Black and Christian in Spain

Praise the Lord, Saints.

So, I'm a Christian of the Baptist denomination. I try to do the right thing and follow the teachings of my Lord, though I fail daily. Before coming to Spain, I resolved to continue to practice my faith while here. So, because of a friend who'd studied in Madrid the summer before my arrival, I found Immanuel Baptist Church, an English-speaking church that is, of course, Baptist (which surprised me, as I was just going for non-Catholic and in my native tongue). I attend on a fairly regular basis and the church nourishes me spiritually while I continue to try to live a Godly life. 

Sounds like the end of the story, right? 

But you know there's about to be some randomness involving Spaniards.

I'm not a pious Christian who just has to let the world know that I go to church on Sundays and that I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ, His Son, our Lord. That's just not me. I'd rather live as a Christian and let my actions be a testament to my faith than tout how often I go to church, pray, etc. However, when people--coworkers, friends at my gym--ask me about my weekend, I tend to include that I went to church, since it's typically part of my Sunday routine. For those who have gotten to know me, they've come to accept that. However, when Spaniards discover for the first time that I'm a Christian and actually attend church here, this is what they believe I do: 

Now, I won't lie and say that the churches I've attended in the States haven't gone there before. I'm a Black Baptist from the South; of course we've had those moments. However, my church here in Spain, while it is of the same denomination, consists of a different atmosphere. We sing more soothing songs and have never, in my months there, had any sort of praise break. When I try to explain this to Spaniards, they seem a little let down, like, "Oh, how can she be black and a Christian and not do the foot-stomping hand-clapping rendition of church? #lame."

As things stand today in this adopted country of mine, church is something of an anomaly. The post-Franco generations of Spaniards aren't inclined to believe in any higher power, so they fact that I do makes me something of an enigma. However, some people seem to expect me to be a Christian because I'm African American and that's what we do...right? Indeed, during my first week of work, some of my students asked me if I sang Gospel music. This is what they were expecting:

Actually, that's the mildest representation of what they thought I did when I sang Gospel, since I apparently must. Here's a more accurate depiction (start at 14:28):

How disappointed they were when I informed them that I don't sing. Again, it was one of those, "Wait, how is that possible?" moments. 

Now, I've said all of this just to find out recently that people thought this is what I did at a Catholic Church! My knowledge of the Catholic Church is limited to its historical context in Europe, a few facts about Pope John Paul II (he was a fascinating man), some miscellaneous knowledge that I've picked up over the years, following the current search for a new Pope with only loose interest, and having attended one Mass and a funeral. That being said, I didn't think the Catholic Church really rolled with the tambourine-wielding, praise break, speaking in tongues thing. Enter a cross-cultural discussion. 

A few weeks back, some Spanish friends asked if I had gone to church and I said that I'd missed it. They then teased me by saying that I wasn't a good Catholic girl and I replied that I wasn't a Catholic girl at all. Mouths. Dropped. Open. when I said that I was Baptist. Their next question was, "So you're not Christian?" Apparently, Catholics are Christian and everybody else is, well...not. So, I tried to explain to them, in Spanish, the concept of denominations. When I mentioned the A.M.E. (African Methodist Episcopal) Church, my friends had, surprisingly, heard of it...or so I thought. As I was thinking about how to explain a denomination founded by recently emancipated slaves, they stopped me excitedly and said, "Oh, I've heard of them. They're crazy!" About 80% of my family is A.M.E. and slightly loco, so I thought they were just being facetious. But no. They had the A.M.E. Church confused with some type of FLDS-Jim Jones-Waco hybrid. So, I undertook the feat of explaining to them exactly what the A.M.E. Church was and became, in a few short minutes, the face of Protestantism. No pressure, though.

I think I've convinced my friends that I'm still a Christian even though I don't defer to the Vatican, go to Confession, or attend a church with a nun. At the very least, I've convinced them that the A.M.E. Church isn't some radical cult. 

When I made the conscious decision to continue to hold steadfast to my faith while here in Spain, I didn't realize that so many stereotypes about African Americans and "black" church were so pervasive here. Sometimes, I've had to roll my eyes at the comments that have been made; other times (cough A.M.E. cult), my eyes have pretty much bulged out of my head. At the very least, being a black Christian has been a conversation starter. 

And the Church said...Amen.