Book Report: “The Cross and the Lynching Tree” by James H. Cone
Understanding Racial Violence through the Cross of Christ
When he was a child growing up in rural Arkansas, James Cone worried when his father came home late from work. He feared his daddy may have been lynched.
His dad always came home. But Cone’s fears reveal the reality that for millions of black Americans, the threat of public lynching had done its work in further terrorizing an already oppressed minority population.
Following the humiliation of the Civil War, white southern racists reasserted control over their states by fomenting racial violence and stringing up hundreds of innocent black victims. During the “Lynching Era” of 1880-1940, several thousand blacks were murdered in a most unimaginable manner, hung from tree limbs like—in the immortal words of Billie Holiday—“strange fruit”. Huge crowds of white onlookers gathered to watch lynchings, which were practiced as “extra-judicial punishments,” necessary to protect white women from the black men many southerners believed harbored evil, violent intent. Communities posed for pictures in front of the bodies, mailing postcards with the image to their relatives. Meanwhile, politicians in Washington D.C. repeatedly defeated anti-lynching legislation. (Congress formally apologized for this legislative crime in 2005.)
Instead of giving in to this culture of fear and powerlessness, Cone found his place in the black liberation movement of the 1960s. He also found his salvation in Jesus Christ, going on to become one of America’s most prominent black Christian theologians, teaching at Union Seminary for many years.
Hung from A Tree
While authoring several books, “The Cross and the Lynching Tree” contains what is the central theme of Cone’s writing: the religious symbolism of the lynching tree as the so-called cross many black Americans had to bear for the cause of freedom. In much the same way Jesus was executed on the cross, innocent victims suffered violently and unjustly in the South, having their mangled bodies displayed to intimidate others, oftentimes at the hands of powerful religious people bearing the name “Christian.” To cope with this constant threat and the pain of losing family and community members in such a horrific manner, many in the black community came to see the lynching tree as their symbolic cross to bear. Black artists, poets and musicians helped make the connection, which Cone ably demonstrates. Indeed, black America was able to endure the humiliation and torture of the lynching tree because the legacy of a crucified (and risen) Savior had worked its way into their cultural consciousness.
In Cone’s mind, the cross and lynching tree need each other. The symbols interpret the other. The lynching tree “frees the cross from the pieties of well-meaning Christians…when we see the crucifixion as a first-century lynching, we are confronted by the re-enactment of Christ’s suffering in the blood-soaked history of African-Americans.” The tree “keeps the cross from being a symbol of abstract, sentimental piety.” Frankly put, we are reminded by the tree that sometimes the cause of righteousness leads to our death. It’s not just a pretty symbol that hangs ‘round our neck, but an image reminding us of our calling to stretch out our neck and die, as the saints before us did.
Conversely, the lynching tree needs the cross. Without the cross, the tree is an abomination: “It is the cross that points in the direction of hope, the confidence that there is a dimension to life beyond the reach of the oppressor: ‘Do not fear those who kill the body, and after that can do nothing’ (Lk. 12:4).” As Jesus rose again, so will his black saints.
Understanding the Pain, and the Stain
I was challenged by Cones’ book. It was referenced at a recent conference on church and racial unity in St. Louis. I don’t read a lot of black theologians, so I took the hint. I will never be black, but want to understand better (to whatever extent I can) what it’s like being a black American in a country nursed on the blood of slaves. I want to be able to step outside my comfortable, privileged existence to see what life is like for those who descended from a systemically and violently oppressed ancestry. As a Christian pastor, I want to do what I can to help my congregation see the historic and still-present realities of racial injustice, so they can be a part of the solution.
To that end, “The Cross and the Lynching Tree” helps me understand the lingering pain of racial violence. These are not crimes of the past, but stains that have not been removed. Cone also offers a way forward through the cross of Christ and his willingness to die for the rightness of his cause. The image of the lynching tree as African Americans’ redemptive cross to bear will linger in my mind for a long time.
Two Quibbles
At the same time, there is much to debate in Cone’s work. For example, he repeatedly refers to slavery and lynching as America’s “greatest sin.” I am not disagreeing, but would point out that white evangelicals have the same conviction concerning the evil of abortion. I have heard this debate in many ways, subtle and overt. The which-is-worse-abortion-or-racial-injustice tension is one that really does keep white and black Christians from working together in greater unity. Do we really need to have a greatest national sin to get on the same page in the fight against injustice?
Also, in Cone’s interpretation of the work of Jesus on the cross, he rejects the idea that Jesus died vicariously in our place for the punishment of sin. In his opinion, such theologizing isn’t that important to the black community. They found solace in the cross of Christ not because of some theological interpretation of what actually happened on the cross, but because they felt that the Suffering Servant understood what exactly they were suffering through.
Yes, Jesus does understand our suffering as one who hung on a cross. But Jesus himself (along with Paul and others) explains that something important happened on the cross: the ransom for sins (Mt. 20:28). In rejecting the theology of the atonement, Cone rejects much of the New Testament, as well as the Old.
But those matters aside, I have much to learn from James Cone. I am glad his father came home night after night. And I’m sad that other fathers didn’t. If black Americans find solace, meaning and hope in the cross of Jesus Christ in their struggle against racial violence, then I praise God for that. I just wish they didn’t need to.
-MRH (May 27, 2019)