In 1993, while working in a predominantly Afro-Brazilian community with the descendants of the 40% of the African slave trade brought to Brazil, I learned of the existence of the “Black Priests, Bishops and Deacons’ Conference.” That year, the meeting was to be in a diocese not too far from the city of Salvador, where I lived. I rang the hosting bishop, Dom Jairo, himself Afro-Brazilian, and explained that I would like to attend on behalf of my parishioners, 90% Afro-Brazilian, although I was a white Australian. He informed me I would be more than welcome.
So, with an Afro-Brazilian priest friend, Antônio Oliveira, from a neighboring parish, I set out for the diocese of Bonfim. There were about 35 black priests, two black bishops (not many black bishops back then!) and a black deacon. I use the word “black” in the way socially conscious Brazilians of African descent use it: the Portuguese word “Negro” (Black) denotes not just color, but race and cultural identification, nothing to do with the disparaging English word applied to slaves in other parts of the world. The other word for the color black in Brazil is “preto,” and this was certainly used by the slave-owners to denigrate the slaves.
At the conference, we broke into small groups at various times. I felt very conscious of being the only white priest present. On the second-to-last day of the meeting, we had a personal sharing session to say where we were with the meeting. I shared about feeling welcomed by the group, but a bit out of it due to my being the only white priest present. Then, a Jesuit, Fr. Clovis Cabral, empathized with me and shared how he had felt the same way for thirteen years in the Jesuit seminary, since he had been the only black seminarian at the time. We have been close friends ever since.
At the conclusion of the conference, there was a Mass at which a black deacon was to be ordained. Dom Jairo called all the “black priests” to step forward to join him in giving a blessing to the new deacon. Several white priests who worked in the diocese stayed where they were, as did I. One of the black priests who had been with us at the conference stepped back and asked me why I had not stepped forward. I replied, “Well, Dom Jairo did say ‘the black priests’.” Then, my companion tapped his own arm and said, “It’s not about this (skin color)”, and pointing to his heart, he added, “It’s about this. You have assumed our cause, so come on, you are one with us.” I have never looked back, and I have felt very included and welcome at the National Black Priests, Bishops and Deacons’ Conferences since then.
Columban Fr. Colin McLean now lives and works in Australia.
