“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. And isn’t it the darkness of a stormy life that often produces thunderbolts of consciousness that awaken us to the world around us?” ~ Carl Jung
And yet some darkness seems so impenetrable — like the dark side of the moon — or the dark depths of racism memorialized in the United States Constitution:
Article IV, Section 2, Clause 3: No Person held to Service or Labour in one State, under the Laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein, be discharged from such Service or Labour, but shall be delivered up on Claim of the Party to whom such Service or Labour may be due.
Such darkness is even to be found in the the Bible:
“Slaves, be subject to your masters with all reverence, not only to those who are good and equitable but also to those who are perverse.” 1 Peter 2:18
Here’s how my friend Joe Thomas describes his experience of when his conscience was awakened.
As a child I lived next door to the Grand Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan of the Gulf Coast. One morning his son met up with me on the way to school and joyously reported his dad, the night before, had killed a “n…….. .“
Terrified, I turned tail and ran home to tell my mother what I’d just heard. She listened intently then took me aside and told me how wrong it was, how very wrong — but that I must never, ever speak of it again.
But from somewhere, and I don’t really know where, I was stricken by a thunderbolt. That’s the only explanation for my inordinate supply of human compassion. I’ve always been for the underdog, always for the downtrodden. I’ve been known to break down in tears at the sight of innocent suffering.
Undoubtedly, this compassion helped with growing up in the South. From the start, I found it quite easy to identify with the downtrodden. After all, it was not only my neighbors but my own self that was downtrodden. I was just as poor, just as sad, as many of my Black acquaintances.
But I had a leg up. After all, I was white and being white I was treated favorably by the segregated south. My family lived in government housing. No Blacks received such a government benefit. I went to good schools where no Blacks would even dream of attending. Medical care, I had it. We had parks and baseball fields where Blacks were not allowed. Swimming pools, definitely not allowed.
But, the thunderbolt! 
That is largely unexplainable. All I know is I felt one with those who grasped the struggle to overcome.
When I was a freshman in high school a teacher made a comment that really stood out for me. She explained that the reason a Negro was likely to buy a large car was because the road was the only place they were treated equally. Why that stuck in my mind I don’t know. But it was another thunderbolt. I can feel it to this day.
That same year I got involved in the Methodist church. The gospel somehow penetrated my shell of a self. God made all of us. The Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of man became a central focus that motivated me to want to study theology.
One summer I got a job with Trailways Bus Station, one side for Blacks and the other for whites. In addition to loading and unloading buses I had the task of sweeping and mopping floors, including the bathrooms. Separate, of course!
Blacks must have had their very own baseball fields, I thought. Otherwise, what would account for the fact that there are five Hall of Famers from my home town of Mobile? (They are Hank Aaron, Satchell Paige, Willie Mccovey, Billie Williams, and Ozzie Smith. Other great players not in the Hall of Fame include Tommie Agee and a host of others.) To this day, of course, I don’t know where those fields were.
I felt how very little their sense of dignity must have been. I made sure to address them as “Sir” and “Ma’am.” Even now, at 82 years old, I make a conscious effort to do this.
I can only imagine how this inequity affected the Black members of our human family. Shamefully, it took me too long to fully recognize how they would begrudge the racist laws and customs that crippled their lot in life. ~ Joe Thomas
How do we all become free from the many layers and subtleties of racism that continue to plague us and cause suffering for our brothers and sisters?
Perhaps an answer to why this is so difficult can be found in Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.
Click to enjoy this 3-minute video.
Oh, that we all could hear that thunderbolt and find our way out of the cave.
Just a thought…
Pat and Joe