Jun 19, 2021 5 min read

Lawmakers across the country are at it again, seeking to control what is and isn’t taught by professional educators. The newest target? Critical Race Theory. Opponents claim CRT is racist against white people, creates division, and becomes a doorway through which all diversity and inclusion efforts will enter. Currently, efforts are underway to ban the use of Critical Race Theory in K-12 education, colleges and universities, and in workplace diversity training.

It’s no coincidence that the majority of opponents to Critical Race Theory are white. CRT teaches racism as a social construct, meaning the problem is more than simply attitudes and actions of individuals. When a white person thinks of racism only on the individual level, it becomes easier to distance oneself from it. The problem, we can say, is with people: other people, not me. And if my attitudes and actions are not overtly and proudly racist, then I am free from having to do anything about it. Why must I be held accountable for the sins of other people?

As a pastor, I rarely hear complaints when I talk about racism as a personal or individual sin. American Christians are familiar with that concept. Individuals commit sins, ask forgiveness when they need it, and strive to avoid those sins in the future. But scripture is also filled with examples of communal sin, including the flood narrative in Genesis, the words of Old Testament prophets, and convicting messages for entire communities from Jesus and the Apostle Paul. Time and time again in scripture, entire cities and nations are judged for their communal sins: not caring for the poor, worshipping their possessions and idols, ignoring God’s commands, and refusing to welcome people of other tribes, ethnicities, or religious backgrounds. Repentance becomes a required activity for the entire community, not just the individuals living in it.

Despite these numerous biblical examples, communal sin gets little to no attention in today’s church. The resistance to Critical Race Theory demonstrates our unfamiliarity with the concept. When I teach racism as a social construct, I outline the deep history of racism codified in American education, housing, and criminal justice systems. This systemic racism has allowed, and in some cases promoted, an imbalance in opportunities for advancement and success based on a person’s race or ethnicity. In my experience, teaching racism as a communal, systemic sin receives far greater resistance, even among Christians.

I consider myself a good person. While attending seminary in my early twenties, I began learning about systemic racism within my own denomination, the United Methodist Church. Since then, I have tried to be actively anti-racist. I associate with people of all racial backgrounds. I participate in diversity and inclusion training regularly for work. I read several books a year on racism in America.

Yet, as a white American I have benefitted from systems that privilege me over persons of color, especially African Americans. To my knowledge, no one in my family history was ever denied housing, education, or jobs on account of their race. Compared to their non-white contemporaries, my ancestors always had comparatively smoother waters on which to sail. Every neighborhood was open to them for buying a home. Colleges and universities didn’t consider their race when determining whether to accept them. Employers did not reject their applications because the company had already met their quota of white employees. And no church I’ve ever served has openly wondered if I, a white person, could be an effective pastor for them. This has not historically been true for Americans who are not white.

To the extent that I have benefitted from these privileges of my ancestors, I am complicit in the communal sin of racism in America. I don’t personally hold racist beliefs or attitudes, but I still benefit from past and present racist systems. But why should I feel guilty about the opportunities available to me, or the success I’ve achieved as a result?

Perhaps guilt is the wrong word, because it brings the focus back to the individual and my own beliefs or actions. Critical Race Theory, says Steven Sawchuk of Education Week, “puts an emphasis on outcomes, not merely on individuals’ own beliefs, and it calls on these outcomes to be examined and rectified.”

In Christian terms, the emphasis of Critical Race Theory is to see racism as communal sin, and to call whole communities and nations to repentance. Part of the process of repentance is proactively making things right again, not only in our hearts but in our relationships within the community. This doesn’t mean discriminating against white people, as some suggest CRT teaches. Instead, it means learning how to break down discriminatory practices and laws that still exist, teaching these lessons to others, and committing more resources to lifting others up. Think of it as a rising tide that lifts all boats. Some of us have been sailing easy for a while, unaware that our nation’s history of racism has kept others in the mud for generations. The rising tide of Critical Race Theory won’t prevent anyone from continuing to sail; it merely makes sailing possible for more people.

The Rev. Erik Hoeke is pastor at Avery United Methodist Church in North Franklin Township and a South Strabane Township resident.