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A review by leswag97
The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James H. Cone
5.0
James Cone's [b:The Cross and the Lynching Tree|12417679|The Cross and the Lynching Tree|James H. Cone|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1349011636l/12417679._SX50_.jpg|17399595] deals with the complex relationship between the cross of Jesus and the lynching tree in America, "the essential symbol of Christianity and the quintessential emblem of black suffering" (154). Cone walks his readers through the horrific history and reality of lynching in America, fueled by racism (chap. 1), noting the hypocrisy of America as a "Christian" nation, and of Christian theology in America, which has never adequately dealt with "white supremacy, its primary negation" (xvii).
Representative of American Christian theology is Reinhold Niebuhr, who is referred to by some as "America's theologian," and who is the subject of Cone's second chapter. Although impressed by much of Niebuhr's theology and ethical teaching, Cone is quick to call attention to Niebuhr's refusal to deal seriously with racial injustice and white supremacy. Cone rightly critiques Niebuhr's lack of "empathy regarding black suffering in the white community" (57), which is what kept Niebuhr from making a theological and symbolic connection between the cross and the lynching tree. What Niebuhr in particular, and white American theologians in general, failed to recognize, however, Martin Luther King, Jr., did (chap. 3), as did many black poets, artists, singers, and literary giants (chap. 4). These two chapters are, for me, the high points of the book, in which Cone examines the theology and praxis of King (chap. 3), as well as the connections made between Jesus' suffering and black suffering in the black literary tradition (chap. 4). The latter chapter shows the need for prophetic artistic voices in theological work. According to Cone, "Only artists and writers wrestled with the deep religious meaning of the ‘strange fruit’ that littered the American landscape" (95). It was only black creatives and artists—like Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, and W. E. B. Du Bois—who understood that Christ was the "first lynchee." Concerning these artists, Cone writes, “Artists force us to see things we do not want to look at because they make us uncomfortable with ourselves and the world we have created” (117).
Cone brings his book to a close by discussing the important journalistic work of Ida B. Wells in drawing attention to lynching (chap. 5), while also wrestling with the meaning of suffering, as expressed most tragically in the cross and the lynching tree (chap. 5 and Conclusion). Cone makes it clear that he "find[s] nothing redemptive about suffering in itself"; rather, he contends that "[w]hat is redemptive is the faith that God snatches victory out of defeat, life out of death, and hope out of despair, as revealed in the biblical and black proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection" (150). For Cone, Jesus' suffering on the cross is a great paradox, which put on display the evil and senselessness of violence against the innocent, but also the power (in weakness) of God, who is able to bring good out of the worst evil.
By explicitly drawing attention to the relationship between the Roman cross and the American lynching tree, Cone opens up an important, yet difficult, conversation about the reality of black suffering in America, as well as the inability of many white Christian theologians and preachers to see Christ in their black brothers and sisters, and to see their suffering in relation to Christ's suffering (see Matthew 25:31-46). Cone writes, "the lynching tree [helps] to remind Americans of the reality of suffering—to keep the cross from becoming a symbol of abstract, sentimental piety," while the cross "points in the direction of hope, the confidence that there is a dimension to life beyond the reach of the oppressor" (161–162). Both should and must be held together and understood in light of one another. This book is a must-read, and one that I will return to many times.
Representative of American Christian theology is Reinhold Niebuhr, who is referred to by some as "America's theologian," and who is the subject of Cone's second chapter. Although impressed by much of Niebuhr's theology and ethical teaching, Cone is quick to call attention to Niebuhr's refusal to deal seriously with racial injustice and white supremacy. Cone rightly critiques Niebuhr's lack of "empathy regarding black suffering in the white community" (57), which is what kept Niebuhr from making a theological and symbolic connection between the cross and the lynching tree. What Niebuhr in particular, and white American theologians in general, failed to recognize, however, Martin Luther King, Jr., did (chap. 3), as did many black poets, artists, singers, and literary giants (chap. 4). These two chapters are, for me, the high points of the book, in which Cone examines the theology and praxis of King (chap. 3), as well as the connections made between Jesus' suffering and black suffering in the black literary tradition (chap. 4). The latter chapter shows the need for prophetic artistic voices in theological work. According to Cone, "Only artists and writers wrestled with the deep religious meaning of the ‘strange fruit’ that littered the American landscape" (95). It was only black creatives and artists—like Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, and W. E. B. Du Bois—who understood that Christ was the "first lynchee." Concerning these artists, Cone writes, “Artists force us to see things we do not want to look at because they make us uncomfortable with ourselves and the world we have created” (117).
Cone brings his book to a close by discussing the important journalistic work of Ida B. Wells in drawing attention to lynching (chap. 5), while also wrestling with the meaning of suffering, as expressed most tragically in the cross and the lynching tree (chap. 5 and Conclusion). Cone makes it clear that he "find[s] nothing redemptive about suffering in itself"; rather, he contends that "[w]hat is redemptive is the faith that God snatches victory out of defeat, life out of death, and hope out of despair, as revealed in the biblical and black proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection" (150). For Cone, Jesus' suffering on the cross is a great paradox, which put on display the evil and senselessness of violence against the innocent, but also the power (in weakness) of God, who is able to bring good out of the worst evil.
By explicitly drawing attention to the relationship between the Roman cross and the American lynching tree, Cone opens up an important, yet difficult, conversation about the reality of black suffering in America, as well as the inability of many white Christian theologians and preachers to see Christ in their black brothers and sisters, and to see their suffering in relation to Christ's suffering (see Matthew 25:31-46). Cone writes, "the lynching tree [helps] to remind Americans of the reality of suffering—to keep the cross from becoming a symbol of abstract, sentimental piety," while the cross "points in the direction of hope, the confidence that there is a dimension to life beyond the reach of the oppressor" (161–162). Both should and must be held together and understood in light of one another. This book is a must-read, and one that I will return to many times.