"Unitarian Universalists and Race: A Dream Deferred"
by Rev. Kimi Riegel
January 19, 2003

Oh, how proud we are of our anti-slavery heritage. Nearly as prominent in the world of abolitionists as the Quakers, we like to call out the names of our famous Unitarian and Universalist forbears who fought slavery.

The Universalist doctor, Benjamin Rush, who was also a signer of the Declaration of Independence, led one of, if not the first anti-slavery society in America , formed in the 1790s. Mary Livermore, a prominent New England Universalist, went to Virginia and, after experiencing the slavery system firsthand, became "a pronounced abolitionist, accepting from no one any apology for slavery."^[1] Then come the Unitarians: William Ellery Channing, Maria Weston Chapman, Lydia Maria Child, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Lucy Stone and Clara Barton, to name just a few who individually spoke out frequently against slavery. Rev. Mark Morrison-Reed, our minister in Toronto , recounts the story of the Rev. Theodore Parker, in 1838 late at night writing sermons with both a gun and a sword nearby; so he could protect the runaway slaves he was hiding. In fact, Earl Morse Wilbur attributes the slow growth of Unitarianism after 1840 at least in part to the fact that so many "active spirits" were promoting such reforms as antislavery. In 1845, one hundred seventy individual Unitarian ministers published an antislavery declaration in The Liberator, lamenting both the fact that the gospel could not "be fully preached in the slave-holding states" and the "long silence of Northern Christians and churches."^[2]

While pride is certainly due in the case of many of these folks the work of individual Unitarians and Universalists is however, in sharp contrast with the institutional responses. The Universalists fair slightly better than the Unitarians as the earliest written statement is in the Articles of Faith and Plan of Church Government composed and adopted by the churches believing in the Salvation of all Men (Universalist), May 25, 1790, Chapter III, Recommendations, Section 3. Of Holding Slaves:

We believe it to be inconsistent with the union of the human race in a common Saviour, and the obligations to mutual and universal love, which flow from that union, to hold any part of our fellow-creatures in bondage. We therefore recommend a total refraining from the African trade, and the adoption of prudent measures for the gradual abolition of slavery of the Negroes in our country, and for the instruction and education of their children in English literature, and in the principles of the Gospel.

But then according to a UUA Commission on Appraisal (COA) report in 1983 the Universalist denomination was then silent on the issue for the next fifty-one years. At an 1820 Universalist Anti-Slavery Convention Hosea Ballou, our most well known Universalist who wrote the Treatise on Atonement (1805) claiming all humanity is saved, refused to sign the roll “because he believed a discussion of slavery was not a proper denominational question.”^[3] But by 1841 the denomination began to move and the Universalists in Maine passed a resolution condemning slavery. In 1843 the General Convention followed suit and the next year 304 Universalist ministers out of 344 signed a document titled, A Protest Against American Slavery.

Of the Unitarians, the Rev. Samuel J. May of the Church of the Messiah (now named May Memorial Unitarian Universalist Society) in Syracuse , N. Y. wrote in 1844:

The Unitarians as a body dealt with the question of slavery in any but an impartial, courageous...way. Continually in their public meetings the question was staved off and driven out, because of technical, formal and verbal difficulties which were of no real importance.... We had the right to expect from Unitarians a steadfast and unqualified protest against...American slavery. …They, of all other sects, ought to have spoken boldly. ^[4]

And so a different, less than complimentary, picture begins to emerge. The Universalists wait until 1843 and Unitarians wait until 1844 to make anti-slavery statements as institutional bodies. Fifty-plus years after the conversations began, fifty-plus years after the anti-slavery society began and less than 20 years before the first state seceded. And even our memory of individuals in this history is flawed. Theodore Parker wrote of his colleague Ezra Stiles Gannett, “he is calling on his church members to kidnap mine” as Gannett was in support of the fugitive slave act. What we forget is that Gannett too was a Unitarian, as was George Ticknor, slave commissioner for Boston .^[5] And many others who have worked throughout history to keep blacks out of our churches, out of our communities and out of our ministry.

While this is not really news, as most of us realize human history is never quite as simple and untainted as it seems in books. And holding up the positive stories of progress serves a purpose as it encourages us to move on toward civil rights for all. And yet we can end up congratulating ourselves when we have so missed the mark.

The stories written in Rev. Mark Morrison-Reed’s book Black Pioneers in a White Denomination continue to weave a picture of our faiths, taking them into the first half of the 20th century, where blacks were continually excluded from our ministry.

One such story, of a black man from Jamaica , Egbert Ethelred Brown, who attended Meadville Theological School , along with a small number of other African Americans at the time, is just one in a long line of stories where the separation between blacks and the followers of the liberal faith are made evident.^[6] Even in his early attempts to get into Meadville , Rev. Brown was advised not to come to the states from Jamaica , as “it seemed so uncertain whether he would ever find a parish.”^[7] He persisted and with the help of the then President of Meadville, Franklin Southworth, he received admission and funding. Upon his graduation, in 1912, he returned to Jamaica to bring the word of Unitarianism to his homeland. He wrote excitedly of the dreams and hopes for his ministry. His time at Meadville had been supportive and he had funds to continue his work in Jamaica . But sadly “the officials of the AUA (American Unitarian Association) were not like the men [he] had known at Meadville .”^[8] The AUA withdrew all grants from his work in 1915. They found his mission to be unsatisfactory. One minister who had traveled to visit the ministry and report back to the AUA had reported that, “since Mr. B. being coal black himself could not hope to secure the cooperation of white people and what is sadder still not even the presence of the whiter people of his own race” the mission should be dropped. His is just one story there are many others.

Time after time, story after story of African Americans being excluded, ignored, discounted, treated as inferior and disenfranchised, Unitarian and Universalist churches that closed their doors or moved to avoid including blacks, ministers, leaders and national committees that made racist decisions, published racist remarks and systemically excluded blacks. While at the same time being a group that struggled mightily individually -- and often as an institution in the other direction.

We have claimed to want to become anti-racist, inclusive and diverse. But a closer look at history makes it clear it hasn’t been a straight-line path to the current Unitarian Universalist Association’s commitment to becoming an anti-racist organization. The twenties, thirties and forties are woven with stories like Rev. Brown’s, stories that are almost inspiring and yet fall short and become sources of our embarrassment and guilt.

Even into the 1960s when many of our numbers were on the forefront of the fight for civil rights, showing up in Washington in huge numbers for the march in 1963, there are still stories of the struggle of African Americans for recognition within our ranks. Often during the ‘60s, as the struggles within the UUA become intense, the refrain was heard, “we went to Selma with you…” implying, of course, the story of James Reeb, a Unitarian Universalist minister who was martyred for the Civil rights movement. Some of our young people are studying about him as we sit here. The Rev. James Reeb story is a tribute to our faith. Rev. Reeb was among the handful of ministers who, when called on by Rev. Martin Luther King, arrived in Selma for the voting rights demonstrations. They had come in support of Rev. King and to demonstrate against the killing of Jimmy Jackson, a black man. When later that week, Rev. Reeb was also killed the number of Unitarian Universalist clergy swelled to over 200. Yes, we were in Selma but we were there because one of us died.[9] Rev. Reeb was a great man, but racism plays a part in that story too.

From 1967 to 1979 the struggles within the Unitarian Universalist Association are very painful to relate. One author writes, “Since the wounds of [that] split have not yet wholly healed, it is probably impossible to describe the events to everyone’s satisfaction.”[10] In the time I have left I couldn’t do it justice. Black empowerment led to schisms and walkouts that to this day create high emotions in the retelling; mistakes were made by many and perhaps history will never truly set it straight. Blacks and whites were against each other and the association leadership. Blacks and black organizations within our association were denied funding and those that were funded had their funds cut first when financial trouble emerged. It was a terrible time.

Mark Morrison-Reed reminds us, “We do not stand above the social attitudes of our times, as we are prone to believe, but instead flounder about in their midst with everyone else.”[11] Today at the Unitarian Universalist Association we have a pledge to become an anti-racist organization. Today we have an African American President of the UUA. And today I hear from Unitarian Universalists, “why would blacks want to join our church, our religion doesn’t speak to them.” It is not an easy task to be anti-racist. It is not an easy task to become a multi-racial organization. We will continue to do painful things, say racist words and stumble on the way. But we must not give up, for while we are like everyone else mired in our time, we can do our very best to rise above it.

Let me end with my own story of being mired in our times and having a painful yet valuable learning experience. This week it was reported that Rev. Bill Sinkford, our UUA president, wants to include a belief in God in the principles and purposes. The newspaper article said he will push to have God included in the principles we all affirm. I couldn’t believe what I read. The pain I felt brought tears to my eyes. The faith I have grown up with and love will now exclude those who don’t have a belief in God. How can I leave what has been my spiritual home, where will I go, what will I do? I can’t express to you now the ache that brought to me physically. I quickly fired an email letter to Bill asking him to please not push this. Since I was working on this sermon and the ‘60s were fresh in my mind, I asked him to remember the pain of those schisms and suggested such a move to include God would make that fight pale in comparison. Oh, the dangers of email. Oh, the dangers when emotions run high. Oh, the dangers of believing what we read.

Now it has been revealed that Bill was misquoted. He wants us to consider reviewing the principles and purposes. He wants us to consider what inclusion of the word religion would mean for us. He invites us to consider words like divine, holy and worship, which although difficult to define feel less exclusionary to me than saying we all affirm a believe in God. He asks us to seek a vocabulary of reverence, which is certainly keeping with our faith of inclusion and worthy of a sermon at some point. I had jumped to conclusions, fired off an angry letter, and on top of it I was dismissive of African American’s experience in our faith, all the while writing this sermon! Not bad for one afternoon. But in all seriousness, despite my attempt at humor, the pain for me is no less, but now quite different. Because I now know what it is like to even think, to consider that I might be excluded from the religion I love. Because I have perhaps glimpsed, at least have an inkling of, what it might be like to be black in this white faith. To feel you have come home, to finally find your spiritual home, and find the doors closed is not is a pain I can put into words. And because I have perhaps contributed to those feelings in another as in my hastily formed words to Bill, I have been dismissive of the pain he felt his whole life in this culture of exclusion and prejudice by suggesting my pain would pale his. And I even used words of color; pale, to describe it. I have justified any feelings he may have that this association continues to have racists in its numbers. That while I claim to be dedicated to anti-racist programs the minute I am threatened I lash out just like whites have for decades.

This path to becoming an anti-racist is not an easy one. We will falter and fall frequently as I have today. But if this is truly a faith we love, if we believe that all have a home here, we will keep trying. I wrote an apology to Bill. A hand-written carefully worded heartfelt apology – I do know what it’s like to be misquoted in the papers. I will not give up. I will continue to read, preach, learn and struggle as I try to become more anti-racist because I also know what it’s like to think I might lose my church and this is a lesson I will not soon forget.

Namaste.