Jacksonville Reflections - church/hypocrisy (#0316)

Southside Methodist – the family church for most of my mother’s side of the family, though three of us boys stopped going as soon as we could. My memories of it are largely negative, as a site for social status discrimination. My mother was a founding member and always active at the church, and the ministers and staff were almost always friendly, but the congregation was a different story. In a congregation dominated by white-collar families, our hand-me-down clothes, well-used cars, relatively rundown house, and blue-collar father meant that the ‘christian’ message of inclusion didn’t extend to our being part of the social circles of the other kids – the constant babble about parties and fun trips was alien to us. Though it was often frustrating, it seems we learned to take the rejection as natural, not as indicative of there being anything wrong with us. Though I didn’t have language for it then, that was the beginning for two important skills: 1) a questioning of any person or structure that espoused strong belief systems, and 2) an intimate understanding of the mechanics of inequality and discrimination.

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That congregational rejection had one positive effect – the rule in my family had been that the children could get out of going to church when they were old enough to drive (age 16), but I got out earlier at about 13. That age exception was due to my parent’s divorce in a time when divorce was still rare and the formerly married were often socially ostracized. Though shunned after the divorce by many in the congregation, and having lost many closer friends, my mother had a small number of friends that stuck with her (as did the pastoral staff) and so she kept going -- but for some reason she let me stop. I never knew why, but she did get flack from my brothers for having let me quit at a younger age.

Though I thought I was done with that church and the congregation’s hypocrisy, there was yet another reminder many decades later at my mother’s funeral. Though she had been a founding member, had spent many years working to keep social groups active, and had been part of the clergy selection process that shaped the direction of the church, none of her history was mentioned and there was no one from the church at her funeral, other than a presiding retired pastor. It had always seemed that mother had thought of the church as a route to at least acceptance by the middle class – it wasn’t.

(Part of a photo-essay series on personal history and race with keyword FlaAla0518)