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This chapter will examine more deeply the current state of Catholic racial justice—particularly as it pertains to the role of black agency and the use of black sources in Catholic racial justice. “Black agency” refers to the role that African Americans are deemed to possess in working toward racial justice in society, and “the use of black sources” refers to the extent that the intellectual, cultural, and ecclesial experiences of African Americans are incorporated into a theological framework of racial justice. The first section of this chapter will survey authors who offer a more limited view of African American sources and black agency. The latter section will consider authors who make greater use of and give greater legitimacy to black agency and experience. The first section will begin with an examination of the life and writings of John LaFarge, who, in addition to being a contemporary of Falls, was the most prominent American exponent of Catholic racial justice during the first half of the twentieth century, and whose impact is still discernible in the documents of American bishops. This section will then appraise documents from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, and the statements of individual American bishops. The second section will examine James Cone, Shawn Copeland, Bryan Massingale, and Jon Nilson.

Limited Use of Black Agency and Experience

John LaFarge

John LaFarge, S.J. (1880–1963), a contemporary of Falls, was the most famous Catholic champion of racial justice during the first half of the twentieth century. He rose to prominence in the interracial relations movement when he became involved with the Federated Colored Catholics (FCC). The FCC was founded in 1924 by Dr. Thomas Wyatt Turner (1877–1978), a biologist, to further the cause of African American Catholics in the Catholic Church, as well as to promote self-worth and to provide leadership opportunities.1 The independence of this group from clerical leadership and its methods of self-determination to solve the oppression of blacks made LaFarge uncomfortable. As historian David Southern observes, “LaFarge simply disliked protest with an African American accent.”2 He believed that the FCC should have clerical leadership and focus primarily on employing moral suasion and appealing to white sympathy to bring about racial justice.3 In 1932, after garnering enough support from black Catholics within the FCC, LaFarge and fellow Jesuit William Markoe orchestrated a constitutional revision of the FCC, which resulted in a change of aims and leadership for the organization.4 As Southern notes, after LaFarge took over the movement, “instead of raising a cadre of black leaders, the Catholic interracial movement actually helped create a vacuum of black leadership in the church.”5

In his 1937 book, Interracial Justice, LaFarge advocated for the integration of public and Catholic schooling in the United States, well before the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka court case, which ruled that separate but equal was unconstitutional. Interracial Justice pointed to a twofold approach for Catholic action in the attainment of interracial justice: (1) “the combating of race prejudice,” and (2) “the establishment of social justice.”6 LaFarge defined racial justice as an “equality of opportunity” for all groups or individuals, regardless of race.7 LaFarge’s understanding of racism did not address how to create an equality of opportunity when great economic disparity already exists between blacks and whites.8 Southern notes that the interracial movement had a history of applying pressure on the northern Church to integrate Catholic schools, hospitals, and seminaries, but that LaFarge was “more successful at improving the church’s image than in changing the church’s behavior.”9

LaFarge had greatly refined and simplified his theology of racial justice by 1956, when he published The Catholic Viewpoint on Race Relations. This work, which was published near the end of his life, proposed that growing economic security for blacks depended on the social attitudes of whites toward African Americans. For LaFarge, there was little that blacks could do to improve or contribute to the betterment of their own situation. LaFarge cited African Americans from time to time, but not as inspiration for his thought; instead, their writings served as proof-texts for his own preconceived notions. In a subtle jab at the policies of the FCC before he and Markoe took over the organization, he stated that “the more repeatedly the demands [for justice] were uttered, the less attention and interest did they create.”10 He considered the black empowerment presence in the FCC to be a form of separatism that made its members’ calls for integration hypocritical. He believed that after being properly educated, whites would destroy the idol of racism they were worshipping. An emphasis on white agency and clerical leadership was necessary because “although the Negro is the victim of discrimination, he does not necessarily know the answer or the cure.”11 Such a sentiment left scant room for appreciating either African American sources or black agency. Essentially, LaFarge’s thought did not extend beyond the theology found in the papal encyclicals on labor, such as Rerum novarum. The papal social encyclical tradition does not advocate that the oppressed should confront their oppressors, but rather promotes the use of moral suasion to convince those in power to act properly.12

U.S. Bishops’ Statements

Discrimination and the Christian Conscience

In 1958, the U.S. bishops issued their first major post-World War II document on racism—Discrimination and the Christian Conscience. In the wake of Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954), twenty-one documents decrying segregation had been published by various Protestant denominations before the issuance of the U.S. bishops’ document. This document, authored by Fr. John Cronin, S.S. (1908–1994), was published only after the death of a prominent opponent bishop, Cardinal Edward Mooney, who had anticipated that the document would divide the bishops. Even a cable from Pope Pius XII, on the day before his death, directing that the document be published immediately, was ignored by leading bishops on the grounds that it lacked the papal seal and was, therefore, unofficial. Nevertheless, when the document was finally brought before the bishops, they approved the statement with only four bishops dissenting.13 Discrimination and the Christian Conscience grounded its theology of racial justice primarily in two doctrines: (1) the universal Fatherhood of God and (2) Jesus Christ’s salvific death for all peoples. It also utilized the Catholic natural law teaching on the basic equality of all human persons and each person’s right to life and justice. Despite this strong doctrinal grounding, the bishops urged a “method of quiet conciliation,” which they saw as a middle path between “gradualism” and “rash impetuosity” in combating the unacceptable practice of mandated segregation.14

Although the document called for movement toward a society more clearly marked by equality, there was no clear set of goals or specific mechanisms to execute any plan. Essentially, the document offered vague generalities concerning the manner in which to address the problem of racism. In the end, the document lacked any mention of African American sources or black agency, and called for “responsible and sober-minded Americans of all religious faiths . . . [to] seize the mantle of leadership from the agitator and the racist.”15 The bishops did not clarify if an African American demanding his or her rights could be anything but an agitator.

The National Race Crisis

In 1968, the U.S. bishops released another statement on race: The National Race Crisis. The writing and publication of this document was swift compared to that of the previous statement. Massingale cites four reasons for its hastened publication: (1) the race riots of 1967; (2) the release of the Kerner Commission’s report, which blamed the recent race riots and racial segregation on the racism of whites; (3) the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.; and (4) the inaugural meeting of the National Black Catholic Clergy Caucus (NBCCC), in which African American clergy were extremely critical of the Catholic Church.16 The National Race Crisis was issued a mere three weeks after the assassination of King—a far cry from the four years between Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka and the 1958 document. Also, unlike Discrimination and the Christian Conscience, it stressed the necessity for solutions that addressed the structural aspects of racism by employing the Kerner Report. The National Race Crisis moved beyond the moral suasion present in Discrimination and the Christian Conscience and clearly stated that recent events made immediate changes necessary: “There is no place for complacency and inertia. The hour is late and the need is critical.” In addition, it explicitly recognized the fault of Catholics for the present problem.17

Although The National Race Crisis referenced King’s “Poor Man’s Bill of Rights,” it can be difficult at first glance to ascertain the source of the bishops’ proposed solutions.18 The bishops’ document asked for “special attention” to be paid to the following areas: (1) education, (2) jobs, (3) housing, and (4) welfare. All four areas were named in the Kerner Report, but they were also important to King and the Poor People’s Campaign. Michael K. Honey writes that in the Poor People’s Campaign, King wanted “to abolish poverty directly through government redistribution that allowed poor people enough money to pay for their own housing, education, and other necessities.”19 The current economic benefits possessed by the wealthy were due to the slave labor and cheap wage labor of African Americans and the poor of all racial backgrounds. Additionally, King noted, “So often in America, we have socialism for the rich, and rugged, free enterprise capitalism for the poor.”20 Unlike the authors of the Kerner Report and The National Race Crisis, King commented on the need to significantly decrease funding to the military. King contended that the cost of the Vietnam War, if left unabated, would limit the resources necessary to abolish poverty in the United States.21 So although one could argue that the bishops made partial use of King as a source, they did not specifically cite King with regard to their four focus areas or utilize his claim that poverty and racism could not be properly addressed as long as America’s financial resources were dedicated to a war in Vietnam.

Furthermore, The National Race Crisis left no role for black agency. Three particular agents are mentioned for enacting needed change: (1) an interreligious Urban Task Force, for the creation of church programs throughout the United States; (2) the business community, particularly for the creation of jobs; and (3) the government, for intervention to complement the actions of the first two agents.22 In contrast, King wanted to coordinate a massive mobilization of poor people from all racial backgrounds in Washington, DC, to nonviolently agitate the government into spending billions of dollars to solve the problem of poverty in the United States.23

Even though the document prescribed the formation of the Urban Task Force, nothing substantial occurred in the organizing of this entity for over a year. A large part of the reason for this was because John McCarthy, the primary author of The National Race Crisis and a member of the Catholic Committee on Urban Ministry, “had no experience of community organization,” as he himself admitted.24 McCarthy, who was elevated to bishop of Austin, Texas, in 1979 (and is now retired), “helped forge the idea [of the Urban Task Force] that would grow into the Catholic Campaign for Human Development.”25 McCarthy also wrote a “supporting technical paper” that explored in more detail the need for the empowerment and self-determination of blacks: “Political, organizational and economic independence were important elements in earlier rapid integration of immigrant ethnic groups into the American society. The church must now support the black community in its efforts to achieve the organizational, political and economic power so necessary to break down existing patterns of dependence and frustration.”26

The bishops approved McCarthy’s supporting paper “in substance,” as a guide for the bishops themselves, but it would not be issued to the public.27 Despite the high ideals put forth in the supporting document for fostering the self-empowerment of African Americans, Massingale points out that the bishops budgeted only $28,000 for the Urban Task Force while they allocated several hundred thousand dollars for a study of clerical celibacy during the same period.28 The Urban Task Force quickly morphed into the Campaign for Human Development, for which the bishops would raise $8.5 million in 1970 alone, but that program focused more on eliminating poverty than addressing racism. This change of emphasis from race to poverty ignored the issue of racism and would quickly negate McCarthy’s call for black agency and empowerment under the more generic guise of empowering the poor.29

Brothers and Sisters to Us

In 1979, the U.S. bishops issued Brothers and Sisters to Us. As the document itself states, it was written for two reasons: (1) an appeal for a new document on racism was requested at the 1976 Call to Action conference on social justice, which the bishops convened to consult with the laity as a way to celebrate America’s bicentennial and to give a greater voice to the laity, as envisioned by the Second Vatican Council; and (2) racism was just as pernicious as it had been ten years previous, though the “external appearances” had changed and become more “subtle.”30 This document, in a vein similar to LaFarge’s writings and the bishops’ previous statements, grounded the sin of racism in a denial of (1) the universal Fatherhood of God and (2) the Incarnation, in which Jesus became the brother of all, with the intention of offering salvation to all humanity. Unlike previous statements, it affirmed that minorities have something “rich” to bring to our nation and that “each [racial group] is a source of internal strength for our nation.”31 The document admitted that the Church was experienced by many as a “racist institution,” and called for the Church to be an exemplar of racial justice in its employment practices, in the fostering of vocations, in calling for racial justice in the structures of greater society, and in supporting the poor, especially through providing “spiritual and financial support” for Catholic associations organized by minority groups.32

Also in contradistinction to the previous two statements on racism, which were composed solely by whites, Brothers and Sisters to Us had considerable input from a black Catholic. Cyprian Davis, an African American Benedictine monk and Church historian, was asked by then Auxiliary Bishop Joseph A. Francis (d. 1997) of Newark, the chair of the committee working on the document, to rewrite a draft of the statement. Davis believes that the most significant idea he added to the document was a systemic notion of racism.33 In addition, the document admits that the civil rights movement of the 1960s supported by Catholics and others received “much of its initiative and inspiration within the black Protestant Churches,” which acknowledges that black agency and black sources have led to concrete Catholic involvement in racial justice.34

As Massingale writes, Brothers and Sisters to Us was “more concrete and detailed” in its plans to address racism than previous documents and it did lead to more African Americans entering the priesthood as well as broader liturgical inculturation.35 This analysis corresponds with Davis’s memory: when he was solicited by the bishops to rewrite the document, he was asked to add “strong language” and “definite” plans to the document. Massingale also asserts, however, that the document appears to be written by white Catholics for white Catholics. Davis agrees with this assessment: at the time, he believed that he was supposed to maintain the writing style of the bishops, who were overwhelmingly white, making heavy use of hierarchical sources. He further points out that this is why “What We Have Seen and Heard,” a 1984 document on evangelization published by the African American Catholic bishops, is an important sequel. Davis observes that in the latter document, in which he also had a significant authorial role, the black bishops spoke as black bishops. Therefore, Davis felt at liberty to contribute to it as a black Catholic.36 Although Brothers and Sisters to Us acknowledges the importance of African American sources and black agency during the civil rights movement, and even suggests that Catholics cooperate with black Protestant churches in the pursuit of racial justice, the document is implicitly addressed to white Catholics and does not offer any direction or encouragement for Catholics belonging to any racial minority group.37

“What We Have Seen and Heard”

In contrast to the implicit white orientation of Brothers and Sisters to Us, “What We Have Seen and Heard” is explicitly addressed “To Our Black Catholic Brothers and Sisters in the United States.”38 This document could properly be placed in the latter section of this chapter because of its emphasis on black agency and African American sources, but it will be kept in the present section to reflect Cyprian Davis’s belief that it is a sequel to Brothers and Sisters to Us. “What We Have Seen and Heard” is inundated with black sources and African American spirituality. The African American bishops wanted to bring to the Church the gifts present in black spirituality: (1) spontaneous contemplation; (2) a holistic faith that brings together “intellect and emotion, spirit and body, action and contemplation, individual and community, sacred and secular”; (3) joyful celebration; (4) a stress on community; and (5) the importance of the extended family. The document perceived a role for African American men and women in transforming society based on what was particular to them, including roles within their families and in ecumenical efforts with different denominations within the greater “Black Church.” The bishops encouraged black men to be responsible fathers and caring husbands despite the economic hardships of a society that often makes gainful employment for black men extremely difficult. Black women were called to complement the role of black men with service to the black community and the Church. For their task, black women have role models in Harriet Tubman, Mary McLeod Bethune, Mother Theodore Williams, Elizabeth Lange, and Henriette Delille, who all worked tirelessly for the betterment of the African American community.39

“What We Have Seen and Heard” is predominately a letter on evangelization, with the second half of the letter focusing on the requirement that blacks take an active role in this endeavor. The greatest hindrance to African American Catholics sharing their faith with others was racism within the Catholic Church itself. Therefore, African American Catholics must “demand” recognition and leadership roles in order to seriously carry out the work of evangelization. In addition, the black bishops observe the need for more African American vocations to the priesthood and religious life, the lack of which has been complicated by racism. Black leadership should also be fostered in the promotion of the permanent deaconate, a trained and empowered black laity, opportunities for child education, inculturation in the areas of liturgy, the Rite of Christian Initiation, and dedication to work for racial and social justice.40

Moreover, the document was partially informed by the input of African Americans in the United States. Feedback from listening sessions held in Catholic churches with predominantly black congregations was incorporated into the document. This may account for the emphases on the gifts that African American spirituality can bring to the Catholic Church as well as the perceived roles for black men and women in transforming society.41 In the conclusion, the African American bishops called upon all people in the Catholic Church, in their respective roles, to foster a climate conducive to evangelization among African Americans, and they specifically asked black Catholic lay leadership “to help implement the actions called for in this letter” on the local and national level.42 This document is a stunning example of how valuable and practical a document can be that is informed by the African American experience and encourages black agency.

Individual Bishops’ Statements

In a set of twenty-one statements from individual bishops and bishops’ conferences from 1990 to 2000 analyzed by Massingale, only three utilize “What We Have Seen and Heard.” Otherwise, African American sources are completely absent from these bishops’ statements.43 Since 2000, four American bishops have issued documents on racism: Cardinal Francis George of Chicago, Bishop Dale J. Melczek of Gary, Archbishop Harry J. Flynn of Saint Paul and Minneapolis, and Archbishop Alfred Hughes of New Orleans. I will very briefly examine these documents in chronological order, though the use of African American sources and the notion of black agency vary widely from document to document. Although I will be largely critical of these documents, these bishops should be commended for prioritizing racial justice.

In 2001, Cardinal Francis George of the Archdiocese of Chicago published Dwell in My Love: A Pastoral Letter on Racism, with aid from Bishop Joseph N. Perry and Sr. Jamie Phelps.44 Perry, an auxiliary bishop in Chicago, and Phelps, a Dominican sister and systematic theologian, are both African American. Their names are the first two mentioned on a list of four researchers and writers. At face value, the document appears to have had significant input from the black Catholic experience. Nevertheless, it does not significantly address the role of black agency. Despite writing of the need for schools to “celebrate” the contributions of minorities to our society, the only role that blacks appear to be given in the document is that of “forgiving those who have offended them,” and even this sentence is not race specific.45 The conclusion offers many concrete structural changes that can and should occur on the parish, archdiocesan, educational, and societal levels, but there is not any specific role or mechanism for African Americans in ensuring that these changes take place.46 Without a doubt, the absence of any significant role for African Americans in pursuing racial justice is the greatest weakness of this document. In addition, because this document does not relate narratives of black empowerment, the notion of black agency is not even implicit.

In August 2003, Bishop Dale Melczek of the Diocese of Gary issued Created in God’s Image: A Pastoral Letter on the Sin of Racism and a Call to Conversion, which states that its sources are scripture, Church teaching, and the social sciences. For Melczek, racism is a sin that permeates society on an individual, cultural, and institutional level. The proper response to racism is threefold: (1) to analyze racism, (2) to convert Christian hearts to a more inclusive vision, and (3) for whites and people of color to work toward racial justice in solidarity. His concrete steps for confronting racism stress bringing whites and people of color together under various circumstances to nurture dialogue. Melczek does not make explicit use of the African American experience, utilize black sources, or put forth a coherent role for African American Catholics to address racism apart from collaboration with whites. His explicit use of black resources is limited to a generic citation from the African American philosopher Cornel West and an acknowledgement that a black priest and black bishop gave him feedback on a draft of the document.47

In addition, a recent dissertation that evaluated the Diocese of Gary’s initiative to end racism states, “Although the Bishop referred to some of the history of the various ethnic groups in his Pastoral Letter, and individuals were able to tell their story within the context of Listening Sessions, a comprehensive history of white supremacy and racism in this region of Northwest Indiana and the Church’s response was absent.”48 The dissertation also mentions that even though people of color have been present on the anti-racism committee for the diocese, the “primary architects of the Initiative were white.”49 Despite the genuine attempt of Melczek to confront the problem of racism in his diocese, both the use of black sources and the promotion of black agency are noticeably absent.

In September 2003, Archbishop Harry Flynn of the Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis (retired in 2008) promulgated In God’s Image: Pastoral Letter on Racism. Flynn clearly states that the “demands of the Gospel” require that the Church take concrete actions to address the personal and social manifestation of racism. He views racism not only as a personal reality, but one in which the “dominant culture” negatively impacts people of color for its own benefit—often without knowing it. His proposed responses to racism include personal and structural strategies. Regarding the ecclesial realm, he recommends that African Americans be given leadership positions and play a role in decision-making. Although Flynn does not single out a particular role for African Americans in correcting racism, he does ask the “white community [to] work in solidarity with people of color.”50 This type of advice indicates that white persons require the input and collaboration of African Americans if they want to adequately address racism.

In 2006, Archbishop Alfred Hughes of the Archdiocese of New Orleans (retired in 2009) published “Made in the Image and Likeness of God”: A Pastoral Letter on Racial Harmony. Near the beginning of the letter, he relates his belief that the continued existence of African American parishes is important for “the development of black Catholic identity, community, leadership, liturgy, and spirituality.”51 Hughes’s belief may be a result of his experience of deciding to merge St. Augustine Parish with a neighboring parish. News of the merger resulted in a sit-in from some parishioners, community activists, and aid workers. St. Augustine refers to itself as the oldest African American Catholic parish in the United States and the protestors felt the archbishop had not properly consulted with the parishioners. Hughes reconsidered his decision, especially in light of the black population of the parish, and the parish remained open.52

For Hughes, racism is “both a personal sin and a social disorder.”53 He grounds his understanding of racial justice in Vatican II, other Vatican documents, and the documents of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, as well as the heroic witness of black Catholics from the Archdiocese of New Orleans. Chief among these witnesses is Henriette Delille, a free black woman who dedicated her life to educating the enslaved.54 In addition, Hughes references Homer Plessy, who lost the Supreme Court case Plessy v. Ferguson; A. P. Tureaud, who has been called the dean of the New Orleans black civil rights attorneys; and others. Hughes notes that those who worked for racial justice, whether black or white, often suffered severe consequences.55

Hughes develops the ideas of beauty and harmony to illustrate the importance of recognizing racial diversity in the Catholic Church. He also conveys the need to address the problem of white privilege in relation to the disadvantages faced by people of color. In the end, however, he does not assign any significant role for black Catholics.56 This is surprising, since earlier in the document he raises up examples of black Catholics who performed acts of agitation, including those at one of his own churches. Ultimately, there is a disconnect in the document between the great black Catholic witnesses of the Archdiocese of New Orleans and the proposed solutions to contemporary manifestations of racism.

Vatican Documents

Within the last thirty years, the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace has published two documents dealing with racism: The Church and Racism: Toward a More Fraternal Society and Contribution to the World Conference against Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia, and Related Intolerance. The Church and Racism, issued in 1988, is similar to most American thought on racism, as it grounds its teaching against racism in the belief that every person is created in God’s image and every person is offered redemption through the Paschal Mystery.57 The document conveys the strong institutional aspect of racism and the complicity of Church members at certain times. It also introduces an image that is not present in American documents—Pentecost. Unexpectedly, instead of employing the Pentecost event as an opportunity to express the gift that diversity could bring to the Church, the document cites this event as a call to regard all “ethnic, cultural, national, social, and other divisions . . . [as] obsolete.”58 Later on, the document does point out “the diversity and complementarity of one another’s cultural riches and moral qualities,” but this is not grounded doctrinally.59 The Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace describes racism as a type of blasphemy that must be addressed by educational and structural changes on all levels of society that will promote equality for all minority groups and respect for one another’s “cultural and religious characteristics.”60 The document stresses that racism exists in every society and lists two specific instances of racism on the globe: (1) the American situation with African Americans, and (2) South African apartheid, which still existed in 1988. As a document written for a global context that encompasses countless situations of racism, it cannot be critiqued in the same manner as the American documents. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that the statement does not emphasize the importance of a theology from the oppressed or recognize that the oppressed have any sustained role in confronting racism. The recognized agents in society to confront racism are seen primarily as the Church and the state.61

The Contribution to the World Conference against Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia, and Related Intolerance was issued for the United Nations conference of the same name in Durban, South Africa, in late summer 2001. The document begins by citing the rise in ethnic violence since 1988, as well as the increasing gap between rich and poor. It asks for a “purification of memory,” in which the oppressed are to be “guided by the spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation,” while at the same time making sure that the past is not covered up, but revealed.62 In other words, this is not a case of “forgive and forget,” but rather a case of being keenly aware of what actions and responsible parties are being forgiven so that deficient structural realities can be repaired. Following this line of thought, the document supports the options of reparations and affirmative action as tools to correct past injustices to the greatest extent possible. The document also recommends the proper role for the Church, state, and media in aiding the poor and protecting basic human rights, with a stress on access to education and material needs.63 Although the document clearly denounces the evil of racism, it does not address the gifts that the oppressed can bring to a discussion of racism or the rich diversity that their cultural backgrounds can bring to the world. In addition, it does not allot any significant role to the oppressed in working toward their liberation other than forgiveness. Although a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation is an essential aspect of a society trying to heal past injustices, this spirit will not prevent current or future injustices. Regarding how the oppressed should address current injustices, the document is silent.

Summary of the First Section

If “What We Have Seen and Heard” is removed from the first section, the result is a rather monolithic response to racism. The authors in this section ground their theology of racial justice not only in traditional European Catholic doctrines, but also a traditional European understanding of these doctrines, and thus all state that the most important action that one can perform in the cause of racial justice is moral suasion. With the publication of The National Race Crisis in 1968, there was room for structural responses to racism, but these always took on a secondary role—particularly in practice. Although The National Race Crisis mentioned Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., it was not informed by his thought. The inclusion of African American Catholic sources began with Brothers and Sisters to Us, but the document lacks any substantial role for African Americans and implicitly assumes white Catholics to be its primary audience. These deficiencies could be attributed to an almost exclusive use of hierarchical sources as well as Catholic social teaching’s almost exclusive reliance on moral suasion for the resolution of injustices and emphasis on substantial change proceeding from those in power instead of from those being oppressed. The limiting of sources to hierarchical statements prevents innovation when searching for a solution to an injustice that Catholic social teaching has not been able to adequately address.

On the other hand, “What We Have Seen and Heard” was informed by African American Catholic sources, with final editorial control in the hands of the African American Catholic bishops. Black Catholics were its target audience, for whom the bishops saw a meaningful role in the field of racial justice and evangelization. Additionally, it asserted that African American spirituality had significant value that could augment traditional European Catholic thought. As the letter’s primary purpose was evangelization, its analysis of racism itself was not in-depth. Nevertheless, “What We Have Seen and Heard” displayed a pronounced break with the traditional paradigm found in Catholic racial justice and is more representative of what will be found in the second section.

The Sustained Use of Black Agency and Experience

James H. Cone

Almost every current Catholic theologian who writes about racial justice is deeply influenced by the work of James H. Cone, who professes a need and urgency for African American sources and black agency. Cone is considered to be the founder of black liberation theology and his thought is still prominent today. Cone’s Black Theology and Black Power was the first book in the world published on liberation theology in 1969, and his thought has continued to develop over the past forty years.64 The section will begin with Cone’s critique of white churches and Eurocentric theology, followed by his thesis on the necessity of African American sources and black agency within a theological framework of racial justice.

In 2000, Cone was invited by Theological Studies, the flagship journal of U.S. Catholic theology, to write an article about racism and the Catholic Church. As Shawn Copeland observed, this was only the second time in twenty-five years that an entire issue of Theological Studies was dedicated to a “specific paradigm shift in theology”; the previous instance was a 1975 issue of the journal devoted to feminist theory.65 At the beginning of the article, Cone frankly states that white Protestant churches, along with the Catholic Church in America, are “racist institutions whose priests, ministers, and theologians seem to think that White supremacy offers no serious contradiction to their understanding of the Christian faith.”66 He perceives a reality that he also detected when he wrote an article about Catholic racism almost twenty years earlier—that white Catholic theologians are “virtually silent” about the issue of racism and its permeation of society.67 This omission in white theology, Cone contends, illustrates the disdain that white theologians have for black thought and weakens all subsequent theological conclusions to a level that is racist and irrelevant.68 White theology’s silence regarding racism and its omission of black voices results in the dehumanization of blacks. Furthermore, Cone remarks that it is difficult for African Americans to take the many excellent social justice teachings of the Catholic Church seriously when those teachings are so neglectful of racism. He specifically comments on the “contradiction” required of black Catholics in order to remain in a racist Church. Black Catholics who want to affirm their blackness must “refuse to accept European values as the exclusive definition of the Catholic Church,” even though those values have been and still are the modus operandi for constructing Catholic belief and practice.69

In light of the poor track record of white churches with eliminating racism, Cone insists that whites have no role to play in deciding if the elimination of racism has been suitably addressed. That role is reserved for blacks, who endure the evil of racism. Another problem with white European theology is its assumed objectivity and universalism. Cone argues that Jesus was not a universal human being, but an oppressed Jew.70 Cone maintains that Jesus did not come to be everything for everybody, but primarily as a liberator for the oppressed. To illustrate this point, Cone frequently cites Luke 4:18–19,71 in which Jesus unrolls a scroll from the prophet Isaiah in his home synagogue in Nazareth, stating, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”72 Essentially, Jesus is bad news for the rich, because the kingdom of God is for “the poor alone.”73

Notwithstanding the myriad problems associated with a Eurocentric theology and white churches, Cone believes there is a role for whites in black liberation. For instance, Cone commends white abolitionists for their work to end slavery, but he is critical of their omission of black sources and the perception that black freedom could be secured through legal means alone. These weaknesses need to be rectified. Cone believes that white theologians can have a role to play in black liberation, if they are willing to reorder their theological priorities according to an African American cultural viewpoint.74

The history of African American churches is an integral source for Cone’s black theology, and the original reasons that African Americans separated from white churches are still pertinent today. Blacks separated from white churches during the age of slavery because of the unwillingness of white churches to condemn slavery as well as the outright support that was often shown for this terrible institution. In contrast, black churches were almost unanimous in their stance against slavery. Separation from white churches was concretized in the 1787 in Philadelphia, when Richard Allen, Absalom Jones, and other blacks walked out of St. George Methodist Church. In 1816, Richard Allen became the first bishop for the African Methodist Episcopal Church. In the South, blacks often met in underground churches to discuss their dignity and the struggle for liberation as found in Jesus Christ. In the 1770s, the first Baptist church organized by slaves was founded in Silver Bluff, South Carolina. These churches, along with other African American churches, were important institutions in working for the freedom of blacks before and after the dissolution of slavery.75 Cone asserts that the black church narrative has proven that integrated churches, during slavery and since, were essentially white churches that limited the work of liberation for African Americans and led blacks into a place of compromise. Additionally, Cone concludes that contemporary integrated churches continue to exhibit an inability to confront white supremacy by their lack of black sources and their virtual silence on the issue of racism.76

In 1970, Cone proclaimed that white theology, which is informed from a place of privilege, is inadequate to define theology. Talk about God’s work in the world can only be known from the experience, writings, and freedom struggles found among blacks.77 Cone’s argument has not changed significantly between 1970 and today, although he recently stated that his stance had softened slightly because he had received additional insights on gender and class and become more aware of the broader scope of the Bible. Despite this softening, Cone still firmly believes that “the God of biblical faith and black religion is partial toward the weak.”78 According to this perspective, black Christians must start not with the Bible but with the black experience, which Cone designates as “a black tradition of struggle.” The Bible is an indispensable source for Christian thought, but it is secondary to the black experience of oppression. It is only through the lens of oppression that the Bible can meaningfully speak to the liberation that God is enacting in contemporary situations.79 Theology that does not have its starting point in the poor can be only a close-minded ideology.80

For well over forty years, Cone has persistently stated that African American sources and black agency are essential for achieving racial justice within societal and ecclesial realms. Any Christian theology that lacks these two ingredients cannot properly be called theology since it does not take seriously God’s central work of liberation in the United States in the twenty-first century. Whites can play a role in liberation if they are willing to give preference to African American sources and the notion of black agency in their theologies. The theologians below, whether black or white, have all been influenced by Cone’s call to make black theology a priority.

M. Shawn Copeland

M. Shawn Copeland, unlike the other Catholic theologians I am examining, is a systematic theologian, as opposed to a moral theologian. As such, her emphasis is on formulating a coherent framework of the Catholic faith that accounts for racism, as opposed to proposing a theology of racism along with adequate responses. She retrieves the stories of black men and women for the purpose of putting forth a more accurate synthesis of Christian belief and practice. For Copeland, who is African American, the reality of Jesus Christ in the flesh paved the way for making use of black bodies as a theological resource. The embodied spirituality of Jesus has anthropological ramifications that can be further identified in the suffering of others.81 Not being an ethicist, she rarely examines either the structural or systemic underpinnings of racism, though she is cognizant of this aspect of racism. Her understanding of racial justice is grounded in the doctrines of the Trinity and the imago Dei: “The creativity of the Triune God is manifested in differences of gender, race, and sexuality.”82 Racism, and particularly the enslavement of black women, is “the attempt to degrade the imago Dei . . . through commodifying, objectifying, and sexually violating black women’s bodies.”83 The tortured and mutilated body of Jesus Christ on the cross, which has eerie similarities to the lynching tree, should jolt Christians out of their stupor and awake them to the plight of African Americans.84

Copeland submits two requisite steps to address racism and oppression: (1) anamnesis, or remembering the stories of the oppressed, and (2) solidarity. Through the mindful knowing of the oppressed, Christians will realize how the situation contradicts the Christian message and be moved to compassion. This compassion should elicit concrete acts of solidarity, which she defines as taking on “responsibility” for the oppressed at a personal risk. Actions of solidarity are a meaningful modus operandi for following and imitating Christ. In other words, “a praxis of solidarity for human liberation . . . make[s] the mystical body of Christ publicly visible in our situation.”85 For Copeland, the mystical body of Christ has interpersonal, ecclesial, and soteriological implications that she believes speak doctrinally to her notion of solidarity.86

Copeland is the author of a short book on the life and vision of Henriette Delille (1812–1862), which she originally delivered as the 2007 Madeleva Lecture in Spirituality. Delille, who could very well become the first American-born black saint, was the founder of a religious order for black women, the Sisters of the Holy Family, around 1842 (they were originally known as the Sisters of the Presentation).87 Copeland’s introduction to Delille occurred in 2004, when Archbishop Hughes of New Orleans appointed Copeland to sit on a theological commission to evaluate Delille’s writings. She found in Delille an example of a black woman “acting as a moral agent, who, through discernment and prayer, intellectual and moral acumen, resourcefulness and, often, resistance, exercises her essential freedom in order to realize the integrity of her life.”88 As a free black woman in New Orleans, Delille was expected to participate in the extralegal system of plaçage, in which free black women became mistresses of white men of means. Instead, she “exposed the timidity of the church” by founding a religious order that dedicated itself to the education of free black people and slaves.89 In Delille, Copeland recognizes a black woman who did not “submit to ecclesiastical indifference . . . [but rather] exercised her intelligence, creativity, and moral agency in a preferential option for despised enslaved blacks, the poor, aged, and infirm . . . [following] the path took [by] Jesus of Nazareth to the outcast, marginalized, and poor.”90

Copeland pieces together a theological portrait of Delille by combining her few writings with her lived “praxis.”91 Delille wrote of her desire to “live and die for God”; according to Copeland, religious life provided Delille with the “liberative” avenue to avoid plaçage and dedicate her life to God as well as to free and enslaved people of color.92 Copeland argues that religion was the impetus for a “crucial mediation of black personal and communal transformation,” leading Delille “to the possibilities of self-transcendence in the midst of the direst circumstances.”93 By choosing religious life, Delille chose a degree of autonomy and self-determination over her own body for the purpose of giving priority to her spiritual life. For Copeland, the experiences of Delille point to the reality that “Christian witness demands an engagement with bodies, not their denial; a struggle with history, not surrender to it.”94 Within this context, she expands the definition of experience to include “the differentiated range and interconnections of black women’s religious, racial, cultural, sexual, legal, and social (i.e., political and economic) experience.”95 Copeland’s book on Delille has similarities to this book, but her project was more focused on the aim of demonstrating the contribution that Delille could make to systematic theology instead of Christian ethics.

Retrieval of African American sources is integral to Copeland’s theological project as well as her analysis of white supremacy and privilege. She argues that only by exposing the ugly reality of racism to the light of day will Christians be moved to adequately realize the evil of racism and be provoked to oppose it. Within her theology of racial justice, she utilizes the horrific, inspiring, and faithful lives of African Americans—particularly women—to inform and expand the understanding of many traditional Catholic doctrines. Although she offers no explicit role for African Americans in confronting racism today, it was not the purpose of her project to suggest specific responses to racism for whites or blacks. Instead, she remembers the stories of many brave African American women from the past in order to inspire all Catholics to acknowledge and reflect on racial injustice in their own context and to follow the example of Christ in living a practice of active solidarity.

Bryan N. Massingale

Bryan N. Massingale, who is the only black Catholic ethicist that I will examine, has published multiple articles on racism, and in 2010 he published a comprehensive book on the issue, Racial Justice and the Catholic Church. Massingale wrote his dissertation on the social dimensions of sin and reconciliation in the theology of James Cone and Gustavo Gutiérrez. He believes that “there is a valuable and essential contribution that the black experience—the experience of creating meaning and possibility in the midst of the crushing ordinariness of American racism—can make to Catholic faith and theology.”96 Since racism is in some manner connected to practically every justice issue in the United States and is still largely ignored by Catholic theologians, Catholic theology regarding justice has been decisively compromised and, by default, rendered inadequate.97 In a 1997 article, Massingale examined Theological Studies and the Proceedings from the Catholic Theological Society of America dating from the 1940s to the present. He observed the absence of interest regarding racial justice in their regular summaries on important trends and publications in moral theology. As he poignantly pointed out, one would not be aware of the civil rights movement from these sources. When racism was addressed in the theological realm, blacks were often treated as objects of white study, analysis, and charity. In other words, African Americans were rarely seen as agents capable of independent action to better their own situation.98

Massingale’s understanding of racism is largely informed by Bernard Lonergan’s theory of culture. According to Lonergan, “a culture is simply a set of meanings and values that inform the way of life of a community.”99 For Massingale, racism refers to a set of meanings and values “attached to skin color,” and “a way of interpreting skin color differences that pervades the collective convictions, conventions, and practices of American life.”100 Understanding racism as a cultural phenomenon is a key component of Massingale’s thought and is viewed as a necessary way in which to understand racism if one hopes to confront it effectively. As Lonergan stated, “Culture stands to social order as soul to body.”101 Massingale, after incorporating the work of Lonergan, regards culture as a shared group reality that is learned, shapes the identity of a community, and is expressed symbolically.102

Massingale asserts that culture manifests itself in the structural realities of a society. As a result, the American culture of racism and white privilege has produced such atrocities as slavery, Plessy v. Ferguson (1896), and the exclusion of domestic and agricultural workers (mostly non-white) from the Social Security Act of 1935. These structural manifestations of racism prevented African Americans from acquiring wealth and security in old age, which whites were able to obtain and pass on to their posterity. Consequently, the inequalities of the distant and recent past continue to affect the lives of blacks today. For there to be any reasonable expectation of legitimate redress, American Catholic ethical reflection must espouse structural and systemic approaches to challenge racism. Since culture pervades our society, racism will be eradicated from our culture only when it is seen as “contrary or foreign” to a deeper and more important “cultural ethos.”103 Massingale posits that authentic religious faith can provide a more foundational cultural ethos that can overcome the cultural bedrock on which structural forms of racism are grounded. Racial reconciliation, which is the objective of racial justice, should not result in “the elimination of racial differences, but rather the elimination of the stigma and privilege associated with race.”104

In Racial Justice and the Catholic Church, Massingale presents two aspects of African American culture that can augment Catholic social teaching’s concept of distributive justice: the welcome table and the beloved community. These images champion freedom and justice for all persons and all peoples, and offer a formidable threat to the problems of racism, war, and poverty.105 These images are both biblical and require less extrapolation than the regularly used doctrines to promote racial justice: the Fatherhood of God and the Paschal Mystery.

In his 2010 presidential address to the Catholic Theological Society of America, Massingale enlisted Malcolm X as a resource for Catholic theological reflection on racism. Bringing Malcolm into dialogue with Catholic ethics permits Massingale to create an ethical system that is both “authentically black and truly Catholic.”106 One aspect of Malcolm’s thought that Massingale believes still needs to be addressed today is “a profound inner wounding” and demoralization that plagues African Americans.107 This wounding requires healing through “cultural recovery and celebration,” which is often absent in American society and in white churches. Additionally, Massingale incorporates Malcolm in order to illustrate the benefit of bringing African American thought into Catholic ethical dialogue—even that of African Americans who are not always “considered tame or acceptable”(i.e., activists more controversial than Martin Luther King Jr.).108

Essentially, Massingale attests to the need for U.S. Catholic ethicists to “adopt a more structural and systemic approach to racism, one that views this evil primarily as a cultural phenomenon, a culture of White advantage, privilege, and dominance that has derivative personal, interpersonal, and institutional manifestations.”109 The Catholic community can play an integral role in promoting structural changes while at the same time integrating African American practices into its liturgical life, which can address the foundational cultural elements of racism. For Massingale, the retrieval of black sources and the inclusion of the black experience are necessary as a corrective for Catholic racial justice. Although specific recommendations for black agency are more implied than spelled out in his publications, Massingale’s dialogue with African American spirituality and the thought of Malcolm X, as well as his own work to combat racism, evidence the role of black agency in his ethical system.

Jon Nilson

Jon Nilson is arguably the white Catholic theologian most interested in retrieval of black sources and the concept of black agency. His book Hearing past the Pain begins by contrasting the insightful theology of a group of illiterate black slaves during the nineteenth century with that of a scholarly bishop who promoted slavery. The example illustrates for Nilson that all the rich learning and tradition found in the Roman Catholic faith has not prevented the Catholic Church in America from being a racist institution. Nilson avows that the problem with white Catholic theologians is their blindness to contemporary forms of racism and white privilege. He ponders how this can be the case when many of these same theologians have no problem noticing and addressing anti-Semitism, sexism, and classism, even when they are not members of the groups most directly affected. According to Nilson, the racism of white Catholic theologians has taken two forms: (1) ignoring the issue of racism “as a fundamental contradiction of the gospel,” and (2) “marginalizing black theology.”110 Catholic thought on racism must be inclusive of African American thought because no theology is universal or relatively adequate for all times, places, and issues. Nilson takes his own advice to heart by ensuring that his book is imbued with the thought of African Americans, whether they are Catholic or non-Catholic. His black sources include James Baldwin, the black bishops of the United States, Stephen L. Carter, James Cone, Shawn Copeland, Ellis Cose, Cyprian Davis, W. E. B. Du Bois, James H. Evans, Diana L. Hayes, Dwight N. Hopkins, Bryan Massingale, Stephanie Y. Mitchem, Jamie T. Phelps, Cornel West, and Gayraud S. Wilmore. I provide this incomplete list of his African American sources to show that Nilson’s inclusion of black sources is not superficial. Incorporating black thought is particularly important for Nilson, since “most of us [white] Catholic theologians have some vision problems that need correction before we can find the common ground necessary for engagement with black theologians.”111 In a previous article, entitled “Confessions of a White Catholic Racist Theologian,” Nilson stated, “I am a racist insofar as I rarely read and never cited any black theologians in my own publications.”112 Obviously, Nilson has changed his scholarly practices.

Taking his cue from Cone, Nilson wants to underscore that racism should be viewed not as a type of sin, but as a heresy: “Sin does not threaten the integrity of the church, as heresy does.”113 Viewing racism as heretical shines a light on the incompatibility of racism with Christianity as well as the lack of tolerance that it deserves—unlike many sins for which we are asked to be patient with the sinner. Nilson sympathizes with his heretical peers, noting his belief that “Catholic theologians’ horizons are limited not by bad will or a deliberate turning away from light, but from a lack of development in authenticity.”114 Nevertheless, without the aid of black sources, Catholic theology is lacking from the start. In other words: “Black theology is not a luxury or a hobby for white Catholic theologians. It is indispensable to their vocation and identity.”115 Employing a liberationist ethic, Nilson insists that theology must begin with those who are considered non-persons in society.116 Nilson relays a quote from Cone at the end of his book, which puts the above sentiment into action: “One of the most important things whites can do in fighting white supremacy is to support black empowerment in the society, church and theology.”117

In a 2010 article, Nilson used Martin Luther King Jr.’s image of the Beloved Community to write about the Church’s role in confronting racism. Nilson understands this notion in King as pointing to “both the fulfillment of the American dream and the actualization of the Kingdom of God, a society where all live lives that befit their dignity as children of God; a society where everyone is accepted, everyone belongs.”118 Nilson then provides concrete examples of how the Beloved Community is not being actualized in American society or the Catholic Church. Across the United States, it is the norm to see the closing of diocesan offices dedicated to black Catholics. If anything, resources need to be rededicated to confronting racism on the diocesan and parish level. In order to take King’s image seriously, Nilson wishes there were diocesan plans that “intentionally fostered interracial communities and neighborhoods.”119

Without a doubt, Nilson’s work is permeated with the thoughts and ideas of African American intellectuals and theologians. He is well read in black sources and familiar with the history of slavery, Jim Crow, racism, and black theology in the United States. That said, while his thought offers advice and admonitions to white theologians and Catholics, it rarely provides any proper role for African Americans in securing their own liberation. Nevertheless, Nilson’s omission here is certainly due to humility and not to an accidental oversight. As someone who considers himself an apprentice to African American thinkers, Nilson does not deem himself qualified to give advice to blacks. This is why he quotes Cone’s advice to white Catholics, telling them that their best role in fighting racism is to be supportive of black empowerment.120

Summary of the Second Section

All the theologians I’ve discussed in the second half of this chapter are imbued with a sense that black agency and the use of African American sources are essential for any racial justice project. In addition, Cone plays a critical role in the thought of all the Catholic theologians, and it is difficult to imagine what their theology would look like without the inspiration they have received from Cone. Nevertheless, while Cone is suspicious of any interracial project, his Catholic peers, black and white alike, cannot comprehend a Catholic racial justice framework that is not interracial. In other words, while Cone is not at all troubled by the prospect of leaving whites behind who are roadblocks on the path to racial justice, the Catholic theologians never consider this as an option in their writings. For example, Massingale clearly laments and agonizes over the racist attitudes entrenched in the mindset of much of the Catholic laity and even among the American bishops, but he continues to dialogue with and challenge white Catholics.121

Placing an importance on African American sources and the black experience in the United States means that examinations of racism must begin with the suffering that is experienced by blacks. This experience, which is usually augmented with data from the social sciences, converses with traditional theological doctrines in order to permit fresh and relevant theological insights into the problem of racism.122 The theology in the second section is almost as much a historical project as an ethical project. Moreover, the inclusion of historical scholarship demonstrates the benefit and necessity of black agency. The stories of black struggle and survival brought to light by these theologians illustrate the powerful role that African Americans can and must play in their own liberation.

Conclusion

The contrast between the first and second sections of this chapter reveals the necessity and practicality of creating a racial justice framework that embraces African American sources and promotes black agency. The theological framework of the second half of the chapter began with racial injustice as its starting point in order to properly diagnose the evil. The theological framework of the first section of the chapter was more theoretical, less concrete, and less relevant to the all too common injustices that are faced by African Americans. Therefore, the solutions for addressing racism—such as calls for state and Church intervention, for patience and forgiveness to be practiced by African Americans, and for whites to be more kind and intentional in their actions toward blacks—were often theoretical and impractical.

Even if it could be argued that the decades of writings by LaFarge and the issuance in 1958 of Discrimination and the Christian Conscience laid the groundwork for Catholic involvement in the civil rights movement, it was the witness and actions of African Americans that inspired white Catholics to support or join the movement. The American bishops admit in Brothers and Sisters to Us that Catholic involvement in the civil rights movement had its impetus in African American thought and action.123

Cone is also very frank in his belief that black liberation can brought about only by African Americans. Cone’s historical narrative of black and white churches illustrates how white churches have repeatedly compromised their Christian values in regard to white supremacy. Even the African American bishops of the United States candidly wrote that black Catholics must “demand” recognition and leadership roles to aid the Catholic Church in eradicating racism.124 Copeland’s retrieval of Henriette Delille, a figure who shamed the greater society and the local Catholic Church of her time period with her aid to fellow blacks, is another reminder of the constant failure of white clerics and laity to address white supremacy in the United States.

In the writings of the theologians of the second section, there is an emphasis on the positive—and integral—role that black retrieval can have in deepening our comprehension of the mysteries of the Christian faith as well as in producing efficacious ethical formulations based on these mysteries. The profound experience of suffering and injustice that plagues the African American experience is invaluable as a resource for understanding hope in dire circumstances as well as the Christian necessity to reject any notion that racial injustice is willed by God. The very use of the black experience affirms the dignity and respect that the authors have for African Americans. This respect is completely absent in LaFarge. At best, LaFarge’s omission of black sources represents his lack of creativity; at worst, it represents a form of racism that does not deem the black experience as worthy of retrieval or having anything important to offer. Massingale’s emphasis on the elimination of racial stigma and racial privilege instead of racial differences is very different from the viewpoint offered by LaFarge, which focused solely on the ontological equality of the races and dismissed any type of cultural equality.

The survey performed in this chapter on the state of Catholic social thought regarding racial justice in the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries clearly indicates the necessity for continued retrieval of African American narratives to aid the Church in more adequately confronting white supremacy. In addition, Cone asserts that white theologians, like me, can play a role in black freedom if they are willing to reorder their theological priorities according to an African American cultural viewpoint.125 As a forgotten black Catholic who dedicated his life to fighting racial injustice, Dr. Arthur G. Falls is an indispensable resource for those wishing to improve on contemporary Catholic racial thought. Therefore, the next chapter will narrate the life of Falls, and chapter 3 will critique his writings.

1. Nilson, Hearing past the Pain, 31. The FCC will be mentioned only briefly here; the focus in this section will be the theology and praxis of LaFarge. The FCC will be addressed more concretely in the next two chapters through Arthur’s involvement with the organization.

2. Southern, John LaFarge, 362.

3. Massingale, Racial Justice, 47–50.

4. Nilson, Hearing past the Pain, 32. The organization eventually became known as the Catholic Interracial Council. Markoe would leave the organization in the fall of 1935. Nickels, Black Catholic Protest, 206.

5. Southern, John LaFarge, 361.

6. John LaFarge, Interracial Justice, 152–61, 172. Emphasis in the original.

7. LaFarge, The Race Question and the Negro, 84.

8. LaFarge, Interracial Justice, 179–87.

9. Southern, John LaFarge, 358.

10. LaFarge, Catholic Viewpoint on Race Relations, 31, 64.

11. Ibid., 71–73.

12. Southern, John LaFarge, 366. For more information on moral suasion in the papal encyclical tradition, see Berrera, “The Evolution of Social Ethics”; Brady, Goodpaster, and Kennedy, “Rerum Novarum and the Modern Corporation”; and Francoeur, “In Pursuit of a Living Wage.”

13. Cronin, “Religion and Race,” 472; McGreevy, Parish Boundaries, 90–91.

14. National Catholic Welfare Conference, Discrimination and the Christian Conscience, 192.

15. Ibid.

16. Massingale, Racial Justice, 56–58; Report of the National Advisory Committee, 91–93. The Kerner Report was the popular name for the Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, which President Lyndon B. Johnson requested of a blue-ribbon citizen commission in the wake of dozens of riots in the summer of 1967. The two largest riots were in Detroit and Newark. All together, the riots resulted in close to $100 million in damage and eighty-four deaths.

17. National Conference of Catholic Bishops, National Race Crisis, 175, 178.

18. Ibid., 176.

19. Honey, Going Down Jericho Road, 175; Report of the National Advisory Committee, 229–65.

20. King, quoted in Honey, Going Down Jericho Road, 186–87.

21. Honey, Going Down Jericho Road, 175.

22. Engel, “The Influence of Saul Alinsky,” 651; National Race Crisis, 176–78; Honey, Going Down Jericho Road, 186.

23. Honey, Going Down Jericho Road, 186.

24. John McCarthy, quoted in Engel, “Influence of Saul Alinsky,” 651.

25. “Bishop John E. McCarthy,” Diocese of Austin Website.

26. McCarthy, quoted in Jennings, Daring to Seek Justice, 4–5.

27. Jennings, Daring to Seek Justice, 5. I contacted both the Catholic University of America and an archivist with the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, but neither could locate the supporting document.

28. Massingale, Racial Justice, 60.

29. Jennings, Daring to Seek Justice, 8–78.

30. National Conference of Catholic Bishops, Brothers and Sisters to Us, 1–2, 14. Bryan Massingale notes that black Catholics played an “integral part” in Call to Action and raised awareness concerning racism to their fellow Catholics. Massingale, Racial Justice, 63.

31. Brothers and Sisters to Us, 3, 5.

32. Ibid., 8, 11–14.

33. Davis, interview by author.

34. Brothers and Sisters to Us, 11.

35. Massingale, Racial Justice, 66–67.

36. Davis, interview by author; Massingale, Racial Justice, 75; Black Bishops of the United States, “What We Have Seen and Heard.” References to this document refer to the page numbers.

37. Brothers and Sisters to Us, 11–13.

38. “What We Have Seen and Heard”, 1.

39. Ibid., 8–16. Harriet Tubman (d. 1913) is most famous for aiding dozens of slaves to freedom after escaping slavery herself. Mary McLeod Bethune (d. 1955) was a prominent educator and businesswoman from Florida who founded the National Council of Negro Women in 1932. Mother Theodore Williams (d. 1931) established the Franciscan Handmaids of the Most Pure Heart of Mary in 1917, an African American religious order with the purpose of providing education for black children. Elizabeth Lange (d. 1882) was the founder and first superior of the first order of African American women in history, the Oblate Sisters of Providence. Henriette Delille will be covered below during the discussion of Shawn Copeland’s writings.

40. “What We Have Seen and Heard”, 20–34.

41. Massingale, interview by author.

42. “What We Have Seen and Heard”, 34–36.

43. Massingale, “James Cone,” 724.

44. George, Dwell in My Love, Acknowledgments. This page is not numbered.

45. Ibid., 14–15.

46. Ibid., 23–27.

47. Melczek, Created in God’s Image, Opening Letter, 1–2, 27–28, 29–34, 41.

48. Fredal, “A Catholic Diocese’s Initiative to End Racism,” 188.

49. Ibid., 187.

50. Flynn, In God’s Image, no paragraph or page numbers.

51. Hughes, “Made in the Image of God,” 4.

52. Ibid., 5; St. Augustine’s website is: http://www.staugustinecatholicchurch-neworleans.org/. Regarding this event, see also, Peter Finney, Jr., “Archbishop Reopens New Orleans Church After Dispute is Resolved,” Catholic News Service, 10 April 2006, http://www.catholicnews.com/data/stories/cns/0602073.htm; Associated Press, “New Orleans Black Parish Faces Uncertain Future,” MSNBC.com, 13 March 2006, http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11811002/ns/us_news-life/.

53. Hughes, “Made in the Image of God,” 5.

54. In 1988, the cause for sainthood began for Delille. In March 2010, Pope Benedict declared that she had lived a life of “heroic virtues,” which is one step before beatification and two steps before sainthood can be declared. She could very well become the first African American saint.

55. Hughes, “Made in the Image of God”, 7–9, 13–16.

56. Ibid., 12, 18, 22–28.

57. Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, The Church and Racism, 1,9, 22.

58. Ibid., 22.

59. Ibid., 23.

60. Ibid., 24–30.

61. Ibid., 24–33.

62. Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, Contribution to World Conference Against Racism, 3, 8–11.

63. Ibid., 12–18. This document uses the terms affirmative action and positive discrimination interchangeably.

64. Hopkins, “Introduction,” 3–4.

65. Copeland, “Guest Editorial,” 603.

66. Cone, “Black Liberation Theology and Black Catholics,” 731.

67. Ibid.; Cone, Speaking the Truth, 52.

68. Cone, “Black Liberation Theology and Black Catholics,” 737.

69. Cone, Speaking the Truth, 55–57, 60.

70. Cone, Black Theology of Liberation, 13, 91. This book was first published in 1970 and, as Cone notes, the only changes he made to the book are a few stylistic changes and the omission of sexist language (p. xx).

71. Cone, Black Theology of Liberation, 3; Speaking the Truth, v, 123; God of the Oppressed, 69, 159–60.

72. All scripture citations are from the New American Bible.

73. Cone, God of the Oppressed, 71–72. Emphasis in the original.

74. Ibid., 45–46. It appears that this is the white theologian’s way of “becoming black with God,” which requires that one share the oppression of African Americans and engage in the work of liberation. Cone, Black Theology of Liberation, 69.

75. Cone, God of the Oppressed, 141; Cone, Speaking the Truth, 91–96, 130–37. Unfortunately, Cone does not give sources for his historical retelling. It seems that he has internalized this history from various sources. As an ordained minister in the African Methodist Episcopal Church, Cone initially became familiar with the basic origins of African American churches in America through pastors in his own church. It seems that at some point after his ordination he took time to familiarize himself with this history at a much deeper level. This personal study was also necessary because he believed his formal education was too exclusively grounded in Eurocentric theology. Cone, “Preface to the 1989 Edition,” Black Theology and Black Power, xi–xii; Cone, My Soul Looks Back, 71–72, 80, 84–85.

76. Cone, God of the Oppressed, 141, 221; Speaking the Truth, 91–96, 130–37; “Black Liberation Theology and Black Catholics,” 731–47.

77. Cone, Black Theology of Liberation, 129–30.

78. Cone, “Preface to the 1997 Edition,” God of the Oppressed, xi.

79. Ibid., xi-xii.

80. Cone, God of the Oppressed, 87.

81. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 55–84. As she also states, the oppressed “body of Jesus of Nazareth impels us to place the bodies of the victims of history at the center of theological anthropology, to turn to ‘other’ subjects.” Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 84.

82. Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom, 2, 109–10.

83. Ibid., 4, 23–29.

84. Ibid., 121–24.

85. Ibid., 100–101, 105. It is unclear how solidarity is practiced by women of color. Copeland’s description of practicing solidarity seems to assume that one is not a woman of color.

86. Ibid., 101–05.

87. Copeland, Subversive Power of Love, 30, 58; Glatz, “Pope Brings African-American Foundress One Step Closer to Sainthood.”

88. Copeland, Subversive Power of Love, 2, 8.

89. Ibid., 33.

90. Ibid., 66.

91. Ibid., 2.

92. Delille, quoted in Copeland, Subversive Power of Love, 27–28; Copeland, Subversive Power of Love, 10–11.

93. Copeland, Subversive Power of Love, 8.

94. Ibid., 55, 57.

95. Ibid., 8.

96. Massingale, Racial Justice, ix.

97. Ibid., x.

98. Massingale, “The African American Experience,” 79–101.

99. Bernard Lonergan, quoted in Massingale, Racial Justice, 16. This quote is from Lonergan, A Second Collection, 232.

100. Massingale, Racial Justice, 1–2.

101. Lonergan, quoted in Massingale, Racial Justice, 16. This quote is from Lonergan, A Second Collection, 102.

102. Massingale, Racial Justice, 16–17.

103. Ibid., 34, 37–42.

104. Ibid., 85, 90.

105. Ibid., 137–43.

106. Massingale, “Vox Victimarum Vox Dei,” 63.

107. Ibid., 67–68.

108. Ibid., 71, 81.

109. Massingale, “James Cone and Recent Catholic Episcopal Teaching,” 730.

110. Ibid., 1–5, 9.

111. Ibid., 45, 66.

112. Nilson, “Confessions of a White Catholic,” 18.

113. Nilson, Hearing past the Pain, 68–69.

114. Ibid., 68–69, 73.

115. Ibid., 74–75, 79.

116. Ibid., 83.

117. Cone, quoted in Nilson, Hearing Past the Pain, 94. The quote is originally from Cone, “Theology’s Great Sin,” 13.

118. Nilson, “Towards the ‘Beloved Community’,” 84.

119. Ibid., 90.

120. Nilson, Hearing past the Pain, 94; “Confessions of a White Catholic,” 33.

121. Massingale, Racial Justice, 78–82.

122. Cf. Copeland, “Foundations for Catholic Theology,” 137–39; Copeland, lecture at the Institute for Black Catholic Studies, summer 1994, quoted in Massingale, “Cyprian Davis,” 76.

123. Brothers and Sisters to Us, 11.

124. “What We Have Seen and Heard”, 20.

125. Cone, God of the Oppressed, 46.