THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 23, 1996 TAG: 9606220130
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: KEVIN ARMSTRONG
LENGTH: 63 lines
Last weekend, while driving past a predominantly black church in Virginia Beach I saw a sign that the congregation was planning a Vacation Bible School. I turned to my two daughters, ages 8 and 10, and asked if they would like to go.
``Dad,'' said the oldest, ``people would laugh at us.''
``Why's that?'' I asked.
``Because we're white. We'd be different.''
``So?'' I said. ``How do you think black people feel when they come to our church? And what about the girls in your class at school who are black?''
``That's different,'' she said. ``We have other black people in our school.''
``Yes,'' I agreed, ``and you don't laugh at them, right? So, don't you think that if you visited this black church that people there would feel the same way as you feel about them visiting your church or attending your school?
``They wouldn't laugh at you. They'd probably look at you and think, `Hey, we have some new folks here today and they're white.' ''
That was the extent of our conversation, but I succeeded in provoking the desired thought.
I have for some time dreamed of a day in which the predominantly white church I attend would invite the predominantly black church down the street to join us for an ice cream social after services. Just watching parishioners from both congregations cross the street would be a sight I'd never forget.
That street represents an invisible barrier that has yet to be broken. Thirty years ago, if both churches had existed on their respective corners, it would have been a well-defined line that could not be crossed without fear of repercussion. Now, all that holds us back is fear of change.
Some citizens across the South obviously fear such upheaval more than others. About 20 predominantly black churches in several states, including Virginia, have been set ablaze by arsonists.
I envision lighting a torch of a different sort.
It resembles the light shed upon our community's paths by Nancy Clements, whose letter appears at right on this page.
I challenge pastors across Virginia Beach to follow the example set by the Lynnhaven churches Clements cites.
If the burning of black churches brings us together, then we ought to be thankful for the trials that afford us opportunities to help each other.
Virginia United Methodists gathered by the thousands last weekend at the Pavilion and promised to take up collections this summer to aid the churches that had been burned. Denomination was no barrier, nor was race.
Jack Atkins, a Virginia Beach resident who ran a leg of the Olympic torch run through Richmond this weekend, confessed that he had been moved to call Habitat for Humanity's national office and request that they organize efforts to rebuild these churches. Imagine how easy it would have been for him to have thought, ``Who am I? What can I do?''
Even the locally-based Christian Coalition came together in Atlanta last week with leaders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. It's easy for some to dismiss such action as pure politics, but don't discount its impact on our collective efforts.
It's a sign that something stronger and more personal is at work in individuals.
Since the most segregated hour of the week is on Sunday morning, churches ought to lead the way toward racial reconciliation.
The fire has been lit. Let's hope it catches on in Virginia Beach, not with the burning of buildings but with the rebuilding of attitudes and actions. by CNB