Introducing Trespasses of the Holy

History + theology + neighborhood development + stirring the pot

In 1960, the city of Charlotte sent a representative to Hazeline Riddick Anderson’s door to tell her that they were buying her property at 625 E. 2nd Street, in the former Brooklyn neighborhood. They made her an offer that she could not refuse, quite literally. She was the first Black landowner forced to sell in advance of the city razing 238 acres of a living, thriving neighborhood. The city’s project was administered locally, and funded primarily by the federal government’s Urban Renewal program.

A few years later, after Anderson’s home had been hauled off in a dump truck, along with the homes of more than 1,000 other families, the city auctioned off three large lots. One of the auction winners was First Baptist Church, then one of the most prominent congregations in the Southern Baptist Convention. The First Baptist building today sits on top Hazeline Anderson’s former home, which she inherited from her parents, both of whom were born enslaved.

This photo comes from another of Charlotte’s federally-funded Urban Renewal projects. On the bulldozer is Raymond King, local redevelopment commission chair and beloved Sunday School teacher. Photo from July 1970, from archives of Charlotte News. Used with permission.

Many people have written about Urban Renewal. Groups around the country are working to preserve the memory of neighborhoods destroyed by Urban Renewal projects, and to seek restorative justice. This is right, as the center of these stories should be the communities and the people whose lives were uprooted by Urban Renewal. But there is almost no work anywhere focused on the history and theology of the period as it relates to white churches and white Christians. At first glance, the connections probably seem too obvious to be that interesting.

But as I started digging in the various archives around Charlotte, I found fascinating and illuminating stories that have rarely, if ever, been told. My focus has honed in on the people who planned the projects, held official positions, forced the property sales, ran the public relations, and profited from the spoils. They all sat in pews on Sunday mornings. They worshiped under the tall steeples of both conservative and progressive churches. Then, they helped crank the bulldozers Monday through Friday. Their work created a city and a history built on “exclusions and invisibilities,” in Avery Gordon’s words.

So I’ve tracked those people down (in the archives, primarily, but I’ve found a few who were there). I’ve found some of the sermons they were hearing, the hymns they were singing, and the scriptures they were reading. I’ve interviewed their children. I’ve been looking for how their trespasses have made material differences in their institutions, and have done material harm in the lives of those displaced. I’m looking for the threads of how the story of their time persists in ours. And, I’m trying to own my place in that story, for it is deeply rooted in the Christianity practiced by people who “think they are white,” in Baldwin’s phrase.

This is not just a writing project, though it is that. It is a reckoning with the hauntings caused by white Christianity. Our people have always been occupiers in this land, and on top of that, owners of an economy built on the plunder of other people’s labor. Our debts keep multiplying, reinventing themselves in new forms that barely disguise our old sins. We cannot beg for forgiveness for our trespasses unless we are willing to tell stories on ourselves, and make repairs, and correct the theological architecture that propped it all up. Writing is good because it helps to discern the words that shape actions of material and ideological repair. But I’m most interested in the repair. And I’m taking this directly into the sanctuaries and Sunday School rooms and pastoral studies of some key congregations within Charlotte, and hopefully in some other towns as well.

But, one other result of this project will be a book, for which I should have a contract soon. I hope you’ll see it sometime in 2023. I want it to be a helpful tool for documenting stories and ideas.

Here’s what will happen when you subscribe to this newsletter:

• You’ll get a few sneak peeks into my research and writing as it develops.

• I will post irregularly for the next 6 months while I finish the book manuscript that is putting all of this story to paper.

• After that, I’ll become more regular, and will expand to offer a paid subscription. I’ll write around the theme “Trespasses of the Holy,” exploring development, housing, neighborhoods, and our relationship to land space with a theological eye.

• I’ll offer a number of engagements with the readings and mentors who are informing this project. I’m especially excited to talk about Avery Gordon’s incredible work on hauntings, and to introduce some of you to Ched Myers and Elaine Enns, who are doing brilliant theological work around the same subject.

• I’ll also write some about practical tools. Lots of folks have been asking me about research methods and sources. I’ve learned a lot from the community of historians here in Charlotte, and I’ll write some about what I’ve learned and how to access various sources.

In the meantime, if you want to learn more, here are a couple of ways to get some further looks into the project:

• I have a piece in the new Geez magazine. It is currently print only, but we might get that changed if there is enough interest. I highly recommend Geez. One of the best publications around. Subscribe, and they’ll send you the current issue on dismantling white supremacy.

• I’m presenting several times soon. October 16 at Charlotte Justice Conference; Oct 21 (online only) with Union Presbyterian Seminary’s “Dangerous Dialogues;” and November 6 at Myers Park Baptist’s “Confronting Whiteness” conference.

• My ongoing series of “Walking Charlotte as Labyrinth” explores some of the stories. Follow QC Family Tree on Facebook for upcoming dates for those, or contact me directly to schedule one for your group.

I’m really excited about this work and its possibilities. I look forward to sharing more and hearing from you.