Your ‘White Jesus’ will never care about Black lives

The Black Lives Matter movement and its place in the history and fundamental realities of the Christian faith

Your ‘white Jesus’ will never care about Black lives. But the real Jesus, the Jesus of history and of faith (whatever your belief) who looks more like the Syrian citizens that you see on television refugee appeals than the soft emblem in the local parish stained glass window, does. Historically, Christianity has been weaponised by the West to create an image of Jesus that would advocate for peace before justice and comfort before change because it benefitted the most powerful instead of aiding the most weak. But this could not be further from the truth. The Jesus of history and of religion, while amassing a following close to 2 billion today, was in many regards counter-cultural and publicly denounced the injustices of his society. This term ‘white Jesus’ is pertinent to the image of the Christian God curated by the colonial West in order to indoctrinate and enslave. While within the heavily political and racialised context of our present society, Jesus’ ethnicity is significant, Christ’s ethnic heritage is often given much less thought in religious environments. But, deconstructing ‘white Jesus’ and the accompanying doctrines on social issues such as Black Lives Matter, police brutality and racial inequality is more important than ever.

“Black Lives Matter is about addressing a societal state of marginalisation — not propagating a sense of superiority.”

Black Lives Matter. The BLM movement, the marches, the activism and all the sociological paraphernalia that accompany it are ‘controversial’ because they centre black lives in a society that has excelled in marginalising them. In centuries-old social systems that funnel black youth from public schools to prison, start black history with slavery and pit dark skin as the undesirable antithesis to that which is fair and lovely, it is no surprise that Black Lives Matter ruffles feathers. But Black Lives Matter is about addressing a societal state of marginalisation — not propagating a sense of superiority. I have best heard it explained like this: if the house at the end of the road was on fire, would you expect the fire brigade to hose down every house on the street, or just the house on fire? Evidently, the latter. Would it be out of place for the family of this home to scream and mourn over memories, souvenirs and even loved ones lost? To demand aid in a situation where they cannot advance on their own? No, it would not. The oppression of the Black community is this house on fire. They say the fire ended in 1833 when slavery was abolished. Or in 1964-65 when segregation was ‘outlawed’ and black suffrage was ‘granted’. Maybe even twelve years ago with the election of the first Black President of the United States. However, the televised tragedies of recent years have proven this to be far from true. The fire of racial inequality has been faithfully smouldering for the past four centuries, going largely ignored and untreated by those possessing the water hoses of justice. But now as the ash settles and the smoke begins to clear, the damage of this past half-millennium of subjugation rears its charred head and the sights are devastating.

There are extensive passages that deal with racial inequality in the Bible, one of the most notable being the parable of the good Samaritan. In this New Testament story, a Jewish man is attacked on a road by robbers. Unaided by Jewish priests and temple assistants, it is not until a “despised Samaritan” passes by and takes note of this wounded man does the story change. The Samaritan man compassionately dresses his wounds and pays for his lodging at a nearby inn, promising to reimburse the owners for whatever further costs may incur. The message of this parable carried a lot of political and religious significance as the centuries-old division between the Samaritans and Jews was a tesselated tension of political legitimacy, religious piety and ethnic superiority. To paint this individual from a hated and marginalised ethnic group as the model citizen defied the reigning cultural thought of the Jewish community c. AD30. The intermingled composition of the early Church with both Jews and the Gentiles also crossed cultural, socio-economical and even linguistic boundaries in novel ways. Jesus addressed the precarious social ladders of his day and did not mince his words when it came to the equality of all groups, regardless of race and gender. To suggest that the Bible is ‘colour-blind’ or that it does not address issues of social injustice is so fallacious that it raises questions as to which Bible one is reading in the first place.

“ The legacy of ‘white Jesus’ is privileged passivity, not love and it must be eradicated.””

Love. That is the greatest commandment — the love of God and love of others. The two go hand-in-hand. 1 John 4:20 says, “If someone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates a fellow believer, that person is a liar; for if we don’t love people we can see, how can we love God, whom we cannot see?” Taking a clear stance of indignation towards racial prejudice isn’t unloving. Speaking up about prejudice and acting against it isn’t unloving. Acknowledging our privilege isn’t unloving. Silence, however, is. The antiquities and present realities of racial inequality demand love and righteous anger.

Arguments within religious circles often revolve around issues of looting or not looting, rioting or not rioting, protesting or not protesting, taking a knee, or not taking a knee. These are worthy discussions but by no means the most important. Before debating the means, we must first address the cause of injustice, those which the doctrines of ‘white Jesus’ have failed to acknowledge. The legacy of ‘white Jesus’ led to the birth of the racist institutions that permitted transatlantic slavery and exploitation of Native American lands and people in the name of the ‘Gospel’. It led to the ignorance of 60s preachers who wrote the likes of Martin Luther King Jr, shackled in federal prisons, that ‘it wasn’t the right time’ for civil rights, while they enjoyed the cushy comfort of their privilege. It led to modern religious bodies that have outreach programs for every societal concern under the sun but neglect to address the racism in their congregation, on their doorstep, in their neighbourhoods and counties. The legacy of ‘white Jesus’ is privileged passivity, not love and it must be eradicated.

“For those within the Church or any other religious body when it comes to racial reconciliation, the excuse can no longer be, ‘That isn’t my ministry.’ “

Although I speak to general perceptions of Jesus and race in and outside of the Church, the racial injustice we are more clearly witnessing is not a religious issue, it’s a human one. We all have a responsibility to hold our families, our friends, our colleagues, and our governments accountable for the clear as well as covert racism woven into the very fabric of modern society. For those within the Church or any other religious body when it comes to racial reconciliation, the excuse can no longer be, ‘That isn’t my ministry.’ We must all be ready to act in righteous indignation, risk our comfort, let go of our privilege, and decentre ourselves from the ‘white Jesus’ discourse that focuses on the comfort and privilege of self instead of fighting for the justice and equality of all. Like the Samaritan man and numerous other individuals in history have shown, we must also be prepared to sacrifice our time, our money, our social statuses and even our reputations. The burning house of racial inequality faithfully looms on both blue skies and cloudy days, ready and waiting for those who will help rebuild and restore that which has been lost. Its chilling shadow challenges each passerby, ‘Are you willing?’ Now, we must ask ourselves the same thing, are we?