c. 2005 Religion News Service

MARYVILLE, Tenn. _ This charming county seat south of Knoxville seems an unlikely venue for racial unrest, “white power” slogans and uproar over the Confederate flag.

But then so does the city where I live, Durham, N.C., a diverse university town with a long tradition of liberalism, now embroiled in racial conflict, cross burnings and angry threats at public meetings. So, until it happens, do many communities where racial unrest among whites, blacks and Hispanics suddenly erupts into brawls, protests, shootings and cross burnings.

Newcomers wonder what seething hostilities they have wandered into. Old-timers wonder why racial tension won’t go away. Meanwhile, white supremacists roam from conflict to conflict painting slogans and seeking recruits, and targets of anger say to all who will listen, “This isn’t ancient history. This is today.”

Maryville’s racial unrest is somewhat ironic. Founded in 1785 by a Revolutionary War veteran and named after the territorial governor’s wife, Maryville prospered as a college town (Maryville College, founded in 1819 by Presbyterians) and county seat.

As in other communities in the Great Smoky Mountains spanning Tennessee and North Carolina, Blount County’s fiercely independent farmers had little interest in the Civil War. They refused to secede and join the Confederacy. Maryville was overrun by both sides and ended the war in ruins. Sympathetic Quakers helped them to rebuild.

Despite shunning the Confederate cause, Maryville named its high school teams the “Red Rebels,” and when its powerhouse football squads ran onto the field, they were greeted by a sea of Confederate flags. This summer, in a bid to ease racial tensions, the school board banned the Confederate Battle Flag from Maryville High School sporting events. In no time, a 25,000-resident city recently voted one of America’s finest places to live found itself not just dedicating a new hospital wing and other civic enhancements, but arguing about race and Southern tradition.

A pivotal moment came when Carl Stewart, a MHS standout and current player for Auburn University, wrote how horrible it was for him, as an African-American, to enter the stadium through a corridor of flags deemed harmless tradition by some but a symbol of white oppression by others.

A summer of unrest has forced Maryville’s citizens to look at who they were. Many were embarrassed by newspaper headlines. When a nighttime attack left a Mexican store defaced by white power slogans, white civic leaders declared solidarity with the Mexican owner.

Maryville isn’t alone in these sudden and, to many, perplexing eruptions. My city has been stunned by a year of shouting matches and arrests at school board meetings, angry letters employing incendiary language, cross burnings and hardening lines of racial division. From California’s San Bernardino Valley to New York City, racial violence seems to be escalating.

The message I hear from African-American leaders in Durham is, “Why are you surprised?” Laws may have changed, schools may have integrated, employment and residential patterns may reflect official commitment to diversity and equal access, but racial hostility continues. Less overt, perhaps, but no less a factor in daily life.

I encourage faith communities to learn from St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, in Maryville. When violence and dispute erupted this summer, leaders of this majority-white church looked across the street at a black AME Zion church and said, “Let’s talk.” Working in small groups, where candor and intimacy could occur, members of the two churches talked openly about race in Maryville. A white leader says it was staggering to learn what blacks still endure.

While angry citizens argue past each other in large settings, church members are listening. I realize listening isn’t a new idea, but until we understand what the other endures and values, we can’t move forward in resolving America’s most virulent social ill.

MO/PH END RNS

(Tom Ehrich is a writer, consultant and leader of workshops. His book, “Just Wondering, Jesus: 100 Questions People Want to Ask,” was published by Morehouse Publishing. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. His Web site is http://www.onajourney.org.)