November has been recognized by the Catholic Church as Black Catholic History Month since 1990. This designation conceived and voted on by the National Black Catholic Clergy Caucus calls the Church to reflect on and celebrate the many contributions of Black Americans to the Church. It is said that the selection of November as the month for this celebration is important for several reasons. It is the month when Catholics celebrate the feasts of All Saints and All Souls, and because November is the birth month of St. Augustine, and when we celebrate the feast of St. Martin de Porres, the first Black saint of the Americas.
As I prepare for this month, I have spent time reading biographical essays about Black Americans that are currently on the pathway to sainthood and reflecting on their journeys of faith. These faithful include the Venerable Pierre Toussant (1766-1853), the generous benefactor to New York City’s orphans, widows, immigrants and Catholic Church; Venerable Mother Mary Elizabeth Lange (circa 1784-1882), the founder of the Oblate Sisters of Providence, America’s first congregation for African American women, and the first Catholic school for African American children; Venerable Henriette Delille (1812-1862), founder of the Sisters of the Holy Family and America’s first Catholic home for the elderly; Venerable Father Augustus Tolton (1854-1897), the first recognized African American priest; Servant of God Julia Greeley (circa 1833 and 1848-1918), Denver’s “Angel of Charity”; and Servant of God Sister Thea Bowman, (1937-1990), a Franciscan Sister of Perpetual Adoration who was an advocate of racial and intercultural diversity in Church liturgy and leadership. The references to the dates of their lives speak volumes as to what they endured: some born into slavery; all but one living during the period of slavery; and Sister Thea Bowman, born in Jim Crow era Mississippi.
Their stories are amazing because of their perseverance, with each one living through some of the worst conditions for Black Americans in this nation’s history. I marvel at the depth of their faith and hope, and their capacity to forgive and to love. It is no wonder the Church has placed them on the pathway to sainthood. Each of their lives embody the greatest commandment Jesus Christ spoke of, that you are to “love your God with all your heart, and with all you soul, and with all your mind,” and “love your neighbor as yourself,” even when they do not love you in turn.
This year I am also mindful of the growing number of studies about the Catholic Church’s role in the enslavement of Black Americans, its treatment of Black Americans within the Church community, and efforts of reconciliation with this history. Publications and research about the Catholic Church’s role during slavery and its aftermath have shed new light on the complicity of the Church in the nation’s oppression and exploitation of Black Americans. We have seen several Catholic universities and colleges examine their own unique history with Black Americans, and like the history of our nation it has been painful, and yet this has led some institutions to find a pathway to reconciliation with that history. This has been something of a renaissance in Black American history, particularly notable in a time when many have debated the appropriateness of Black history in the teaching of American history in our schools or have even revised this history for their convenience and sensibilities.
In 1989, a year before the National Black Clergy Caucus took its vote to designate November as Black Catholic History Month, Sister Thea Bowman addressed the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, becoming the first Black American woman to do so. In her historic address before the bishops, she spoke of the riches of art, science and culture in the “memory” of the Black enslaved men and women who were brought to this country and how they enriched every aspect of life and culture of this nation, despite the oppression they endured and survived over the centuries. She called on the bishops to recognize Black Catholics for who they are and to include them fully in the life of the Church. In her address she repeatedly asked the question “What does it mean to be Black and Catholic?” At one point she asked and answered this question:
“What does it mean to be Black and Catholic? It means that I come to my Church fully functioning. ... I bring myself; my black self, all that I am, all that I have, all that I am, all that I hope to become. I bring my whole history, my traditions, my experience, my culture my African American song and dance and gesture and movement and teaching and preaching and healing and responsibility – as gifts to the Church. I bring a spirituality that ... is contemplative and biblical and holistic, bringing to religion a totality of mind and imagination, of memory, of feeling and passion, and emotion and intensity. A faith that is embodied incarnate praise – a spirituality that knows how to find joy even in the time of sorrow – that steps out on faith that leans on the Lord.”
In these words, I am certain Sister Thea spoke for many Black Catholics. This had to be true for the faithful that my parish of St. Anthony of Padua will remember this November. The Church will display lists of the deceased parishioners along its walls under the Stations of the Cross. I will look for the names of people who embodied the spirituality Sister Thea described and will remember and give thanks for their generous service to St. Anthony’s. I will remember how joyfully they welcomed and ushered everyone to Sunday Mass; lifted us up in song; fed and clothed neighbors in need as they stocked the food pantry and clothing drives; encouraged our faith walk in Baptism, Communion and Confirmation; celebrated our marriages and the births of our children; and consoled us in our time of grief.
While November is especially reserved for our Church to remember these souls collectively, I know that my fellow parishioners and I are individually remembering them throughout the year. And just as November is designated as Black Catholic History Month, it is my hope that the entire Catholic community will join me in making this month a ritual of reflecting on the lives of the Black Americans who are on the pathway to sainthood. I know my remembrance of their perseverance, faith, hope, forgiveness and love will never be limited to one month but will lift me up every time I become daunted by the many challenges of life, including the racial divisiveness that continues to plague our nation, our communities and even our churches. Their examples are transcendent and for us all, whether we are Black American or otherwise.
(Veryl Miles is a lifelong parishioner of St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church in Northeast Washington, D.C., and a professor of law and special assistant to the president at The Catholic University of America.)
