The
evils of racism are expressed in the words we speak and the mores we establish.
And both emerge from the illusion of superiority.
Jackie
Robinson, as a black American in the 1940s and 1950s, was thrown into the fire
of both when he entered major league baseball in 1947, breaking the sport’s
color barrier. The movie, “42,” named after Robinson’s jersey number, depicts
the dramatic events of that year.
As
“42” reminds us, black Americans who had fought for liberty in World War II
returned to a United States with separate drinking fountains, restrooms, and
hotels. Blacks were banned from playing in major league baseball. They had
their own separate black league.
That
was the way it was until Branch Rickey, General Manager and President of the Brooklyn
Dodgers, decided to integrate the game.
Rickey
was motivated by a moral imperative grounded in the tradition of Christian
social activism that had long characterized his Methodist denomination. One
reason Rickey liked Robinson was that he too was a Methodist: “He’s a
Methodist,” Rickey growled to an assistant. “I’m a Methodist; God’s a
Methodist.”
It’s
not surprising that Rickey appealed to Robinson’s faith in persuading the fiery
young athlete to “turn the other cheek,” when insulted because of his skin
color. And Rickey warned the baseball talent that he, like Jesus Christ, would
have a cross to bear. Rickey was looking for a man “with the guts not to fight
back.”
It
would take someone of strong faith to endure the afflictions of prejudice, but
in so doing, that person would pave the way for a new wave of players who
weren’t white.
Jackie
Robinson was that person.
The
battle would be brutal; the attacks against him ugly. Many of his teammates
signed a petition demanding Robinson not be allowed to play on the Dodgers ball
team, and there are scenes in the movie that are difficult to watch, like the
one where Philadelphia Phillies manager Ben Chapman crawls like a snake out of the
dugout, spewing racial slurs at Robinson. Hearing the n-word repeated over and
over jars our ears. Sadly, the portrayal of Chapman’s prejudice is not far from
the historical record. “Nigger, nigger, nigger,” Chapman repeatedly taunted
Robinson. And that was the nicest thing
he said to Robinson as he stepped into the batter’s box.
It
was his Christian faith that enabled Robinson to stand his ground while not
retaliating. That faith was not something he acquired in 1947. As an
All-American football star at UCLA, Robinson refused to sleep in on Sunday
after the exhausting Saturday game. He made time for church.
Indeed,
Robinson is said to have spent every night of that memorable 1947 season on his
knees in prayer.
It
was his faith that kept his emotions in check so he could continue to play the
game. Robinson did fight back; it was just not with his fists, it was with his
performance. His play on the field helped the Dodgers to the World Series and
earned Robinson the Rookie of the Year award.
But
Robinson’s strength of character would result in much more than sports honors.
Negro League baseball star and former Robinson teammate, Buck O’ Neil, has said
the civil rights movement began in 1947 when Robinson crossed the color line in
baseball. Indeed, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. said of Robinson: “He was a
sit-inner before sit-ins, a freedom rider before freedom rides.”
Robinson’s
stalwart faith not only empowered him in confronting the system of racism, it guided
him in doing the right thing at the right time.
The
issues we face today are different than they were when Robinson first stepped
onto the field on April 15, 1947 or when Rosa Parks refused to sit in the back
of the bus on December 1, 1955. But racial discrimination still exists. And
prejudice is a reality.
As
Americans engage in a debate about immigration reform and the rights of
undocumented citizens, we would do well to look to the example of Jackie
Robinson.
.
And coupling faith with courage, simply do the right thing.
.
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