So was anyone listening to some of the actual coverage of Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s theology yesterday? The ones where they were actually playing whole long sections of his sermons instead of little galvanic loops? The ones where African American journalists were interviewing African American pastors from Rev. Wright’s tradition about what he says and what he means and what he’s standing for?

The ones, especially, where his principle of being unashamedly Black and unapologetically Christian weren’t parsed as incomprehensibly alien “gotcha” syllables but addressed as obvious and important: contrary to the cultural colonialism of Euro/Anglo missionaries, the pipe organs, or neck ties in 110-degree (f) heat, or, well, the missionary position they imposed on their sometimes reluctant, sometimes enthusiastic, but always second-class-to-them congregants wasn’t Christianity. Even though the other part was.

And when you think about it those colonial congregants, like Rev. Wright, had every right to begin every sentence with “I’m not a Christian but…” But they didn’t because they felt what they felt and were unapologetically Christian. And in the face of that Christianity they didn’t much appreciate other people trying to shame them for taking a pass on communion with elevated pinkies and garden-parties themed about “uplifting” “those people.”

And when you look around and see people who turn that around and say things like “Well, I go to tea parties, and I do the missionary position, and I listen to pipe organs, and read “My Pet Goat“ to red ‘n yellow ‘n black ‘n white children at Emma E. Booker Elementary School so that makes me a Christian.” And then they act surprised, hurt, and angry when someone like Rev. Wright challenges them.

But Rev. Wright does not say “I’m not a Christian but…”

He says “I am a Christian and!“

With the occasional “God Damn you” thrown in, especially when it’s clear that to the extent there is a God you just might be damned.

But we are not all Christian, nor are we are all of Rev. Wright’s denomination, nor his gender, nor his race, nor his heritage, nor his class, nor his family, nor orientation, nor age, nor abledness, nor his service record as a soldier or his personal service to a President, nor his cis-genderedness, nor his natal language nor citizenship nor income nor education nor reproductive status nor health nor health-insuredness, and even if we are some of those things we are not all, and even if we somehow are all those things we’re not those same things in equal measure. But for all that we can hear him, and respect him, and learn from him. And if we disagree we can disagree with him and still hear him, and still respect him, and still learn from him. And when his words cut us rightly, and when they cut us wrongly, and we disagree with him we still can hear him, and respect him, and listen to him.

Because he is not a Christian but… all the rest, he’s a Christian and all the rest.

Reverend Wright is not an IQ test to be boiled down to one number, nor am I nor are you nor is anyone we know. We are all each of what we are and.

—-

Sometimes it seems to me that among broadly progressive people there’s a feeling we are IQ tests, that we can be boiled down to our number. Sometimes it feels — and I mean really feels, not rhetorically feels — that progressives, perhaps lacking experience with the faith of Rev. Wright and of other denominations, find it harder to forgive… in themselves or others… our… I dunno… trespasses, transgressions… sins of omission or commission. And perhaps because we — not unlike Rev. Wright’s tradition — have rejected imposition of the colonizing inessentials we forget that messages beginning with, effectively, “God damn you for…” are not words arising out of disrespect, nor shortsightedness, nor dismissal.

Yeah, some of us have become so brittle that we lash out at Rev. Wright for pointing out not only our feet of clay but our coating of mud and our filling of shit, that we retreat when our baby steps aren’t big enough, that we oppo-research his whacko-HIV-conspiracy butt in hopes of off-centering him to see how he likes it… And yeah, some of us have become so brittle that we’d prefer the painful destruction of did-not/did-too slinging, then piling, then avalanching of mud… And yeah, some of us might prefer that to the no-less painful but mutual support of turning each other our cheeks so the other may find and wipe away mud that we ourselves will never see on our own.

Because none of us is so perfect that we have no mud on us, no are any of us so sanguine that a little skin won’t come away with the mud. And if we speak of honoring diversity we do so not because someone, one mortal somewhere, or some one group somewhere might have it all down pat… has the “best” IQ. We do it instead because each of us, and each group among us can teach us a little arrogance, and each can teach us a lot of humility, and because left unchallenged yesterday’s inspiration is always today’s ego trip. And since there’s no one or one, on this world anyway, with the one truth and the only way to “salvation,” on this world, anyway… the only way out is to to hear, to respect, and learn. And, finally, not just learning from the insights of others or from insights of our own, but — if we would become wise — learning from ours and other’s mistakes.

Anyway, did anyone hear that coverage yesterday? I was driving between destinations yesterday and heard it on a secondary public channel that specializes in NPR rebroadcasts, and news feeds from Dutch and Australian national equivalents of the BBC and that, in my area at least, fades in and out like old shortwave. But I listened to it, and thought about all the times I’ve pulled up stakes, withdrawn, left myself behind saying “I’m not a liberal but…” or “I’m not an environmentalist but…” or “I’m not a person of faith but…” or, especially, “I’m not a feminist but…” And I thought about all the other people in the world who aren’t a this but, or a that but. And I thought about all the Salvadorans who died because people were too pure to vote, or at least vote for Jimmy Carter, and so they withdrew, and so Reagan became President. And I thought about all the people who’ve died and still will die, and all who’ve been oppressed and will remain oppressed, and all the medications that have been withheld, and all the court decisions what will be upheld because people were too pure to vote, or at least vote for Al Gore, and so they withdrew, and so My Pet Goat became President. And I thought about what my Dad, who loved Martin Luther King, said when King went to Memphis to help organize the garbage workers, that he was taking larger steps and casting a wider net. And I remember my Dad, who loved Dr. King, saying afterwards that they could tolerate him as long as he stuck only to injustices of race, but they couldn’t let him live when he began to address injustices of not just race but poverty and class. And I think about how easily we’ve splintered ourselves since… over again, and over again… without him.

And while I can look past all our agreements and consonances to places I don’t agree with Rev. Wright, and see as well where he doesn’t agree with me, I can still hear him, and respect him, and learn from him, as when he says not “I’m not a Christian but“ and says instead “I am a Christian and.“

There are so many places in experience and discourse where “and…” fits perfectly where once “not/but…” pinched and chafed.