c. 1997 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is an Episcopal priest in Winston-Salem, N.C., an author and former Wall Street Journal reporter. E-mail him at journey(at)interpath.com.)

WINSTON-SALEM, N.C. _ Mineral Springs Baptist Church sits on a slight rise. Its red-brick, soaring columns and vast parking lot are an icon of religion in America.

Inside, on a Sunday evening, the Salem Community Orchestra warms up for a Christmas concert. We wave to our friend, a flutist, and settle into a pew.

On stage, nervous children find their places. They are the Community Outreach Choir, sponsored by the Winston-Salem Housing Authority.

White orchestra and black choir proceed tidily through the musical chestnuts that have come to define Christmas in America.”O Come, All Ye Faithful”merges into”Jingle Bells.”It is a peaceful way to end a busy day; mall music without the shoppers.

Then it all changes.

The orchestra’s conductor announces a piece composed by the Outreach Choir’s director. He says he was so moved by the piece he added an orchestral accompaniment.

A black teen-ager slips behind the drums and starts a pounding rhythm. Demetrius Jeter, the high school girl who conducts the singers, throws her arms wide and begins to clap. An electric keyboard kicks in. The children clap and sway, and then in crisp, intricate syncopation begin to sing.

In the orchestra section, a reed player starts to clap. Smiling clarinetists pick up the beat. Soon, instruments soar along with children’s voices. No more”chestnuts roasting on an open fire.”This music has real fire. The birth of the Messiah suddenly seems more than a pleasing cultural backdrop.

When the merged sounds of classical and rock have ceased, the room explodes. Orchestra musicians applaud the singers. Black and white adults leap to their feet and hug each other. Community Outreach Choir members bow. Demetrius Jeter bounces on the podium.

Off to the side, I see the black drummer relinquish his seat to the orchestra’s regular percussionist. White musician congratulates black musician.

Three thousand miles away, a black athlete prepares to play the”race card.”Fired from his $30 million job bouncing a ball _ more money than the entire Community Outreach Choir will earn in a lifetime _ Latrell Sprewell consults the lawyer who got O.J. Simpson off, huddles with his agent, and readies a counterattack against the Golden State Warriors. The best defense for attacking the coach, it seems, will be a race-based offense.

In the PR-conscious world of professional sports, where white owners and white agents throw absurd sums of money at black athletes and then feast on their sweat, the”race card”might work. They won’t even notice that protecting their salaries has heightened racial tension.

Like all children, singers in the Community Outreach Choir look to the adult world for models. What will they see? Their parents being embraced by white parents because the music has forged oneness? Or an athlete who will use any tool to escape the consequences of his behavior? Will the black drummer see the respect his playing has earned in the eyes of a fellow musician? Or will he bury his future on a basketball court, hoping to be the one-in-a-million who snags the $30 million deal?

What about Demetrius Jeter? As a teen, she is already a marvelous conductor. Her eyes command respect. Her hands draw musical excellence out of children. With her arms shooting to the sky, she tells everyone present,”This matters!”What about her? After the concert, she beams and tells me,”I want to go to school and become a conductor!”What will happen to that dream?

Racial harmony isn’t about black athletes earning millions. It is about our finding common ground and nurturing each other’s dreams.

Tonight’s concert happened because the Housing Authority had a vision larger than one more basketball league. It happened because Mineral Springs’ pastor, Cecil Cave, has made racial reconciliation the primary thrust of his ministry. And because his congregation has chosen to embrace racial diversity.

Classical musicians had to accept another form of music with respect and joy. Black musicians had to do the same. We all had to hear the music and not get caught in seeing only the racial differences.

After the concert, two drummers stood together and talked music.

That is the”race card”this nation ought to be playing.

MJP END EHRICH