Common ground: white Christians, black Christians and Obama

"I was drawn to the power of the African American religious tradition to spur social change. Out of necessity, the black church had to minister to the whole person. Out of necessity, the black church rarely had the luxury of separating individual salvation from collective salvation. It had to serve as the center of the community's political, economic, and social as well as spiritual life; it understood in an intimate way the biblical call to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and challenge powers and principalities. I was able to see faith as more than just a comfort to the weary; rather, it was an active, palpable agent in the world."

Barack Obama, "The Audacity of Hope"

Jesus is the way, the truth and the life (John 14:6), and no Bible verse explains Christian thinking more clearly.

Except for the confusing part.

For every Christian who uses the bumper sticker "God said it, I believe it and that settles it," there is another Christian who will tell you that Jesus is the way for them, but not necessarily the way for everybody else.

For every Christian who celebrates centuries of educational, medical and penal reforms that resulted from the labors of godly men and women, you can find a Christian whose first inclination when considering the role of religion in life is to reflect on the Inquisition, Salem witch trials and any number of other faith-based purges.

In short, for every Christian who declares he is all in, there is another one who is hedging his bets. Or as Gandhi would say, give me your Christ, but not your Christians.

Most Christians develop a theology based on the few Scripture verses they can remember and the jaded memories they can't forget.

(Take me, please. I'm a former altar boy still bitter over Vatican II. It took me six miserable months to learn the Latin responses for Mass. What a waste! After two weeks on the job, I was told our church was switching the whole shooting match over to English. Some 44 years later I'm still waiting for a mea maxima culpa from somebody.)

For a country that prides itself on separation of church and state, we do not expect our presidents to be non-religious. In fact, it is doubtful that a person could be elected president after saying "organized religion is a sham and a crutch for weak-minded people who need strength in numbers," as did former Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura.

Enter Barack Obama. Weak-minded? Needs a crutch? Prefers safety in numbers? Doesn't sound like the president-elect to me.

Yet what sound will Americans hear when this man of Kenya-Kansas descent — and a product of the American black Christian experience — calls our nation to prayer and reflection, as will likely happen during times of mourning or calamity?

We often focus on the various denominational flavors of Christianity, but we should always add the flavors of race. For most black Americans, the church was once the only place they could gather to petition for better schools, higher wages and political power. For most white Americans, the Sunday church service was a time out from worrying about all that.

White Christians are often surprised at the language out of the black church: sometimes surprised by the redemptive power found in the mesmerizing cadence in its songs and sermons; other times surprised by the lack of theological clarity that allows the pulpit to quickly morph into a political stump.

Next month, America for the first time will hear from a man who is a product of the black church. Thus, when Barack Obama rises as president to call upon the mercies of God, he will have two captive audiences. One will be those who share his Christian zeal, but not the black church experience that motivated his zeal for service. The other will be those who share his political zeal, but not his ability — and willingness — to speak about the church as easily as if he were discussing alternative energy, statesmanship or the Chicago White Sox.

During the next four years, Barack Obama will likely offend both parties. But in so doing, he might bring both closer together.

Bob Gorman is the managing editor of the Times.