Other, where art thou?

Each of us ought to take at least one significant step to address the bane of racism.

ABOUT 30 YEARS AGO I HAD THE PRIVILEGE OF HAVing 16 young boys in my charge. They were wards of the state. I had signed on as a summer camp counselor and then stayed on through the following school year as activities director. The oldest of them was only 10, but these boys had known a lot of grief. My crew was made up of black, yellow, red, brown, and white kids. Within this group, childhood pain was an equal opportunity visitor.

Over time and through many shared experiences we be came a kind of brotherhood. The guys looked out for one another. They looked out for me. But it didn't start out that way. Early on I had brought my younger brother and sister to come visit, swim in the pool, eat pizza, watch a movie (The Man With the X-Ray Eyes was a perennial favorite), and spend the night. I remember being very protective of "my own family" that first day and giving them special treatment. It only seemed right. But as the summer wore on, I came to see the boys in my care as family, too. That may sound like a cliche, but in fact that's what happened over time and circumstance. I could no longer factor them out when it came to tending to everyone's well-being. We were all family.

It seems easy for humans to sort those around us into "us" or "them." It's easy to turn others into "other." And so I wasn't surprised recently when a major brouhaha occurred in Chicago around the issue of safety and race. A predominantly black parish applied for membership in an intramural sports league with mostly white parishes (see Signs of the Times, August). The white parishes, claiming a concern for the safety of their children, didn't want to travel to the black parish and wanted the option to forfeit games rather than travel to meet their opponents fairly on the basketball court.

I understand the concern about safety. The crime rate in the black parish is reportedly higher than in the other parishes in the league. But I would challenge the definition of what constitutes "our kids." Aren't the kids in the black parish "our kids," too? What about their safety and their future? Wouldn't their safety and well-being be enhanced through greater interaction in positive parish programs rather than remaining isolated? Wouldn't all our safety be enhanced through that kind of inclusion and interaction?

Chicago Auxiliary Bishop Joseph Perry said it clearly. "Fear for our safety can never be the prime concern. Fear for the modeling passed on to our children must be the prime concern." I agree. As followers of Jesus, we can and must do better than that. And it begins with a change of consciousness.

At the heart of all racial strife is a failure of imagination: the imagination to see beyond differences to similarities. We need to develop the imagination to see that beyond our comfort able patterns of living might lie a richer experience that, in the end, is more satisfying for everyone. The imagination to envision a future where fear is not the final answer and individual personal safety is not the ultimate aim.

The church can help in many ways, not by forcing solutions but by inviting people of good will to wrestle honestly and imaginatively with race as a sin of commission as well as omission ("Lord, when did we see you hungry?"). Some dioceses, such as my own in Chicago, are taking solid strides. We can build structures to support meaningful interaction, such as twinning parishes that do more than transfer funds but share their dreams and destinies. And we can raise up skilled facilitators to help parishioners talk honestly and bravely across racial lines.

But the biggest tool at our disposal is the Eucharist. Where do people become family? Around the table. This sacrament of Communion was given to us by Jesus himself. He told us to do it in remembrance of him. It may sound like "pie in the sky," but the most potent force we have to address and overcome racism is to practice the Eucharist in our daily lives. I'm not talking about simply holding the precious feeling of Jesus, sweet and pure, privately in our hearts, but, once fed, acting on the reality that our Christ resides in everybody.

The teacher of law asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" (Luke 10:29). We need to ask ourselves, "Who belongs in my family?" If we try to answer that question from the position of unconsciousness and fear, we will only find more strife and discord. But if we turn to the Eucharist--not as a commodity we receive, but as a way of living and seeing--we will gain access to the divine imagination, the Spirit who created the heavens and the earth. It's then that we shall truly overcome.

By TOM MCGRATH, contributing editor of U.S. CATHOLIC magazine.