[Sigh.  Sometimes you can just tell something didn't work right with a blog post.  Here's another shot at it with the truncated part restored.]

Several have commented and blogged on the statement issued by Hillary's pastor about Rev. Wright. However, Rev. Snyder's sermon on Easter was far more important. If you're a Christian, or even a near-heathern apostate like myself, it's worth reading the whole thing. Whether by accident or design, Hillary chose her pastor well. The sermon is about the competing emotions of fear and joy of the Disciples when confronted by the Resurrection. It also happened to reflect at some length upon his own reaction to Obama's speech on Tuesday, the white response to soundbite clips from Rev. Wright sermons, and upon his own experience some years ago as the white pastor of a predominately African American church. This guy could almost get me back into church again. Like with some of Obama's better speeches, it does not lend itself to soundbites or brief quotations and, like with some of Obama's better speeches, I found myself choking up at certain points. Read the whole thing.

Here's a quote to convince you: 

I want to talk for a few minutes about race in America this Easter morning, but I want to be clear that this is only an illustration of a deeper truth. This is not the point but an illustration of the point.

I was feeling depressed about the racial tension in America this past week. At the request of a member, I made a statement this week about the attention the media was giving to some comments by Rev. Jeremiah Wright, whom I have heard speak a number of times. The statement is available on our website and copies are available in our office. I was feeling sort of depressed. When are we ever going to be able to get past the racial divisions that run so deep in the American psyche?

Then suddenly this weekend I moved from fear to joy. I realized that the tension we are experiencing is because the rules are changing. What we are experiencing is the shock of resurrection which always causes within us fear and great joy all mixed up together.

I was the pastor of a primarily African-American congregation for several years in the 1980’s. When I say primarily African-American I mean all but two people in the congregation were African-American. One of the two who was not African-American was married to me.

It was the most fearful and joyous experience of my life. Every day we had to choose between fear and joy. 

I knew it was a sacrifice for a congregation of African-Americans of the generation who had grown up before and during the civil rights movement to have a white pastor.

For African-Americans, church in those days was where you could go to say what you really thought and what you really felt without white people looking over your shoulder disapprovingly. Church was something –sometimes the only thing – that belonged to you, that you got to run. Church was where you could let your guard down.

Suddenly now you’ve got a white pastor. He is in some ways an intruder; yet, you’ve got to treat him well because there is no higher value among a people who know what is like to be put out than hospitality.

It was frightening for me, too. I was always nervous I would say or do something offensive. There are all sorts of things white people do that are offensive and we have no idea. I was careful and guarded, and members of the congregation were careful and cautious around me.

We eventually figured out how to be church together. But every day we had to choose between fear and joy.

One turning point was when three men in the congregation invited me to go with them to a men’s prayer breakfast at a neighboring church. We had a fine breakfast. As was often the case in those days, I was the only white person in the room. Then it was time for the speaker.

The speaker spoke on the superiority of the black race over the white race. He quoted scientific studies that proved, he claimed, that the brains of black people are, on average, larger and more developed than the brains of white people. It was a mirror image of the foolish pseudo-science white people had used for centuries to supposedly prove they were superior to black people. A mirror image.

I could tell that the three men who had invited me to the breakfast were mortified, just absolutely mortified. They sat as stiff as if they were corpses.

One of the men had driven us there. After breakfast and the speech, we got in his car. The ride back began in a very uncomfortable silence. Nobody knew what to say. Finally I decided I had to say something to break the ice. So this is what I said: “He’s not all wrong, you know? Every black person I have known,” I said, “has had a more developed brain than my white brother-in-law.”

Every day we had to choose between fear and joy. The rules were changing and every day we had to choose between fear and joy.

We made it – that congregation and I. It was scary but we learned we weren’t so fragile that we would shatter if we heard or experienced something uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. We could take risks with each other. And eventually there were actually times when we almost forgot the shades of our skin. Great joy.

. . .

The rules are changing in America and we have to choose between fear and joy.

Be very clear – I am not talking about who we vote for, that’s not the point. I am talking about how we listen to each other in this situation of fear and joy.

When I was pastoring the African-American congregation, I developed a new spiritual practice. If anyone took the risk of suggesting to me that something I said or did had within it any tinge of racism, I adopted the practice that I would not react, I would not allow myself to become defensive, I would not try to justify myself. I would ask questions to make sure I understood and I would think about it for 24 hours. After 24 hours I might decide that what the person had said was wrong, but if an African-American was willing to take the enormous risk of pointing out something they saw in me, I was going to give it serious consideration.

I have since tried to apply this same principle to gender, sexual orientation and the differently-abled. I don’t always pull it off, but I try. I may decide after 24 hours that you are wrong, but I want to always try to consider it carefully.

When the Jeremiah Wright sound bites appeared this week, I wish white Americans could have said, “Tell us more, Dr. Wright. Explain to us what you are trying to tell us. Let’s see the videos of the entire sermon. We want to understand your perspective. We are going to try to not be defensive. We may end up disagreeing with you, but we are going to take some time to try to understand what you have to say.” What a wonderful thing that would have been for white America to do.

But instead we became afraid. We can choose between fear and great joy, because in America today, in the place of our deepest oppression, we are experiencing the shock of resurrection.

But I say this only as an illustration of a larger truth.

When the rules change, we get scared. If the crucified don’t stay crucified, what rules can we trust? That’s why Mary and Mary were afraid. But mixed up with the fear is joy, liberation and new life.