Originally Posted by KiteRider
We are a part of a church that encourages us to know our past. We march the trails that our ancestors marched to come out West. We visit Haun's Mill and Carthage with bowed heads and tear-filled eyes. We are moved by those stories and they are a part of our identity. Utah, where many of us call home, was the genius of our American Moses. Our culture and identity spring out of persecution and flight. In our private meetings, and for generations of temple attenders, these stories are/were told over and over again, becoming a deep part of who we are.
As Mormons we have some parts of our own history through which we can (if we dare) begin to appreciate the sensitivities of the black community. As a young child I recall a news story about a very old woman. She had been born into slavery. She was alive when I was alive. In my lifetime slavery was part of the living memory of some. When black families follow the prophet's advice, and explore their genealogy, they journey past trees covered in Strange Fruit and burning crosses. The black genealogist becomes a witness to government sanctioned terrorism, human experimentation (eugenics and exposure to disease) and subjugation.
How can black men and women honor and respect the memory of their ancestors without being angry?
For eighty years following the murder of Joseph, our ancestors swore blood oaths against the American government. Our ancestors moved to Utah when it wasn't even a U.S. territory. The trends of modern Mormon conservativeness, our lack of trust in the government, grow out of this history. Now take the Mormons' persecution and suffering and multiply that by thousands of lynchings and generations of public humiliation and a government that, in Reverend Wright's lifetime, sanctioned official segregation and discrimination.
In the Holy Temple, my great grandfather swore to avenge the murder of Joseph Smith. He swore to pray unceasingly to avenge the blood of the prophets upon this nation, and to teach that vengeance to his children and grandchildren. This is the history of our ancestors. I can understand it and sympathize with it. I am also glad that this hateful anti-America message was removed from our ceremonies. Thankfully I was born and raised in a day when the government's ire was not directed at my people. If not, and if I were running for public office, I might find myself in the same position as Obama today, or Senator Reed Smoot from our own history, forced to reject, denounce and deny my church's teachings.
One last note about the history of political activism in black churches. The tradition comes from the times of slavery, when slaves adopted their masters' religion and discovered that church was one of the few places they could speak openly about their situation. At church they would learn to sing together, and these hymns became the music that helped them endure their hardships. The lyrics were full of coded language, and they became a way for slaves to speak freely in front of their captors. Reverend Wright is part of a long important tradition of black activism in black churches. He is more American than apple pie. His anger is righteous, and his criticism is worth our consideration. We can't go about just ignoring major voices in our various American sub-cultures, or we risk shunning a potential Abinidai or Samuel.
I'm personally saddened that Obama felt that it was politically expedient to denounce his preacher.
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