Where is Samaria?

There are times when I am afraid to share so openly about my life experiences and the whispers of my heart, because I know that oftentimes what I believe is not accepted in places like Academia. For now I have a home in Johns Hopkins and I am grateful for being in this space. All of my work at the Johns Hopkins Institute for Education Policy is rooted in my desire to create a world where we all experience genuine equity and inclusion. My thoughts on how this is achieved may not always adhere to what Academia (yes that includes Johns Hopkins) would endorse and there are even many Christian organizations and institutions that wrestle with my thoughts on unconditional love for everyone. Even still, I share openly because I do not desire to be in spaces that want me to silence my truest self. In sharing openly, may I find community in this country called America (America is not a church or any other religious organization, but is a place where we should all be able to live in peace) where we are all free to be who we are, Christian or not, Conservative or not, Black or not and together cross over into those Samaritan spaces.

One of the greatest gifts my parents gave to me, was making my brother and I leave the comfort and safety of the Black community, to engage with other communities. My parents were very intentional in making sure my brother and I created consistent connections with the Jewish, Muslim, White, low income, high income, Latino, 2 parent, single parent, gay, straight, Christian, non Christian and many other communities. These were not moments of one time “mission work” but I was raised to build sincere relationships with different types of people. As a family, we made it a regular practice to connect with those people who may be different from us. The girl who regularly did my hair was Muslim and she was always welcome to share her faith with me. As I sat there and she did my hair, she talked openly about her faith, the Quran, and her life. She talked about her journey of leaving the Nation of Islam into being a traditional Muslim and without ever doubting my own Christian faith, she and I developed a bond over our strict commitment to our faith and I even felt challenged to pray more and be more focused on living out my faith with fear and trembling. Even though we disagree on if Jesus is a prophet or GOD, I came to value modesty and faithfulness and that there is joy in the disciplined life to the glory of God (or Allah).

The place where we did most of our weekly grocery shopping was a Jewish grocery store, because my mom felt that their meat was the only meat she could trust in this world. We STILL shop at that grocery store, even though we all live about an hour away from it. From the time I was about 2 years old, until last week, this has been my grocery store. I watched the family who owned it, raise their sons, who took over the store. I saw the mom pass and the dad remarry. The store manager saw me get married and I watched her bright red hair turn greyish gold. One of my dad’s friends and close co-workers was a Jewish dentist and they both taught at Howard University. Even though we disagree on if the Messiah has come or not, I have learned the importance of caring for what goes into my body, a deeper understanding of the old testament and that their ancient texts teach us about the power and beauty of Africa.

After my parents left the COGIC church, they began to spend more time in Evangelical ministries. They eventually let go of Charismatic theology and began to live out a very conservative (not the political one) Christian life. My dad founded our church in our basement and everyone was welcomed. In fact, he refused to be a pastor until one Sunday he took a group of new church members to a local church and they were not allowed into service because they did not “look or dress right.” That is when he decided to officially become a pastor of his own church. Because of that hurt he embraced a more simple faith, which included studying the Bible, singing hymns and letting go of the the pageantry of most organized denominations. He then decided that we would be non-denominational so that all could feel welcomed to worship in one space, even if the theology was a little different. His belief was that the bottom line was Jesus, the Trinity and the saving grace of Jesus Christ. Anything outside of that was just works and even though he respected the different rituals of the Christian faith, he believed that only one thing saves and that is belief in the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ as the way to salvation. This foundational belief is what inspired him to also seek racial healing within the Christian church, because he saw that racism and unforgiveness was tearing it apart. Focusing on the one thing that can bring us together was the key to healing because GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD. Some have wondered why he did not choose a denomination and one main reason is that many denominations are not just separated by theological understanding but they are also separated by race. The White denominations would not support his passion for teaching Black history and social justice, so he started his own church where all voices could be heard and feel welcomed. As a result of this, I grew up going to Black and White Christian conferences. Black and White missionaries stayed in our home, and would share their stories of ministry all over the world. Even though the church was predominately Black, White members and other ethnicities have attended. Through all of our differences, we learned that the family of God should not be divided by the color of our skin. My time with the different ministries, where sometimes only a few of us had brown skin, has taught me that with Jesus at the center, racial healing and unity is possible. This journey has also taught me a basic human truth: even if faith is not the foundation, respecting human life regardless of difference is the key to authentic human relationship. Jesus respected all human beings, as long as the were not hurting others. Jesus has taught me to analyze when my faith is hurtful and the moment my faith hurts others, it is no longer faith, but it is religion. My relationship with God should reflect his unconditional love for EVERYONE.

The schools I went to were all Conservative, White, Christian schools and even though I endured a great deal of intense racism there, my parents refused to pull us out. They wanted us to learn that you cannot escape racism and neither should I allow the hurt from racism cause me to reject them as a people. The journey has been rough, but I would say that this experience has truly shaped who I am. By dwelling in this space, I have learned how to build relationships with those society thinks I should hate. I have learned to forgive. I have learned to make space for hard conversations. In that process, real relationships have formed and not because I am afraid to share or forced to be silent about my experiences as a Black woman, and not because a White person is silent about their perspectives. The relationships have formed out of truth, listening, acceptance, forgiveness, growth and LOVE. The challenge for me has been trying to live out this way of life in predominately White spaces as an adult; on my job, places of worship, and other places. Now, I have learned that when I try to express myself as a Black woman who is experiencing forms of racism and/or White supremacy, I am seen as someone that should be silenced or isolated, but my heart is to bring authentic healing in relationships. Racism will not end without going through that process of walking over into Samaria and having the hard conversations. If people focus more on self-preservation than self-improvement when confronted with these hard conversations then the legacy of racism will continue. I feel strongly about this, because while growing up in the Christian schools, I saw the healing happen. Whenever I get a word of encouragement from a former teacher, classmate, minister or fellow Christian that I grew up with but does NOT share this chocolate skin that I have, I realize that the bond forged through the struggle of wrestling through our different human experiences, was authentic. I cannot help but desire that in my life now. From my experience talking through insensitive comments and actions and from my experience fighting for equity in spaces that taught a racist theology of Black inferiority, I have learned that we have all been scarred by the racist past of America. I have learned that I am not the only victim but we are all suffering from the false narratives that have shaped Christianity in America. I have learned that to heal we have to stop thinking of ourselves as being against one another, but that we must stand together against the demonic presence of racism that still plagues our churches and the country. We must all be humble enough to do the soul work to excavate the cancers of hate, distrust, bitterness, and pride that lie deep within ourselves, sometimes even if it is undetectable. Entering into the hard conversations when those “Samaritans” in our lives make us aware of how our actions and words are offensive or insensitive, we are doing this work. Instead of becoming offended, afraid or unwilling to do the soul work, we all have to be humble if we really want healing to happen.

There are so many other places of Samaria that I have had the blessed opportunity to dwell in, from when I would shadow my mom to tell Bible stories to children in neighborhoods that the world rejects, to when she would pick up those children and bring them to church and to our house to hang out, to when I would mourn at the funeral of my Latino brother from another mother. I am not used to the world that I live in now. I am used to the world Jesus wanted to create when he chose to walk into Samaria to talk to the woman at the well. He was not just demonstrating loving someone who was in “sin”, but he was actually demonstrating the sin of his own community for rejecting those who were different. He went into a place that his community rejected because Samaritans were DIFFERENT. They were seen as inferior because they were different. By him crossing over into Samaria, he not only delivered the woman from her sin, but he delivered his disciples from prejudice.

When my dad started his church, our first pianist, was a gay man. I was barely 4 years old and I knew Brother Morris (name changed for privacy) was gay, yet my parents picked him up for church every Sunday, eventually gave him a place to stay and he was like a big brother to me. He played in church, ate dinner with us and hung out with our family. I can still see his handsome face with the hazel eyes now. I can still hear the beautiful way he played the piano. Although my church had a strict teaching on overall sexual purity (see church folk don’t want to talk about purity OVERALL , but that’s another blog post for my church community…talking about it here when I am not sure if people reading this even share my same faith or theology is counterproductive). When my parents taught me about Bayard Rustin as a little girl, I was taught about his important work with the Civil Rights Movement, the March on Washington, etc. and I was taught that he was gay. I was taught that his life as a gay man was part of his human experience and even though he may have had a different theological belief on romantic love, this difference did not discount his human experience or the love he may have for another human being. It is not my human experience and may even be outside of my theological and philosophical belief, but he is still equally human and deserves my respect and unconditional love. We do not always have to agree with one another, but we should be able to live together on this earth in peace as we all seek life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

These stories of my times in “Samaria” are my way of illuminating the idea of what Samaria is. It is any place that is different from you, but close enough for you to walk to and dwell in. It is your neighbor. The parable of the Good Samaritan, is a story about touching people who are close to you even if they are different. The Good Samaritan didn’t tell the wounded man how to be saved, but he healed his wounds and loved him unconditionally, even though he knew the wounded man would have rejected him because of his ethnicity. Jesus did not begin his conversation at the well by condemning the woman to hell for her promiscuous lifestyle, but instead he created a welcoming space for her to feel his unconditional love. Through doing that, she was delivered from seeking love in all the wrong places and found a lasting love with the LIVING WATER that would quench her thirst. 

Where is your Samaria? What place is close enough for you to build a bridge to or bring the healing of power of love? Is it the Black church in your neighborhood that you refuse to visit because their music is a bit louder than you’re used to or the White church that only plays contemporary Christian music on the guitar? Is it the coworker who looks, believes or lives differently than you? Is it that little girl or boy at your child’s school that you have dismissed because they are always in trouble in class and you told our child NOT to play with them? Is it connecting with the man or woman who wears the MAGA hat or connecting to the man or woman who worships Obama? Is it reading a book by Nicole Hannah Jones, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Ibram X. Kendi, Thomas Sowell or John McWhorter to understand different perspectives in this divided world? Is it seeing the ancient wisdom through centuries of trials and triumphs in the lives of the Jew and the Muslim, the Israeli or the Palestinian? Is it that part of the city you won’t shop in because either you feel you don’t belong in the area or that the area is inferior to your neighborhood? Who is your Samaritan? Where is your Samaria? It could be just around the corner from you, right in front of you, on a book shelf, the television screen or in the human beings that cross your path every single day, but because the place or the people look so different from you and your human experience, they seem too far away to reach. Go into Samaria, instead of waiting for Samaria to come to you in a way that you deem as acceptable and then have the humility to sit by the Well, start a conversation, listen, share a drink and find healing.