A sermon by a former parishioner, on personal, historical, and racial trauma

As many of your know, I was a pastor for 24 years with an amazing congregation (crcc.org). I had the privilege of watching Sal Fratanduono grow up during those years … and now it’s a joy to see him living his faith in such a constructive way — in his his city and his personal life. He was recently invited to give a sermon that he shared with me, and I thought many of you might find it instructive and helpful. (Thanks, Sal, for permission to share this.)

Not many have the courage to step into these waters! I’m deeply impressed with Sal and with his message here. You might feel it would resonate with a friend or relative, or gently invite them into what is meaningful for you. Sal is involved with a beautiful group in Richmond Virginia called One Day. Thanks be to God for amazing groups carrying on this work, even as other oppose it out of malice and/or ignorance.

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Good morning, Church. My name is Sal Fratanduono, and I’m so encouraged and blessed to be here this morning with all of you. Many of us have likely not been together in the same physical space since this same event last year. And a lot can happen in the span of that one year. For me personally, these 12 months have offered much good, but also its fair share of pain and sorrow. For several people close to me, this has been an extremely difficult year.

First and foremost, someone very near and dear to me, who I’ll call Bella, recently discovered that when she was still very young, she suffered terrible abuse at the hands of her trusted family member. In the uncovering of this hidden secret abuse, Bella has suffered through unimaginable, complex trauma.

First, the trauma of deep betrayal, hurt, vulnerability and shame from the personal violation she suffered from her older loved one, who should have played the role of protector, not abuser.

But she has also experienced a different kind of pain and trauma, stemming from the response, or lack of response, of many of her other family members. Bella has had her abuse brushed under the rug and even outright denied by those close to her who are unwilling to face the ugly truth of the terrible actions committed by their shared loved one. There has been gaslighting and victim blaming and shaming, to the point that Bella was treated as the problem for even attempting to acknowledge and process the pain of the deep wounds she suffered.

And then to top it off, she’s also had to mourn the loss of the tight-knit family she thought she had, and would always have. As she said to me, “I thought these were my people, my ‘ride or dies’”. This ordeal has introduced deep fractures in the foundation of her entire family unit, which has also made her feel responsible for “ruining the family.”

It’s been heartbreaking for me to watch Bella bear all of this trauma. More than anything she needs rest and safe people willing to sit with her and cry and lament with her. Far too few have answered that simple, yet painful, call.

Trauma care experts tell us that leaning on loved ones is one of the very most effective ways of processing trauma, because trauma often leads to shame and isolation. Empathetic loved ones can often help lift the veil of darkness associated with trauma, bringing in light. But Bella’s experience also highlights the other side of that coin – the devastating effect that people close to us can have when they instead deepen the pain and trauma, through their actions and inactions.

Let me pause here for a second and discuss the elephant in the room – this is heavy stuff, and we don’t normally talk about trauma and abuse in church, do we? At least not in the churches I’ve attended.

And that’s curious, because outside of church, conversations about trauma and its effects have skyrocketed. In fact, many of us here have probably read books like “The Body Keeps the Score” or listened to Brene Brown or other podcasters educating their listeners about how trauma manifests in our minds, bodies and spirits. Some of our doctors likely now advertise providing ‘trauma informed care’. Yet in my experience, when it comes to church and our ‘polite’ Christian circles, we prefer to talk about less emotional framings. We may acknowledge brokenness through the lens of sin, or The Fall. Perhaps we talk about how prayer and perseverance can counteract the causes of continuing suffering. We may imply that giving your life to Jesus should erase the effects of pain and trauma. Or perhaps we prefer to point out that we all have had to suffer through hardship so it’s best to just get over it, and pick yourself up by your bootstraps!

But what I have found this year in my experience with Bella is that what she needs is not motivational advice or self help tips or even a great sermon. She needs compassion, empathy, vulnerability. She needs relationships where she can just be seen and accepted in her dark night of the soul. To lament with safe people who won’t minimize or judge or rush her grieving process.

Sadly, this is not the only example of someone close to me processing their traumas in this past year. Several of my African American friends have experienced a different type of trauma, specifically racial trauma. What is racial trauma? Sheila Wise Rowe, author of the book “Healing Racial Trauma”, breaks racial trauma into 3 categories:

First: Historical trauma, which is passed down through generations not only through stories, but research suggests intense or repeated traumas can alter a person’s DNA, influencing the health of future generations.
Second: Vicarious trauma, which is seeing and feeling the racial trauma of others. It’s the secondhand smoke of trauma, that can have adverse effects on physical, emotional and cognitive wellness
The third type of racial trauma that Rowe highlights is Gaslighting, being told your truth isn’t true, and perhaps even being blamed for the very hurts and injustices you are suffering at the hands of the offending party or group.

Rowe goes on to say that incidents of racial trauma can go to the core identity of a person, and can build upon people of color in heavy and burdensome ways over extended periods of time.

Unfortunately, the friends I’ve spoken with have experienced all 3 of these types of racial trauma. As the descendents of former slaves and subsequent generations who suffered through segregation and Jim Crow brutality, historical trauma was baked into their beings from birth. Experts tell us that historical trauma is cumulative and reverberates across generations, with descendents showing many of the tell tale signs and symptoms of trauma suffered by their ancestors.

My friends have also, like so many of us in this era of body cams and cell phones, experienced repeated vicarious trauma, watching videos and hearing countless stories of black bodies brutalized in present day America at the hands of white Americans, some of which were paid to protect and serve them. Instead of just seeing a stranger beaten or killed, which is bad enough, they see the unjust brutalization against someone who could just as easily be their own father or brother or aunt or nephew or sister or son.

Now here’s the really amazing thing: Rather than funnel this pain and trauma into resentment or fear, my friends have done the opposite – actively spending their time, energy, and spiritual gifts on bridge building, looking to bring the supernatural restorative, healing power of Jesus into white Christian spaces. But unfortunately, their efforts have been, more often than not, met with responses from their white brethren that made them feel more isolated, misunderstood, diminished, and in the end, retraumatized.

They were met with insensitive remarks, microaggressions, an unwillingness to engage deeply and fully in meaningful conversations around race and injustice. They were often left feeling like the token black person at the table, or ‘the black friend’, invited to be in the room but not share the actual power in defining problems or solutions. Their very real and powerful personal experiences and expertise were not invited into the room. Nobody asked them how they were doing and feeling. Nobody listened to their pain or engaged in shared understanding.

I have been heartbroken to see these friends who have poured so much of themselves into difficult, essential missionary reconciliation and healing work… left feeling exhausted, hurt, angry, emotionally drained and even needing professional counseling, all as a result of their interactions with those who are meant to be their brothers and sisters in Christ.

Would you blame these folks if they were to give up on their dream of racial reconciliation? Would you blame them for not pouring even more of themselves into shallow, one sided relationships?
Would you blame them for instead choosing interactions where they felt seen, heard, able to bring and be their full selves, as opposed to being thrust into a role set by the dominant culture? Would you blame them for counseling other Black Christians to think twice before engaging meaningfully in white Christian spaces?

I don’t have any advice or solutions for these friends, any more than I have advice or solutions for Bella. All I have to give is my friendship and my lament. To meet them where they’re at and allow myself to try to listen, understand, and empathize. To mourn with those who mourn.

In short, I can choose to love them.

Would you pray with me?

Lord, we humbly come before you this morning to acknowledge and lament the racial trauma which is a tragic, multi-generational cornerstone of the Black experience in this country. We lament our Black brothers and sisters’ experience of feeling unseen, devalued, disrespected and desperate. We lament that, when faced with hard truths about race and racism, the response from the church has far too often been one of dismissiveness and defensiveness, of gaslighting and victim blaming, of pride and condescension. Lord, we lament what the church has done, and what we have left undone. We have to date missed the opportunity to be a city on a hill in a divided nation, bringing empathy, listening and compassion, lament and repentance. A Spirit-filled force for healing and unity within your body.

Lord, do what we have not, and comfort all your children who are still far too often suffering pain and anguish and trauma in this place we call home.

Lord, rescue us from our pain and brokenness. When you return, will you find your bride whole, or divided? Will we be working together for You as one man, or will we be disembodied, unwilling or unable to join together to build your kingdom?

If we are not one body, but many, who will the bridegroom choose as His bride? And how can we be one when the groans of the very heart of the body are ignored by its other parts? A house divided against itself cannot stand.

Lord, give us your eyes to fully see and acknowledge each other. May we break bread together, learn each others’ stories, share in each others’ triumphs and pains, worship in celebration and lament together. We pray to become creatures of the light, generously, joyfully giving of our own time and possessions and comforts for the healing and wellness of our neighbor.”

Lord, may it be so.

Amen
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For more on One Day, see https://www.wtvr.com/news/local-news/one-day-one-step-richmond-sept-7-2024