It makes me cringe when I hear someone say some one or some act is racist. Are we really so far removed in our thinking that we have forgotten what racism really is? Or is anyone who thinks differently than we do simply a racist?

          I went to college in the mid 1970s in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Beautiful city. Really, to me, the jewel of the South. Chattanooga has changed a lot since I went to school there. If it had not, I would never go back.

          In January 1975, when I arrived, the city was one of the most racist places in the country. I went to a Christian college, but two of my professors were members of the KKK. When I got there, we had three black men in the student body and one black woman. Two of the black men played on te basketball team. When the season ended, those two were expelled because they had been seen talking to a white female student. She was also expelled. The black woman was expelled a week later for some reason or another. I don’t think I ever knew why, but I am fairly sure that whatever it was, a white woman would not have been kicked out. The other black man was from Nairobi and was the result of a missionary sent from our school. He made it to the end of the semester and never came back. Nothing was ever said or done about this even though one of the basketball players filed a lawsuit. The lawsuit had to be worked out in Chattanooga, and it was Chattanooga in 1975. No black man was going to win a lawsuit against a white school.

          However, I am pleased to say that Chattanooga has changed greatly, as all things do. In 1975 the city was a part of ‘the solid South.’ The South was completely racist and completely Democrat. Now, except for the really big cities, the South is not so racist and mostly Republican. Different place.

          But I learned a lesson in Chattanooga in 1975. I lived in a dorm a half mile from the campus. As an unmarried, first year student I was not allowed to have a car. So I, and my roommates, walked to school. It was only a half mile. But, a block from our dorm, and along the most direct path to the campus, was a large church specifically for African Americans. There was no law that it was a ‘black’ church, at least I don’t think there was, anyway, but it was understood. If you were a student, you were forbidden to walk past the church. We were told that it could be dangerous for us white men. To me, this was stupid. It was the quickest route. To keep from walking past it meant going a block out of my way. They were on a demerit system at the school and you could get 15 demerits for walking past the church. 100 demerits and you were out of school. In my ignorance of all the rules at the school, I had collected 90 demerits on the first day of classes, and none of them had anything to do with that church. So, while I thought the rule of not being allowed to walk past the church was idiotic, I obeyed simply to stay in school.

          One Sunday morning I was late for church. We had to attend the campus church and students had to sign in. Missing church got you 10 demerits. I was late because I had spent most of the night before in the library. (90 demerits on the first day would indicate I was not real bright, but I was trying. Hence, the late night at the library.) I was exhausted and had slept late. I worked 30 hours a week and was always studying, so I was always tired. I was rushing around trying to get ready and I decided I could save some precious time by going past the African American church. I probably would not get caught going by the church on Sunday morning, so I chanced it.

          When I got to the church, though, I stopped on the sidewalk outside the church. The windows were open to let in some sort of breeze and I could hear the singing inside. It wasn’t so much that it was beautiful singing. With my tin ear, I wouldn’t know the difference anyway. But it was ‘shake the walls down’ singing! I would swear that the walls were moving like the building was breathing. It didn’t sound like anyone was holding back. Everyone was singing at the top of their lungs, all accompanied by an out of tune piano that was being beaten like a drum. I stood outside and felt my spirit soar. I listened to about four songs and then the man in the pulpit leading the music saw me through the window, grinned and motioned me in. I took a couple of steps, then stopped. I had to get to the campus church. I just grinned and waved back and broke into a run. At the campus church I found someone with a sign-in clipboard (they were putting them away and I was to late). I pleaded my case and he relented, only giving me 7 demerits. It was a close thing. But it gave me an interest in the old negro Spirituals.

          One thing I found out is that white folks cannot sing a negro Spiritual. Oh, we can sing them, I guess, but we cannot understand them. We are several generations past slavery, but Christian African American are like the Jewish people. They teach their young the old stories. There is a passion we just cannot have. When you understand the symbolism in their words, many that come from the slavery days, you can understand the meaning. But the feeling is just not there for us. For instance, the story of Moses and leading the Hebrews out of Egypt has special meaning for blacks. These songs, created during slavery days, tell them to keep hope. They would one day come out of slavery to the Promised Land (Heaven). They see their hope in these songs. Of course, the songs we sing in church also have our hope in them, but we have a hard time feeling it. Standing outside that church, I saw people weeping inside. Rarely do we weep at a song. And that is a shame.

          A song you have probably heard, but read the words now and relate it to the life of a slave.

Go Down Moses

1.    When Israel was in Egypt's land, let my people go;
oppressed so hard they could not stand, let my people go.
Refrain:
Go down, (go down) Moses, (Moses), way down in Egypt's land;
tell old Pharaoh to let my people go!

2. "Thus saith the Lord," bold Moses said, let my people go;
"if not, I'll smite your first-born dead," let my people go.
(Refrain)

3. No more shall they in bondage toil, let my people go;
let them come out with Egypt's spoil, let my people go.
(Refrain)

4. We need not always weep and mourn, let my people go;
and wear those slavery chains forlorn, let my people go.
(Refrain)

5. Come, Moses, you will not get lost, let my people go;
stretch out your rod and come across, let my people go.
(Refrain)

6. As Israel stood by the water's side, let my people go;
at God's command it did divide, let my people go.
(Refrain)

7. When they had reached the other shore, let my people go;
they sang a song of triumph o'er, let my people go.
(Refrain)

8. O Moses, the cloud shall cleave the way, let my people go;
a fire by night, a shade by day, let my people go.
(Refrain)

9. Your foes shall not before you stand, let my people go;
and you'll possess fair Canaan's land, let my people go.
(Refrain)

10. This world's a wilderness of woe, let my people go;
O let us on to Canaan go, let my people go.
(Refrain)

11. O let us all from bondage flee, let my people go;
and let us all in Christ be free, let my people go.

Carries a different meaning when you are thinking differently.

          I know. Most African Americans today have lost that intense feeling. Society says that it is foolish for anyone to believe that ‘myth.’ Religion has become politized and everything has to be politically correct. The old songs are foolishness.

But back in mid-May of 1975, on a hot morning in the South. A large band of black people gathered in a church with no air conditioning to sing and praise and pray and preach. They knew that the school on whose property their church bordered despised them. And on that hot day a young white man, in a three piece suit and very short hair (and who obviously belonged to that school that despised them) stood outside listening to them raise the rafters. And when that white man’s presence was discovered, he was invited in to worship with them.

It is to bad politics has intervened. Politics is where racism resides in America today. But in Christianity is joy and freedom.

It was great music. After that great music I am sure it was great preaching.

This world's a wilderness of woe, let my people go;
O let us on to Canaan go, let my people go.