Now, here is a practice that modern day African-Americans (or anyone else outside of a liturgical tradition) ain’t havin’.  “Hmph!  Kissing some preacher’s hand.”  Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst obstacle for a black inquirer if the priest looks like Fr. Maximus Cabey or Fr. Jerome Sanderson.  Maybe it would be easier in an Ethiopian, or (at least) a Coptic parish where the pastor has some melanin to give him some color.  But, for children of Nat Turner, Huey P Newton, and Black Pride; to kiss some white man’s hand is down right blasphemy.  On the surface, it seems to do so would be to go back to the days when “massa’s preacher would tell us niggras to be good slaves and come back if we ran away.”  I must confess, at first. I had some issues with it in the back of my mind as well.

But, let’s think…