Urban Thought Collective

One of the lynchpins of my family experience is church. Like many of us, we go to listen, fellowship, and get some Jesus. As I’ve mentioned in this space before, I’m a lapsed black Catholic girl. But, that doesn’t mean dear old Mom has slowed her roll. She has been faithful and true to her church home for over thirty years.

Mother’s Day is one of the occasions that I make sure to attend church with Mom. I really enjoy sharing those moments with her. There are so few things she needs to make her happy, so why not? I was truly looking forward to it. This is the church that I grew up in, where my old school chums and surrogate moms gather to pinch cheeks and catch up on what’s new in my life. Good times.

The church doesn’t have a resident priest at the moment, so there is a rotation of local priests that come to officiate services. This week was my favorite (though mighty long-winded) visitor, Father Gus. He is a 60-something black man with full beard and a warm, welcoming smile. He is interesting, engaging and there isn’t a stuffy, uptight bone in his body. He is the epitome of refreshment in an otherwise regimented, traditionally organized service. This, of course, makes the elderly in the congregation cringe a bit. But, he is just my speed.

As we piled into the pews, I checked out the altar and noticed a black and white sketch drawing of a woman propped up on an easel. The woman was beautiful. She had a short cropped afro, a stylish headband, and hoop earrings. She looked like an artist rendering of a 1970s era black panther.

Service wears on, and finally, Father Gus stands up to speak. After honoring the mothers, speaking of his own dearly departed mommy, and giving his homily (sermon), he refers to the photo behind him. “My dear old friend gave me this photo of the Blessed Virgin Mary many years ago, and I thought it was only right to bring her here today, in honor of Mother’s Day.”

What??

My mind reeled. Did he just say that this portrait was of, gulp, the ‘Blessed Virgin Mary?’ I was floored. I knew the brother was deep, but damn. Father Gus had just rather casually tilted centuries of prevailing wisdom on its axis. By referring to Jesus’ mother as a black woman, he was in effect, for all to hear, confirming to the world that Jesus is a black man.

Now, maybe those of you who worship in various other faiths are thinking, what’s the big deal? Well, for Catholics, the white, long haired, solemn image of Mary is as prevalent and ingrained as breathing. It is a known, non-debatable fact. The images on the walls, the stories, everything goes back to the pure white mother.

Needless to say, service was about to get interesting. I observed the shuffling in the seats, the clearing of throats, and the palpable discomfort of the congregation. It was like a good movie, only better!! Fascinating!

As an avid people watcher, I was intrigued by the collective drama that was unfolding before my eyes. Polite as they are, no one raised a verbal objection. But, the body language spoke volumes.

Even for an entire room of black people, the thought that something they hold dear, the image they pray to, being portrayed as anything other than what they had been taught, was a strange, new and perhaps unnerving feeling. I was a witness to a changing of the guard, and it felt good.

Perhaps, indeed, the times they are a-changing.

Ellene Miles has worked as an entertainment publicist for more than 6 years. Her collections of rants are featured exclusively on UTC for the good of the people.