by Edward Blum
R3 Contributor
Follow Edward J. Blum on Twitter: @edwardjblum
In 1963, the inability of whites to respect human rights left Niebuhr frustrated. He had spent his career as a pastor, writer, and professor grappling with the ethical dilemmas of modern society. He had become one of the nation’s most popular theologians, providing guidance to Americans high and low. Powerful politicians sought his insights, while recovering alcoholics prayed his prayers as they took their twelve steps. But Niebuhr had little to offer now. The faceless white Christ meant that the white church had lost face. “As far as the church is concerned, it represents a failure,” Niebuhr sighed. He found light a scarce resource in those dark days, and neither the serenity prayer nor the ethical understanding of moral men living in an immoral society seemed to bring him comfort.
By contrast, Baldwin was more positive. The author of The Fire Next Time, whose anger toward white supremacy burned so hot that he had invoked God’s words to Noah that the flood was merely a prelude and that the next judgment would be with fire, found a spark of hope in the tragedy. “The absence of the face is something of an achievement,” Baldwin suggested, “since we have been victimized so long by an alabaster Christ.” Where others saw meaninglessness, Baldwin found possibility. It was another chance to make life where death had reigned. “If Christ has no face,” then we must give “him a new face. Give him a new consciousness. And make the whole ideal, the whole hope, of Christian love a reality. As far as I can tell, that has never really been a reality in the two thousand years since his assassination.” Baldwin then called for a boycott of Christmas. True believers could avoid the material celebration of Christ’s birth to use economic might to make moral right.
(Pieces of this essay taken from The Color of Christ: The Son of God and the Saga of Race in America (2012)