we have done, whether in word or deed. Such knowledge forces us to admit it or deny it. To deny it is to compound one wrong with another. To admit it–confess–and pledge change–repent–allows the possibility of forgiveness. Authentic confession and repentance necessarily includes restitution, else we reduce forgiveness to “cheap grace”–words without deeds.
While easier said than done, restitution may still be easier than restoration. Whereas restitution is a direct response to a wrong for which one admits culpability, restoration addresses wrongdoing for which one is not directly responsible. The story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37) provides a splendid example of someone who did not create the harmful situation, but upon becoming aware of it, chose to do something about it.
As the story goes, a traveler set out from Jerusalem to Jericho, a journey of about 17 miles, easily traveled in less than a day–if one does not “fall into the hands of robbers,” that is. Others are also traveling the road, fortunate enough not to fall into the hands of robbers. The ones to whom we are introduced include a priest, a Levite, and a Samaritan. The priest in this story represents religious leadership and the Levite an associated order of priests. The Samaritan not only had no sacred rank but was identified as “other” by those standing around listening to Jesus tell the story. While there may not always be great affection for ecclesial leadership, there is generally recognizable respect. The priest and Levite are those from whom folks expect righteous action. In a plot twist, Jesus portrays the designated outsider as the one who does the right thing.
The right thing in this scenario is to recognize a wrong committed and take steps to rectify the situation without pausing to weigh one’s personal entanglement. Here is where most of us will find ourselves. Removed a century and a half from “legal” slavery in this country, we can all say, “I don’t own slaves.” Some of us will look for absolution by noting our families did not own slaves. The Good Samaritan also did not rob the man in the ditch. The mere truth that black people were legally owned in this country is enough to expect restoration if the Good Samaritan is our model.
Moving closer to our own time in history, we still have a tendency to dodge responsibility for any of the Broken Places named in this resource. Even still, if we are able to show our personal innocence in those places, the restorative witness of the Good Samaritan calls for acts of restoration. Furthermore, we should not lose sight of the fact that Jesus tells this story as an illustration of loving one’s neighbor. The shock of having an “other” described as the one who shows neighborly love only drives home his point. Neighbors show love for one another by restoring that which has been wrongfully taken, even if we didn’t take it.
Love of neighbor is an essential element of God’s command to humanity. Likewise, the sacrificial cost of this love is part of the equation. As Martin Luther King, Jr., offered in one of his many sermons on the story of the Good Samaritan, self-preservation is overruled by the command to love.
I imagine that the first question which the priest and Levite asked was: “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” But by the very nature of his concern, the good Samaritan reversed the question: “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”2
That might be the question any of us asked when faced with the reality of harm before us or the knowledge of wrongs around us. What will happen to this person if I don’t help? What will become of this situation if I don’t get involved?
The Christian principles of confession, repentance, and restitution must be woven into the history of systemic racism in our country, just for starters. Just as important, we must reckon with the post-slavery period. Certainly, we must acknowledge that some facets of the Church supported slavery, defended its practitioners, and benefited from its presence. But once slavery ended, we had the chance to be equal, as God intended, and we intentionally did not.
From Reconstruction, through Jim Crow and the Civil Rights era, and up to the present, the truth is hard to hear. While Reconstruction (1865–1877) offered a glimmer of hope for a semblance of equality, adding the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Constitution, abolishing slavery, granting citizenship, and protecting the right of Black men to vote, many of the states where slavery had existed resisted these new laws. When Reconstruction ended, these places enacted Jim Crow laws, re-enforcing racial segregation and discrimination. Blacks and whites were separated in schools, transportation, restaurants, and most other public places under the false idea of “separate but equal.” African Americans also faced voter suppression instituted through literacy tests, poll taxes, and intimidation,further preventing many from exercising their constitutional right to vote. Violence and racial terror, including lynchings, offered regular reminders of white supremacy.
As the Civil Rights Movement gained support in the 1950s and 1960s through organized peaceful protests, marches, and boycotts, its leaders mounted legal challenges to fight discrimination. These efforts led to landmark legislation, including the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which outlawed segregation and discrimination, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which protected voting rights for African Americans. Enforcement for these egalitarian efforts remains suspect in many places and has regressed in others. North Carolina is a prime example as our schools re-segregate by funding and geography and access to the poles becomes harder by the year.
We can generally confess the failure of real reconciliation following the Civil War. This guide seeks to go further by naming specific failures and locating those failures within specific places. We call them “The Broken Places.” We have chosen only seven, but hope our way of presenting them can help all of us identify the myriad broken places surrounding us. We have located them in known places across North Carolina, not because those are the only places these failures occurred, but because the specificity of what occurred can shine light on the preponderance of the failures across our land.
Our work is to name these truths in such a way that while the country is having a conversation about government reparations, we can be people who will not argue against them based on false realities. If our work emboldens people to work for reparations, all the better. Beyond reparations as an economic “reckoning,” we believe people of faith should also be seeking systemic change that keeps the past from repeating itself and moves us toward equality in the human family.
Some Parameters
The language of confession, forgiveness, and reconciliation is uniquely Christian, though the concepts exist in most recognized faith traditions. We do not intend to speak for our interfaith neighbors, but welcome their contribution to our work as they mine their own traditions for courage to mend the Broken Places around us.
This work intentionally focuses on the harms done to Black people by white people. We acknowledge the indigenous populations who had lived on the soil now named the United States of America for at least 20,000 years before Columbus even made it as far as the Caribbean were the first people harmed by the invasion of white people. We acknowledge that other ethnic groups have suffered under the structures imposed by white people. (Many of us find it helpful to learn and regularly name the indigenous people who lived in the places we now call home. We suggest each one using this resource make the effort to do so.)
White privilege is less the crime of individual white people, though many individuals are guilty of said crimes, and more the result of a system that ensures safety, prosperity, and power to those with lighter skin. Some call it “white skin advantage,” which makes sense to those of us who know plenty of low wealth white people with little “privilege.” Still, most of them are safe on the street corner most of the time and few of them are tailed in department stores while browsing the aisles.
A necessary cousin to the term white privilege is the weighted word, white supremacy. We might want to assign this concept to torch bearing, hooded marchers rallying around a confederate monument, but that’s too easy. In reality, white supremacy has been the rule of the land since Columbus’ successors found their way to the continent. Ample evidence exists to support the conclusion that whites occupy the top tier of American social hierarchy with almost exclusive access to its benefits. Our penchant to name the exceptions merely supports the rule.
- The following distinction between restitution and restoration is credited to Duke L. Kwon and Gregory Thompson who develop this idea in Reparations: a Christian Call for Repentance and Repair, Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2021.
- Martin Luther King, Jr., “On Being a Good Neighbor,” in Strength to Love, Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2019, ebook, https://web-p-ebscohost-com.proxy.lib.duke.edu/ehost/ebookviewer/ebook/bmxlYmtfXzIwMDM3OTFfX0FO0?sid=326ad4f1-9ef9-4f3e-9a1e-b08446f8c442@redis&vid=0&format=EK&lpid=navPoint-9&rid=0, accessed 4/14/2022.
Table of Contents