In this fourth week of Black History Month in the U.S., I want to share a word from African American theologian Shawn Copeland. I find her message for Christians particularly powerful right now amid certain politicians’ efforts to suppress learning about the history of race and racism in schools. [1]
In her book Enfleshing Freedom: Body, Race, and Being, Copeland turns to solidarity as a vital Christian work in the face of injustice and oppression. She describes solidarity as “the empathetic incarnation of Christian love” with those being oppressed that includes “confront[ing] and address[ing] the oppressive cause and shoulder[ing] the other’s suffering.” [2] Solidarity with the most vulnerable and disempowered defines Christian life for Copeland because it defines Jesus, the one whom Christians are called to follow and to whose body they are united.
She characterizes Jesus’s solidarity like this:
“For these exploited and suffering poor, the prophet from Nazareth was the incarnation of divine compassion. His life and ministry exemplify what it means to take sides with the oppressed and poor in the struggle for life—no matter the cost. In Jesus of Nazareth, the messianic Son of God endures the shameful spectacle of death by crucifixion. He himself is to be counted among the multitude of history’s victims. But as the messianic prophet, the sufferings of the crucified Christ are not merely or only his alone. In his own body, Jesus, in solidarity, shares in the suffering of the poor and weak.” [3]
What I want to highlight here are two excerpts from Copeland’s book that elucidate what solidarity looks like for Christians. In the first, she says:
“Solidarity begins in anamnesis—the intentional remembering of the dead, exploited, despised victims of history. This memory cannot be a pietistic or romantic memorial, for always intentional recovery and engagement of the histories of suffering are fraught with ambiguity and paradox. The victims of history are lost, but we are alive. We owe all that we have to our exploitation and enslavement, removal and extermination of despised others. [. . .] Our recognition and regard for the victims of history and our shouldering responsibility for that history form the moral basis of Christian solidarity.” [4]
In the second, a few paragraphs later, she says:
“Solidarity mandates us to shoulder our responsibility to the past in the here-and-now in memory of the crucified Christ and all the victims of history. This shouldering of responsibility obliges us in the here-and-now to stand between poor women of color and the powers of oppression in society, to do all that we can to end their marginalization, exploitation, abuse, and murder. [. . .] Such shouldering cannot be done by a man or a woman alone; agapic praxis characterizes Christian community. In remembrance of the Body of Christ broken for the world, the followers of Jesus, in solidarity with one another, stand shoulder-to-shoulder, beside and on the side of exploited, despised, poor women of color.” [5]
“Intentional remembering of the dead, exploited victims of history.”
“Shouldering responsibility to the past.”
“Stand[ing] between poor women of color and the powers of oppression in society.”
“Do[ing] all that we can to end their marginalization, exploitation, abuse, and murder.”
Copeland’s insights cut to the heart of Christian discipleship. In them I hear a call for Christians not just to “do justice,” as the prophet Micah says, but to recognize that responsibility to oppressed human beings is essential for being the body of Christ in this world today. [6] Responsibility especially to poor women of color as well as others who have endured the most disempowerment and dehumanization. Responsibility rooted in attention to the “interconnectedness of human beings,” as Copeland puts it, and to “exploited, despised poor women of color as who they are–God’s own creation.” [7]
If more churches put Copeland’s understanding of solidarity into practice, I think a significant transformation could take place in how a lot of Christians, especially white Christians, do church. Just consider what could happen if more churches asked questions like these when discerning how to shape their gatherings, activities, and mission:
- Who are the poor women of color and other oppressed people whose lives were and are connected to church history? What does the church need to learn and remember? What might responsibility to these lives and their history look like for this church?
- How do the church’s current practices impact poor women of color and other oppressed people (within and outside the church)? What beliefs or messages do these practices communicate to and about poor women of color and other oppressed people? How do those consequences and messages affect other members of the community?
- What steps does the church need to take in order to stand and act in solidarity with poor women of color and other oppressed people today? What oppressive powers does the church need to oppose, and how can this church challenge those powers without wielding them in the process?
New language and imagery for God might arise. Teachings and practices that perpetuate assimilation to privileged identities could be recognized and rectified. New ministries led by poor women of color for poor women of color might develop. Involvement in local work to promote the liberation and flourishing of oppressed people could grow.
But true solidarity among the living cannot get far without examining and understanding the past. As Copeland shows, learning the history of those who have been oppressed is not optional for the body of Christ. It is the path where we will encounter Jesus. It is the path to our humanity. It is the path to “enfleshing freedom.” [8]
Notes and References
1. See, for example, Heidi Przybyla and Adam Edelman, “States weigh a raft of proposed laws to limit race, sexuality lessons in schools,” NBC News website (January 28, 2022): https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/politics-news/states-weigh-raft-proposed-laws-limit-race-sexuality-lessons-schools-n1288108.
2. M. Shawn Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom: Body, Race, and Being (Fortress, 2010), 93, 94.
3. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 87.
4. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 100.
5. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 101.
6. Micah 6:8 (NRSV).
7. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 100.
8. For Copeland, this phrase points not just to liberation for human beings generally, but to black women’s liberation specifically. In the epilogue, she uses this phrase to refer to black women of the past “enfleshing freedom” in the midst of oppression. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 129.
Header image of “Candles” is by Pascal Muller on Unsplash.
