Risking forgiveness after Charleston

Introduction: After Charleston

On the morning of 19 June 2015, less than 48 hours after nine members of the Emanuel AME Church were killed by a White supremacist during the concluding prayer of Wednesday night Bible study, several family members of those who had been slain stood in a courtroom and offered their forgiveness to the murderer. Video of those four women’s and one man’s emotional statements went viral as an example of amazing grace in the face of racist violence. ¹

But amazement soon gave way to concern. There was a great desire to articulate what exactly it meant that those African American family members had offered forgiveness to the Anglo-American killer. Some commentators spoke with admiration at the ethical virtuosity of the family members who had moral enough consciences not to dwell in hatred and bitterness. Michael Wear, in his article ‘Stop Explaining Away Black Christian Forgiveness’, cites journalists Chris Hayes and Ta-Nehisi Coates as two commentators who expressed awe at the ethical virtuosity of the families. ² Other commentators emphasized the palliative effect of forgiveness in the wake of trauma. Matt Schiavenz, for example, wrote that forgiveness is an ‘effective tool in helping individuals and communities touched by tragedy accelerate the healing process’. ³

White evangelicals vociferously voiced their approval for the family members’ acts of forgiveness as a great example of personal Christian piety. These approbations were largely conveyed through conservative media in whitewashed language and theology, with only rare and oblique references to race or racism. In a column in the USA Today, White evangelical author John S. Dickerson carefully described the scene of the shooting as having taken place in ‘a Christian house of worship’. ⁴ Racism is mentioned twice in the editorial as the motivating factor in the attack, but there is no direct association between racial identity and the response of forgiveness. Russell Moore, another prominent White evangelical writer, penned a column in The Christian Post entitled ‘What Charleston Should Reminds Us About Forgiveness and Justice’, in which the words ‘race’, ‘racism’, ‘Black’ or ‘African American’ are completely absent. ⁵ In both cases, little thought was given to how the particular case of Black Christians forgiving overtly racist White violence against them may in fact be more complicated than ‘forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us’. ⁶

These approving commentaries from White reporters and writers were balanced by a chorus of Black writers and activists who were critical of the families’ offers of forgiveness. Philosopher and public intellectual Paul Taylor struck a balanced tone in an interview with BBC News America, pointing out that while the ethical virtuosity and personal piety of the family members was admirable, and may indeed provide psychological healing in the wake of this trauma, to limit the response to the deaths of the Emanuel Nine to the personal consolation of forgiveness would be an injustice. ‘Forgiveness is a personal and ethical virtue’, he said, ‘but it can be a political problem…When forgiveness is offered to us as a substitute for justice, when forgiveness is offered to us as a way of short-circuiting the conversation about how and whether we protect our citizens, that’s a real problem’. ⁷ In her New York Times column ‘Why I Can’t Forgive Dylann Roof’, Roxanne Gay articulated the problem Taylor indicated more explicitly. She writes that persisting in the practice of forgiveness in the face of ‘acts that are so terrible that we should recognize them as such…as beyond forgiving’ seems to be an unreasonable expectation for Black victims of White violence and politically counterproductive. In a situation where ‘Black folks ‘forgive and forgive and forgive, and those who trespass against us continue to trespass against us’, Gay asserts, forgiveness serves only to provide a fleeting comfort for the wider (whiter) American public. Lauding forgiveness covers over ‘the openness of the wounds racism has created in our society’. ⁸ This ‘false narrative of forgiveness’, she concludes, where the emphasis is placed upon personal virtuosity or piety and some mysterious power of Blacks to be reconciled to their White oppressors, covers over the persistence of White privilege and White power.

For Black Christians, forgiveness runs the risk of being misconstrued as an individual act of personal piety rather than a liberatory, non-violent direct action on behalf of Black liberation. There is also a risk for White Christians: by taking forgiveness to be consoling rather than challenging, they persist in the violence, injustice and indeed sinfulness of White supremacy. In this essay, I will argue that the practice of Black Christian forgiveness confronts these risks as a practical political response, based in the principles of personalism, the logic of non-violence and a unique understanding of the meaning of the Christian gospel as a way to ‘redeem the soul of America’.

Part I: Interpreting forgiveness

These characterizations of the meaning and morality of forgiveness reflect several regnant theoretical paradigms for forgiveness. Jesse Couenhoven helpfully groups different theories of forgiveness into three rough categories (psychological, legal and metaphysical) in his article ‘Forgiveness and Reconciliation’. Psychological theories emphasize the act of ‘letting go of retributive emotions’ through forgiveness, which is done not primarily for interpersonal or ethical reasons but rather to maintain one’s mental health. ⁹ Legal theories of forgiveness describe it as the act of forgoing justifiable retribution for culpable wrongdoing. ¹⁰ Couenhoven identifies this view especially with Desmond Tutu and the social/political paradigm of restorative justice. While legal theories of forgiveness have the benefit of acknowledging and emphasizing the interpersonal nature of acts of forgiveness, they tend to overlook or at least diminish the reality of wrongdoing, for the sake of the wider social order. Hybrid psychological–legal theories, such as those of Robert Enright and Jeffrie Murphy, describe forgiveness as ‘overcoming the vindictive passions on moral grounds’, but Couenhoven points out that even these theories ‘[require] the forgiver to eventually overlook the wrong; that is part of what is required in order to overcome resentment’. ¹¹ Metaphysical theories of forgiveness attempt to push past psychological or interpersonal restoration, and instead to ‘the bestowal of a new identity, a gift provided at some cost’. Couenhoven outlines the traditional theistic version of such a theory: ‘Forgiveness addresses the culpable evil called sin; forgiveness somehow overcomes sin by healing sinners and restoring them to the good’. ¹²

In a similar fashion, Jacques Derrida famously described forgiveness as taking place in the ‘undiscoverable place’ of ‘Ethics beyond ethics’: that is, at the aporetic juncture between the conditional, transactional agreement between victim and victimizer to forgive and to repent, respectively, and the unconditional, gratuitous, ‘aneconomical’ gift of forgiveness that pushes ‘beyond the exchange and even the horizon of a redemption or a reconciliation’. ¹³ Derrida recognizes the excess of sentiment and meaning in forgiveness beyond its merely compensatory or reconciliatory ethical function in society. As in the traditional theistic description of forgiveness, Derrida describes it as a window into what is ‘impossible’—namely, the forgiveness of the unforgiveable, the bestowal of ‘unmerited worth’ and a ‘new identity’. ¹⁴

How, then, are we to interpret the expressions of forgiveness by the family members of the Emmanuel Nine? Their words clearly indicated a metaphysical kind of forgiveness. Each of the family members offered some form of the prayer, ‘May God have mercy on your soul’. Anthony Thompson, who spoke on behalf of Myra Thompson, said:

I forgive you, and my family forgive you. But we would like you to take this opportunity to repent – repent, confess, give your life to the one who matters the most – Christ – so that he can change it, can change your ways, no matter what happened to you, and you’ll be ok. ¹⁵

The concerns articulated by Taylor and Gay about the political implications of this act reflect the hermeneutic of suspicion that William R Jones has argued is demanded when thinking about the ways that Christianity can help or hinder the project of combatting racism. ‘Each theological and moral imperative’, Jones argues, ‘must be regarded – provisionally – as a carrier of oppression’s violence…. Each of our most cherished beliefs, every element of creed and canon, must be ruthlessly probed and tested according to the praxis verification test question: What supports black liberation?’ ¹⁶ When it comes to the practice of Christian forgiveness, it makes sense to ask, ‘In what ways does forgiveness support Black liberation?’ In what ways does it undermine it?

When forgiveness is assumed to be merely an act of personal conciliation – a remediation of penalty and recanting of one’s just revenge – it could indeed constitute a political problem. If those who criticized the families for their forgiveness are correct – that their expressions of forgiveness were merely a ‘survival mechanism’ or examples of personal ‘greatness of soul’ – it would seem to give credence to the idea that there are no tangible repercussions for anti-Black violence. So-conceived, the power of forgiveness is manifested only in the individual, enabling victim’s families to cope with their personal loss while leaving the overarching social problem of anti-Black racism unaddressed. On this account, families forgive for their own well-being. In the meantime, the wider community is never challenged to rethink the sources of violence against the loved ones who are murdered.

Interpreting what took place in that courtroom in such narrow, individualistic ways, however, is wrongheaded. It is an error borne of biases about the nature of Christianity that Harry Singleton III (2012) argues have long contributed to the dehumanization of Black people in America. Singleton argues that the ‘most virulent dimension’ of American Christianity has historically been placing ‘primary emphasis upon the religious individual. In so doing, both Black and White Christians would come to understand the efficacy of faith manifesting itself only in the individual realm and not in the collective realm of human existence’. The historic overemphasis upon individual salvation rather than collective liberation, Singleton asserts, ‘has had particularly devastating consequences on the quest for Black self-determination’, because ‘insofar as black [collective] advancement falls out of the realm of divine will…it is deemed demonic behavior’. ¹⁷ Singleton’s theological diagnosis is that America ‘needs to divorce herself from the God of a racist theocracy’ – that is, a God solely concerned with individual prosperity and escaping from the complexities of life – and adopt ‘the God of Egalitarian Militancy’. ‘A new paradigm must emerge’, he concludes, ‘that frees us from obsessing about rituals and piety and pushes us into the realm of contributory efforts to the eradication of human oppression’. ¹⁸

Such a paradigm shift is necessary to uncover the political dimensions of those family’s members’ expressions of forgiveness. By situating the praxis of forgiveness into its proper theological paradigm – that is, a theology of egalitarian militancy, as Singleton suggests – it cannot simply be interpreted as conciliatory. Rather, Black Christian forgiveness represents a form of religious praxis that represents a mode of resistance to anti-Black racism and violence and aims to restructure social relations in America along more racially egalitarian lines. Insofar as Black Christian forgiveness is a kind of non-violent direct action, it constitutes a pious expression of forgiving love, predicated upon the assertion of the personhood of both victim and violator as well as a political protest against the dehumanizing activity of White supremacist violence. Black Christian forgiveness interrupts this violence by creating space for repentance, which takes the form of concrete action promoting racial justice.

Construing Black Christian forgiveness in this way – as somehow importantly different from merely pious or conciliatory forms of the practice of forgiveness – requires situating it in the historical and theological context of the Black church and Black theology. Situated in this ideological and practical context, Black Christian forgiveness makes sense as a political response to White violence. Raising consciousness of this context can, in part, lessen the risk inherent in engaging in this practice of non-violent, direct action by acquainting those concerned with its true meaning. ¹⁹

Part II: Black subjectivity and the tradition of Black personalism

My argument – that Black Christian forgiveness should be interpreted as a practice of resistance rather than a coping mechanism or act of conciliation – turns upon a particularly strong conception of Black subjectivity, which is grounded in the tradition of Black personalist metaphysics. Rufus Burrow Jr describes personalism as ‘any philosophy that maintains that persons possess the highest intrinsic value, and reality is personal’. ‘Theistic personalism’, Burrow goes on to say, ‘maintains that a Supreme Personal Being (whatever name attributed to such a being) is the ultimate reality and thus the source of the intrinsic worth of persons’. ²⁰ Theistic personalism is often associated with Euro-American thinkers like Borden Parker Bowne and his students Albert Knudson and Edgar S. Brightman (often rendered as ‘the Boston Personalists’). Burrow claims, however, that the principles of theistic personalism have much deeper roots in Afrikan philosophy and theology.

Afrikan traditional thought regarding the person, community and God existed long before the system of thought that Bowne first began calling ‘personalism’ around 1905…My growing sense is that not only are there many similarities between these philosophies [i.e. Euro-American personalism and Afrikan personalism], but that Afrikan theology and philosophy are essentially personalistic. ²¹

In his book God and Human Dignity, Burrow maintains that although philosophical personalism in general ‘has deep roots in Afrikan traditional thought, Oriental, classical Greek, and Roman thought, as well as the idealistic traditions from Plato to Kant and Hegel, there is an important sense in which it is a peculiarly American philosophy’. ²⁶ While thinkers like Bowne, Brightman and Benjamin Mays systematically elaborated this philosophical position in the academy, there was also a ‘homespun personalism’ that characterized the ‘major Black religious convictions about a Creator God who is personal and loving, who demands that justice and righteousness be done, and that compassion be exhibited toward the least fortunate. In this conviction is also the idea that each person, regardless of gender and race, is inherently precious to God’. ‘These two convictions’, Burrow concludes, ‘are traceable to the Bible, as well as to Afrikan traditional thought and among Afrikans during and after American slavery’. ²⁷

Benjamin Mays provides a wealth of textual evidence to support this claim in his book The Negro’s God (1938). In order to outline the development of the ideas of God and humanity in Afrikan American culture, Mays includes a discussion of Negro Spirituals as well as lengthy excerpts from sermons and writings by Black ministers and poets in the period between 1760 and the 1930s. His summary of ‘the most significant ideas’ about God in the conclusion of the book is shot through with the principles of theistic personalism. Mays affirms that ‘God and humanity are one’ in their personality, that God ‘spins every person from Himself’ and that ‘Every soul comes into the world with love for man and love for God’. This intrinsic love expresses the notion of persons-in-community, which Mays describes as both the basis for racial identity (writing that ‘God created the Negro in His own image’, ‘The Negro is God’s most perfect handiwork’ and ‘The Negro is on a special errand for God’) and an orientation towards the wider community of humanity in general. ‘The rights of humanity are divine and they cannot be divested by reason of race…We are all God’s creatures…[and] The human family is united in God’. ²⁸ This affirmation is held in creative tension with the reality of the disunity of American life along racial lines. In somewhat of a world historical turn, Mays writes that ‘God has put the Negro and the white man here in America to prove to the world that two races varying in culture and color can live together, each contributing to the welfare of the other’. ²⁹ Proving this possibility, however, ultimately relies upon the support of God for both Whites and Blacks:

[God] is on the side of right, actively engaged in the struggle, but in co-operation with man. God, if one lets Him, erases from one’s heart race hatred and prejudice. God gives a person strength and courage to battle and contend for the right. ³⁰

God desires that every individual be given the right to grow to perfection without the imposition of artificial barriers from without. These ideas of God clearly support the growing consciousness that social change should be perfected along the lines of racial and social justice. ³¹

From the perspective of Black theistic personalism, the Black subject is of intrinsic worth by virtue of her creation by the Divine Person of God. At the same time, she stands in an exorable social relation to the wider community, which is made up of persons who share the intrinsic worth of personality. Communities themselves have distinctive identities and destinies; at the same time, restricting the development of persons-in-community to any one social or racial group does violence to the underlying unity of humanity as persons equally ‘spun out’ from God. Acts of mutual love and support, rites of passage and the promotion of social justice are all expressions of the flourishing of personality-in-community. When ‘artificial barriers’ are imposed – that is, when dehumanizing ideologies like anti-Black racism and its counterpart, White privilege, become embedded in structures of power – such flourishing is thwarted. As the progenitors and inheritors of personalism, however, both Afrikan and Afrikan American subjects are uniquely cognizant of the dehumanizing effects of such barriers and uniquely capable of articulating and embodying the principles for dismantling them.

Black Christian forgiveness, as a practice, ought to be interpreted through this tradition of Black theistic personalism, which articulates the metaphysical underpinnings of the Black church and Black theology. The interrelation of persons and communities in this tradition also has immediate implications for both ethics and politics. For persons-in-community to develop as such, the social conditions must be amenable to that development. When situations of oppression arise, dividing community along racial lines (as in the case of Euro-American subjugation of Afrikan Americans), the capacity for flourishing is disabled for all persons in that community. Thus, the category of person-in-community is intrinsically freighted with a demand for political action to bring about social reconstruction that transcends racial lines and calls everyone to account for injustice.

Part III: The oppositional witness of the Black church

Understanding the political dimension of Black Christian forgiveness further requires situating it as a practice of the Black church. In The Divided Mind of the Black Church: Theology, Piety, and Public Witness, Rev. Dr Raphael Warnock argues that the Black church in America was born and shaped by two fundamental orientations: one towards ‘revivalistic piety’ and the other to ‘radical protest’. ³² Echoing the insight of Gayraud Wilmore that the Black church is fundamentally separated from the White church by its ‘radicalism’ (its orientation towards social engagement and change), Warnock asserts that, under the conditions of slavery and racism in which the Black church emerged, the pious affirmation of Black personhood was itself a radical political protest. The Black church’s ‘double consciousness’ of piety and protest came to its fullest public expression in the civil rights movement, and more specifically in the person of Rev. Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Warnock writes that ‘King embodied and communicated with credibility the dialectical tension between the evangelical and liberationist poles of black faith, individual conversion and social transformation’. ³³ He was ‘effective in evangelizing and conscientizing the Black church, in large measure, because he spoke a language that resonated with both the evangelical and liberationist strands in its heritage and self-understanding’. ³⁴ After King, systematic Black theology continued to be guided by the critical dialectical principle of piety and protest. Thinkers like James Cone and J Deotis Roberts, as well as womanist theologians like Katie Geneva Cannon and Delores Williams, continued to fill out a rich interpretive framework which the Black church could draw on to make sense of its dual identity and its ‘oppositional witness’ ³⁵ in America.

From the perspective of the Black church, the invocation of the gospel in forgiving White violence signals more than just an act of personal piety; it also sounds a blue note – a tragicomic expression of radical protest and liberatory potential. ³⁶ When we place Black Christian forgiveness into its proper context, the overlap between the personal and political valences of the act is unmistakable. In the praxis of the Black church in general, and in the case of Black Christian forgiveness in particular, failing to account for both aspects of this ‘double consciousness’ constitutes a profound misapprehension of meaning.

Insofar as Singleton is correct in his assessment of the tendency in American Christianity (both Black and White) towards overvaluing individual salvation and neglecting collective liberation, something more than just a cursory acknowledgement of this double consciousness may be called for. This is particularly true of Black Christian forgiveness, due to prevalence of psychological or merely interpersonal (rather than political) interpretations of its significance. Rather than seeing forgiveness as a metaphysical opening into the transformative possibilities of an ‘ethics beyond ethics’ – or, in the Black liberatory imaginary, of a racially egalitarian society beyond White supremacy – forgiveness would only function on an individual basis. As such, Black Christian forgiveness would be a practice of escapism and quietism that critics of the Black church like Albert Cleage warn against. ³⁷ It is necessary, then, to situate Black Christian forgiveness into a theology that is, in Singleton’s words, appropriately egalitarian and militant. Fortunately, the Black theological tradition provides a rich framework upon which to draw.

Part IV: The theology of Black Christian forgiveness

Black theology provides the interpretive framework in which the praxis of the church is taken to be reasonable (though not ‘rational’ in the enlightenment sense). Diana L Hayes describes Black theology as ‘a theology of praxis emerging from the breadth and depth of the Black experience which, while recognizing the promise of the eschaton as revealed in Christ, also demands concrete action in this world on behalf of marginalized Blacks in American society today’. ³⁸ What does such a theology lend to our understanding of the political character of Black Christian forgiveness?

Plenty, as it turns out. In the Black theological tradition, Dr King’s philosophy of non-violence dominates any discussion of the meaning of Black Christian forgiveness. It was King who first set the terms by which the Black church would understand the meaning of forgiveness in the context of the struggle against White power. In a sermon at Dexter Avenue Church entitled ‘Loving Your Enemies’, Dr King famously asserted that forgiveness is the beginning of love and that love is the basis for a just society. ‘Forgiveness means reconciliation, a coming together again’, he says. It is premised on the acknowledgment that ‘the evil deed of the enemy-neighbor, the thing that hurts, never quite expresses all that he is’. ‘The darkness of racial injustice’, he goes on to claim, ‘will be dispelled only by the light of forgiving love…We must in strength and humility meet hate with love’. This conclusion is the basis for King’s strategy of non-violent direct action, what he calls meeting ‘physical force with soul force’. Forgiveness, insofar as it is the first step in reconstructing the damaging race relations in America along more loving lines, is itself a form of non-violent direct action.

It would be easy to begin and end with Dr King’s philosophy of non-violence when discussing the practice of Black Christian forgiveness – but such a short-circuited reflection is the kind of disingenuously minimalist appropriation of the Black theological tradition that stands in the way of true justice. Indeed, this is the type of malappropriation of Dr King’s thought that is common among White evangelicals and political conservatives. ³⁹ Focusing solely upon love and the offering of Black Christian forgiveness neglects its other important aspect: White repentance. J Deotis Roberts, writing in Liberation and Reconciliation, says that ‘Forgiveness is conditional upon repentance, which involves a change of mind and intention’. ⁴⁰ The problem, Roberts explains, is that, from a purely humanistic perspective, it is clear that Whites ‘cannot repent’ of their power and privilege in and of themselves. In turn, Blacks ‘cannot forgive’ in and of themselves. But ‘Christians do not rely completely on human effort;’ in fact, ‘knowing the measure of God’s love expressed in God’s redemptive act in Christ should humble the Christian and enable one to love and forgive. It should lead the White person to repent of the sin of racism. He or she should realize that the way to God is through reconciliation with the brother and sister’. ⁴¹ On Robert’s account, Black Christian forgiveness amounts to nothing less than a non-violent assault upon the conscience of White Americans and White Christians in particular. It does so in love, but a fierce, confrontational love.

The confrontation of White violence with Black forgiveness, when it is construed as non-violent direct action, can be intelligible as a political strategy even on a secular account. Greg Moses showed this in his analysis of what he calls King’s ‘logic of nonviolence’, which he writes, ‘culminates in a complex and distinctive theory of justice, grounded in struggle and love. Because of this grounding, King’s theory of justice must confront the risk of death and must explore the reserves of power that would sustain such a commitment’. ⁴² In the context of forgiveness, Roberts describes the ‘reserve of power’ in terms of the gospel message of divine grace. King famously describes this power as agape love in a sermon entitled ‘An Experiment in Love’.

Agape means understanding, redeeming good will for all men. It is an overflowing love which is purely spontaneous, unmotivated, groundless, and creative. It is not set in motion by any quality or function of its object. It is the love of God operating in the human heart…. It is love in action…seeking to preserve and create community. ⁴³

Roberts’s hopeful theology of grace and King’s ethic of agape love is not without its contemporary critics. Joshua L Lazard, Minister of Duke Chapel, argues that in the aftermath of Charleston, a pure appeal to or endorsement of ‘Christian forgiveness’ that does not allow space for righteous indignation at the evil of White supremacy too quickly absolves ‘Christians from addressing the issues that caused the situation’ and ‘appears counter-intuitive to those within the Black Lives Matter movement who are angry and filled with righteous indignation’. ⁴⁶ Lazard’s contemporary critique echoes that of James Cone in God of the Oppressed. ‘Black people must be aware of the extreme dangers of speaking too lightly of reconciliation with Whites’, he writes. ‘I am not ruling out the rare possibility of conversion among white oppressors, but conversion in the biblical sense is a radical experience, and it ought not to be identified with white sympathy for blacks or with a pious feeling in white folks’ hearts’. ⁴⁷

In his more recent work, Cone seeks to temper the exuberant hope of idealistic interpretations of Black theology. He chooses to centre his theological understanding of Black liberation around the deep symbols of the cross and the lynching tree. Cone’s emphasis upon the redemptive suffering of the Black Christ on the cross is a long-standing feature of his theology; what is new in The Cross and the Lynching Tree is the way in which the suffering of the cross is concretized in the Black experience of lynchings. Cone argues that ‘While the cross symbolized God’s supreme love for human life, the lynching tree was the most terrifying symbol of hate in America’. ⁴⁸ The close connection of these symbols indicates a very specific meaning for Black Christians. Cone explains that through the power of God’s love, the ‘cruel tree’ is somehow transformed into a ‘Wondrous Cross’. ‘‘Calvary’, he writes, ‘in a mysterious way they could not explain, was their redemption from the terror of the lynching tree’. ⁴⁹

It was King, Cone goes on to claim, who embodied and articulated the creative synthesis of this contradictory relation of the cross to the lynching tree. In his confrontation with the injustice of White power, ‘Martin King lived the meaning of the cross and thereby gave an even more profound interpretation of it with his life’. ⁵⁰ Moreover, it was the way in which the mysterious redemptive power of the cross lay ‘at the center of his faith’ that enabled King to ‘love the people he knew were trying to kill him, following Jesus’ example on the cross, ‘Father forgive them; for they know not what they do’ (Lk 23:34)’. ⁵¹ Although the power of God’s love to redeem suffering is indeed real, Cone insists that it cannot

erase the pain of suffering and its challenge for faith. No black Christian could escape the problem of evil that has haunted Christians throughout history. That is why the cross and redemptive suffering are not popular themes today among many Christians…it is difficult for young theologians today, as it was also back then, to understand King’s profound, existential, and paradoxical truth. ⁵²

Ultimately this is the image that Black Christian forgiveness seems to evoke: a suffering Black body crying out to a God of love to forgive his executioners, even from the bloody cross of the lynching tree. It is an image that captures the protest against the violence and ignorance of White privilege and power, even as it bespeaks the possibility of reconciliation in a single human family. From the heart of the gospel, it is a pious invitation to repent, to partake of the mysterious power of God and to begin to make all things new. ⁵⁵

Conclusion: Risking forgiveness

Grace on race does not come cheaply in America. Black acts of forgiving love always run the risk of being taken as merely conciliatory, with White Americans missing the liberating call for radical repentance and continuing in their unjust and violent status quo. But this is ultimately the result of a misapprehension of the meaning of Black Christian forgiveness: of its roots in Black theistic personalism; of its function in the praxis of the Black church; as a mode of oppositional witness for the redemption of the oppressed; and as a non-violent appeal to repentance and, by extension, social justice. Taylor was right to say that in the aftermath of Charleston, forgiveness cannot be a substitute for ameliorating racial injustices. However, as I have argued here, Black Christian forgiveness can play a role in urging a society towards racial equity.

That role, however, will always be difficult to articulate, and the relative ‘success’ of Black Christian forgiveness will be hard to measure. It remains an inherently risky practice, both insofar as it is easily misinterpreted and in and of itself. As Derrida points out, the unconditional quality of forgiveness – its absolute origin in the agape graciousness that transcends history, law, and politics – ‘remains nonetheless inseparable from what is heterogeneous to it…if one wants, and it is necessary, forgiveness to become effective, concrete, historic…it is necessary that this purity engage itself in a series of conditions of all kinds (psycho-sociological, political, etc.)’. For this reason, Derrida concludes, ‘Forgiveness is thus mad’, leaving one ‘torn’ between ‘a ‘hyperbolic’ ethical vision…and the reality of a society at work in pragmatic processes of reconciliation’. ⁵⁶ If any of these myriad contradictory aspects of forgiveness is lost – if, for instance, it is reduced to a merely legal or political process, or a purely psychological attempt to salvage one’s well-being in the face of violence and wrongdoing – then forgiveness ceases to be what it is. This unavoidably contradictory character makes forgiveness a practice whose merit is difficult to gauge in any straightforward way. This is certainly true of Black Christian forgiveness: absent the metaphysical, historical and theological underpinnings woven together in the ‘hyperbolic’ vision of divine liberation, Black Christian forgiveness ceases to be what it is in its pragmatic confrontation with the reality of anti-Black racism in America. Whether this practice bears fruit is still an open question.

In the end, the best way to understand and honour that moment in the courtroom, when four Black women and one Black man told the White racist who had murdered their family members that they forgave him, is to risk joining them in their liberatory, reconciling vision. In the words of Depayne Middleton Brown, who spoke that day on behalf of her sister, Rev. Depayne Middleton Doctor, ‘We are the family that love built. We have no room for hate, so we have to forgive’. ⁵⁷ This is the imperative that I have subjected to Jones’ praxis verification test question in this essay. I hope to have shown that Black Christian forgiveness, when properly grounded in the conceptual and institutional frameworks of Black Christianity in America, does indeed support and further the project of Black liberation.