Reparations
Do you remember the story of Zacchaeus from Luke 19? Jesus was passing through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem, and a crowd had lined the street to see him. Among them was Zacchaeus, a tax-collector who, the Bible tells us, was too short to see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed into a sycamore tree so that he could see Jesus when he passed by. To everyone’s surprise, when Jesus arrived at the place, he looked up and called out, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”
If you cannot remember the details of the story, perhaps you remember the children’s song, which describes Zacchaeus as a “wee little man” who “climbed up in a sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see.” The lyrics convey the basic details of the biblical episode, but, unless you were taught a seldom-sung second verse, you might not remember that there is more to the story than a short fellow who wanted to see Jesus.
Overwhelmed by Jesus’ invitation, Zacchaeus came down from the tree and declared that he would give half of his possessions to the poor and repay anyone whom he had defrauded four times as much. Jesus looked at him and at the crowd, which had begun to grumble because Jesus had chosen to dine with such a maligned sinner, and declared, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham.”
That story is the inspiration for the work of The Zacchaeus Foundation, a local non-profit organization whose mission is to return the truth, wealth, and power that have been stolen from enslaved Africans and their descendants. As their website describes, they seek to repair truth through the education of mostly white congregations like ours. They seek to repair wealth by raising funds from those congregations and other donors and returning it by supporting Black-led non-profits. And they seek to repair power by leaving the decisions on how those funds should be allocated to the Black members of their board of directors. You can read more about their work here.
For the last few years, primarily through the work of our Becoming Beloved Community, St. Paul’s has partnered with The Zacchaeus Foundation in several ways. We have helped host visiting speakers and workshops in the community and at St. Paul’s. Last summer, the foundation’s founder, Lowell Taylor, was a guest speaker in our Adult Forum on two Sundays. Recently, we held an all-parish read of Reparations: A Christian Call for Repentance by Duke L. Kwon and Gregory Thompson, and we finished that effort with a parish-wide workshop on the subject of reparations last Sunday.
The vestry has also made commitments to support The Zacchaeus Foundation and, more broadly, the work of racial healing. Last year, we voted to give one percent of a recent estate gift to the foundation, and we also voted to include a contribution of one percent of our church’s income to the foundation in this year’s budget. Although the financial component of our efforts is crucial, our work must go beyond writing checks. The vestry, staff, and members of our Becoming Beloved Community continue to look for ways to bring education and additional partnerships to our parish.
The work of reparations is not without controversy, even in a parish as committed to racial healing as our own. The word itself sparks contempt, which is why The Zacchaeus Foundation’s podcast is insightfully named The R-Word. Recent discussion at vestry meetings as well as feedback from Sunday’s workshop remind me that there is more work to do if reparations will become something our whole congregation can embrace as central to our identity as Christians.
As I think through the questions I have heard from others as well as those that I have asked myself, I think the lingering reservations about this work can be expressed in three ways: why me, why us, and why them? Although I will attempt an initial response to those questions here, I believe that the work of racial healing requires time, study, relationship, dialogue, prayer, intention, and reflection, which means that none of us will read this article and be convinced of anything except, perhaps, the value of continuing the conversation. And, if that is what you take from these words, I will have done my job.
First, why me? The objection I hear most often to proposals for reparations centers on the fact that none of us, who are alive today, are personally responsible for the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade. That is true. It is also true that fewer and fewer of us were around when segregationists opposed the dismantling of Jim Crow. Yet white Americans, including those whose ancestors immigrated to this country long after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, benefit directly and indirectly from the theft of Black bodies that fueled not only the American economy but also the disparate allocation of wealth that still haunts us today.
I cannot adequately, in this space, explore the complexities of race as a social construct, the many factors that have contributed to our ten-to-one wealth inequality, or the ways in which white individuals and families continue to benefit from historically racist policies like redlining and its effect on an education system that is funded through property taxes. I can only invite you to commit to learning more and continuing the conversation. I do not believe that all white people have it easy because of their lighter skin tone, nor do I think that all white people are intentionally racist, but I do believe that white people and white-led organizations, like St. Paul’s, have benefitted and continue to benefit from the institution of slavery and its lasting effects, which is why I believe the work of reparations belongs to all white Americans.
Second, why us? Why is this work something that belongs to the church and not to the government, to private businesses, or to other secular organizations? I think that there are good arguments for why local, state, and federal governments should make reparations a priority, and I think that the return of stolen wealth is something that private businesses should consider. There are other non-religious groups that support the work of racial healing, and I applaud them for their efforts. For me, however, this work is not only distinctly Christian but my hope for it is unequivocally found in the cross of Jesus Christ.
In the story of Zacchaeus, Jesus did not declare that salvation had come to the homes of those whose stolen money had been returned to them. He announced that salvation had come to the home of the tax collector who had given it back. This is a story about the value of repentance and repair—about the way that an encounter with Jesus not only inspired a change of heart but, through the accompanying economic change, brought salvation to a lost child of Abraham. As Christians, we participate in the work of reparations because we, too, have met Jesus and have experienced in his death and resurrection God’s unconditional love, which, in turn, transforms us into a healed and restored image of that love.
Again, this space will not allow me to explore the significance of the cross in the apostle Paul’s work of racial healing or the ways in which the Holy Spirit equips us to pursue a life of holiness. All I can do is encourage you to think of the ways in which our faith teaches the importance of confession, repentance, and repair as central practices for Jesus’ disciples. I believe that, when we resist the temptation to make Jesus’ commands so abstract that they lose their discomforting edge, we hear the power of the gospel in ways that compel us, with God’s help, to seek our own healing through reparations.
Third, why them? Again and again, when discussing the work of The Zacchaeus Foundation, I have heard reasonable and responsible questions about supporting an organization without knowing exactly how our money will be used. Early in my friendship with Lowell Taylor, I named for him my own concerns that it will be difficult to persuade our congregation to support the foundation’s work without knowing more about how our contributions will be allocated. Although I suggested that those concerns belonged to St. Paul’s, I was really expressing my own reservations, both as an individual but also as the rector of our parish, who, along with the vestry, feels a personal duty of fiscal responsibility.
Some of our concerns come from the fact that this work is just getting started. We are being asked to become an early adopter, and there is not much evidence yet of how our funds will be used. I can tell you that the operations of foundation itself, including the work of Lowell and the other board members, are not supported by our contributions to The Zacchaeus Fund. One hundred percent of those contributions, except for management fees taken by the Arkansas Community Foundation, which itself is a non-profit that manages the fund, go to support Black-led non-profits.
Still, we have other concerns that arise from our not knowing which Black-led non-profits will receive those funds. What if those funds could be better used somewhere else? What if the money is given to organizations whose work does not fully align with our values as a church? Are we being faithful stewards of those resources if we do not get to decide how they are allocated? In order for reparations to be an opportunity for our own healing as well as the healing of those from whom truth, wealth, and power have been stolen, we must relinquish control of how that money is spent. And that is hard—maybe the hardest part of all.
I cannot write words that will make those feelings go away, but I can tell you that, over the last two years, as I have remained committed to this conversation through study, reflection, prayer, and discussion, my reservations have dissolved. I support the work of reparations and the approach offered by The Zacchaeus Foundation because I recognize that that work is necessary for my own healing, restoration, and repair, and I have come to believe that that healing is not possible as long as I continue to exercise control over the outcome of this work. Of course, if I discover that there are more effective ways to pursue racial healing in my life and in our congregation, I will seek them out, but, for now, this is the best way I know.
As a congregation of committed Christians, we believe that racial healing is central to our work as disciples of Jesus. There is not much debate about that. How we pursue that healing, however, is open to lots of discussion and disagreement. I hope that you will join me in this work—not only by being a part of a congregation that gives money to Black-led non-profits but also as an individual who seeks the healing offered to the world by Jesus Christ.
In order for salvation to be manifest fully in our lives, that part of ourselves which belongs to a world that is affected by the sin of racism must be repaired and restored. That healing is not possible unless it is accompanied by a change of heart and a change of life. The hard work that enables that change does not happen overnight. It takes time to unfold within each one of us, but I believe that staying committed to that work is well worth it. That work helps us hear Jesus say that we, too, are children of God and, regardless of our ancestry, children of Abraham and children of promise.
Yours faithfully,
Evan D. Garner