"Letters From the Exiles": Letter 3
Graphic by James Gocke and Abby Miller
The opinions reflected in this OpEd are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of staff, faculty and students of The King's College.
Dear Kingsians,
My silence on social media regarding racial injustice over the last two months has been intentional. That silence is not indicative of a denial of racial injustice’s existence or the necessity of addressing it—if it has been perceived that way and caused you pain, I am deeply sorry. For the first month or so, my silence stemmed from my decision to talk with close friends who have been on the receiving end of racism, and to do my own research apart from social media and news outlets. Books such as Jemar Tisby’s “The Color of Compromise”, Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith’s “Divided by Faith”, and Thomas Sowell’s “A Conflict of Visions” have been especially helpful for me.
As time passed, however, my silence resulted from my not knowing how to respond and my fear of responding to arguments that seemed to paint all American founders as racist. As someone pursuing graduate study in early American history, I genuinely believe some of these arguments are valid. Certain founders owned and failed to free slaves, actively supporting and continuing chattel slavery. However, I have not known what to do when some of these arguments seem to discourage nuance, preventing us from honestly wrestling with figures who both owned slaves at some point in their lives and were abolitionists. I fear that my writing on this will further fragment or inhibit this discussion at King’s—please know that increased division is not my intent. I do not expect everyone reading this to agree with my perspective, and I truly do respect, welcome, and want to learn from your experiences. Rather, I hope and pray that this letter is an invitation to stand shoulder to shoulder as we, even and especially from different vantage points, confront the consequences of our nation’s common sin, seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
When I began researching for this letter, I honestly thought I would find more founders like Elias Boudinot. A lifelong Presbyterian hailing from Elizabeth, New Jersey, Boudinot was an influential figure throughout the American Revolution and Founding Era. Following his political career in Congress, he helped found and served as the first president of the American Bible Society. Furthermore, he actively advocated against slavery. He recognized slavery as a national sin for which America, if it failed to repent, would one day suffer divine judgment. By 1820, while he did not want the Union to dissolve, he admitted he would accept peaceful dissolution if it meant northerners like himself would be rid of southern slaveholders’ immoral desires.
Instead of finding more Boudinots, I discovered Christian abolitionists who nevertheless owned slaves. Among them, the individual I found most confusing was John Jay. Author of five Federalist Papers and first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Jay recognized the hypocrisy inherent in American chattel slavery. In a 1785 letter to Dr. Richard Price, Jay wrote, “That men should pray and fight for their own freedom, and yet keep others in slavery, is certainly acting a very inconsistent as well as unjust and, perhaps, impious part.” That same year, Jay helped found the New York Manumission Society and served as its president until he became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. The Manumission Society “protest[ed] the practice of kidnapping and transporting blacks for sale in other states….[and] provided assistance to slaves and former slaves in need of legal representation.” Jay supported and raised funds for education for African Americans, founding the New York African Free School in 1781. As governor of New York, he introduced a bill for gradual abolition into the state legislature four times until it was finally passed in 1799.
Nonetheless, at the same time that he engaged in these abolitionist efforts, Jay owned slaves, explaining this practice in a 1780 letter to Egbert Benson: “I purchase slaves and manumit them at proper ages and when their faithful services shall have afforded a reasonable retribution.” Jay essentially treated his slaves like indentured servants, freeing them after their work for him was equal to the money he paid for them.
Honestly, I don’t know what to do with this information. Given coronavirus and the fact that I am writing this letter from my childhood bedroom, I lack access to the necessary resources to research this further in an attempt to flesh out how Jay reconciled owning slaves with his abolitionist work and Christian faith. Based on my limited research, my hope is that he believed he provided his slaves with a livelihood and protection until they were in a position to support themselves independently. If that was his reasoning, while I can applaud his motives, I must strongly disagree with his methods. However, Jay is long dead and unable to answer for himself, so on this side of the grave, I can do nothing more than make educated guesses.
The founders were not demigods—they failed to exhibit certain standards of virtue, righteousness and justice in particular areas of their lives. Given this, I truly think there is space to condemn their sins and the far-reaching effects of those sins, while simultaneously recognizing the noble acts they did undertake. John Jay purchased slaves, and for that he should be confronted as much and as fairly as we are able. Yet we cannot ignore and must wrestle with the fact that his work as an abolitionist took place at this time, without which many antislavery efforts in New York would not have succeeded. Moreover, his abolitionist efforts set an example for his son William, who “was one of the most significant American abolitionists of the nineteenth century” (Jonathan Den Hartog’s “Patriotism and Piety” discusses William’s efforts extensively). I challenge anyone to find an abolitionist who argued more passionately against slavery on moral and spiritual grounds, whose work arguably began by following in his father’s abolitionist footsteps.
I keep wondering if we, as Christians, are particularly equipped, perhaps even given the responsibility, to explore the depths of historical nuance such as this, in all its extremes of horror and beauty, because we have witnessed that nuance in ourselves. As Christians, before any other identifying label, we have a responsibility to leave room in the current conversation and efforts toward racial justice for the redemption our Savior offered us. That responsibility does not entail denying the evil of sin; rather, it requires us to flesh that evil out in all its unsavory detail and call for appropriate justice under our earthly rule of law. Yet, it is precisely that unsavory detail and warranted earthly justice that allows us to see heavenly redemption as the completely undeserved, confusing, life-restoring thing that it is, and extend it unreservedly to others as it was extended unreservedly to us.
In Christ,
Rachel