Ahmad Williams

Ahmad Williams is a parishioner at Ss. Peter and Paul Orthodox Church in Syracuse, N.Y.

Would you say a little bit about yourself?

I was born and raised in New Jersey. I was brought up Muslim, but it was more Black nationalism than traditional Islam. 1 I was introduced to Christianity through my wife. Part of my search for Orthodoxy was finding a Christian tradition that would work well for both of us, because we have different backgrounds. She grew up in Black non-denominational churches. I was chrismated on March 1 of this year.

I studied at Trinity Lutheran Seminary in Columbus, Ohio, and I’ve served as an Army chaplain for 19 years now.

1. The Nation of Islam, a religious movement born in Detroit in 1930, shares some of the doctrines of traditional Sunni Islam but diverges on other points. Its stated goals are to improve the spiritual, mental, social, and economic condition of African Americans, and it advocates separation of the races. Its most famous exponent, Malcolm X, left the group for Sunni Islam shortly before his assassination in 1964.

Do you still live in New Jersey?

No. We moved to Fort Drum in New York in March, just before the pandemic hit. Before that, I was stationed at Fort Hood in Texas as a chaplain.

How did you find out about the Orthodox Church? What was it like becoming Orthodox, being Black and a former Muslim?

I was serving in the Middle East as a chaplain at the time, but church felt like just doing my Sunday duty. It was disconnected from the rest of my life. It felt like everyone could just go away after the service and live however they wanted. My faith felt a little empty, so I started looking at other religious traditions. A lot of things I encountered seemed like fads. In my search, I ran into Orthodoxy.

At first, I wondered if there even were any Orthodox churches in America. That sounds silly now, but I really didn’t know. Then I wondered if there were any African Americans already in the Orthodox Church. I thought that if I could find other Black people in the Orthodox Church, then I would go for it and seriously look into Orthodoxy.

When I was deployed to Jordan, I ran into some Orthodox Christians there and attended Orthodox churches. I noticed that many of the saints in the icons were of a darker complexion. I had never seen that before. When I started learning more about Orthodox history, I learned how ethnically diverse it was, and I found out it wasn’t just for white people but had strong ties with North Africa. Many Orthodox Christians looked more like me.

Given that there are so few African Americans in the Orthodox Church, did you feel like an outsider at first?

Yes, but part of that was because I had to overcome some attitudes and apprehensions in my own mind. I decided I would suck it up and endure the uncomfortable. I looked at photos online to see if I saw anyone like me when deciding whether I would attend a particular parish. I pretty much knew even before I went to an Orthodox church for the first time that I would be the only Black person there. But I am used to this. There are not a lot of Black soldiers and there are even fewer Black chaplains.

I started attending Orthodox churches by myself, to see how they treated me, before I brought my family. Before I ever attended Liturgy, I attended a class for catechumens. That helped calm my anxieties before I went to a service. I was advised to go to a Vespers before trying a Divine Liturgy. I can remember walking into the service; a lot of people stared at me. But I knew that if I kept coming it would subside. After my first Liturgy, I was welcomed at coffee hour. Some people asked me if I was Coptic or Ethiopian.

Is there anything about being Black which makes it difficult to convert?

Black churches have always had a special place for music. That was probably the hardest thing I had to give up in becoming Orthodox—the music of the Black church. I decided I didn’t care what the music sounded like; I wanted authentic worship more.

The difference in music can be a real culture shock. And there can be very strong feelings about abandoning one’s own identity, because Black gospel music is so tied up with Black identity and history. But I was tired of feeling like I was supposed to feel a certain way in worship. I had learned all the right things I had to do to look enthusiastic about my faith.

However, I did listen to a podcast on Ancient Faith Radio where there was a guy who had put Orthodox hymns to African American gospel music. 2 I would like to see more of that.

One of the things about the Orthodox Church that made it a little bit easier to convert was that it had no ties to American slavery or the “White Christ” phenomenon.

2. The reference is to Shawn Wallace, a musician and associate professor of jazz studies at Ohio State University, who has composed a setting of the Orthodox Vespers service in the style of Black gospel music. He was interviewed in June on Rev. Thomas Soroka’s podcast “Ancient Faith Today Live”. A performance of the composition is available for streaming at howsweetthesound.net.

What do your friends and family think about you being Orthodox?

“What? You’re becoming Catholic?” I heard that a lot. Orthodoxy was something they had never heard of. They were mostly confused by it. I found that it is common for those who critique the Orthodox Church not to know much about Orthodoxy or having ever stepped into an Orthodox Church.

What do other Americans often not understand about Black culture that you wish they did?

I think a lot of people who are not Black think that the stories of violence and discrimination against Black people are exaggerated. But they aren’t.

I have to constantly ask myself questions like, “Am I looking too much like the stereotypical thug that the media portrays? Should I wear a hoodie today, or will that get me in trouble? Should I go out by myself or with my family? If I go out with my family, I will look less threatening.” I don’t think many people who are not Black realize what goes through the minds of Black people on a daily basis.

I also wish that people knew that Black America is not monolithic. We’re not all rappers. We’re not all basketball players. And we don’t all like watermelon. We’re not all Democrats.

I remember growing up thinking that all white people had lots of money because so many of my white friends had so much more money than my family. That is why some Black men marry white women—because it is seen as a way to “marry up.” Not that this is the case for all interracial marriages, but some men have told me personally they consider it “safer,” or it will give their kids better chances in life, because their skin complexion won’t be as threatening.

Have you experienced racism firsthand? Can you share a particular experience?

Yes. This goes back to a high-school chemistry class. One day when we had some free time, a classmate was reading the newspaper and I was reading over his shoulder. He said, “This isn’t the sports section, so you wouldn’t be interested.”

Another time in high school, I was talking with my guidance counselor, a Southern lady, about my future. I told her I was thinking about going to Ohio State. I was a pretty good athlete, and Ohio State had already accepted me. She said, “Why don’t you think instead about going to a community college? That would be better for someone like you.” She kept directing me to lower my expectations.

In college, a bunch of students on campus were saying, “All the Black people are going to go around and kill all the white people.” It had to do with some of the Black fraternities organizing some event about racism or Black culture. I had a fellow student run up to me and call me a n—er and then run away. The worst part was no one stood up for me. That then became my measuring stick to learn who my true friends were.

I was in ROTC in college, and once we were all putting on camo paint. Someone said, “Amhad doesn’t have to worry about putting on camo, because he is already camouflaged.” The guy didn’t realize he was being offensive, but a lot of other guys in my troop were waiting for me to yell at him or something. But I didn’t. I’m used to stuff like that happening to me. I mean, what was I going to do? Hit him? That would have been the end of my career, and I was the only cadet of color in the entire battalion.

How is being African American different from, say, being a recent immigrant from Africa, or having an Afro-Latin background?

You feel cut off from a heritage and an old-world homeland. We were robbed of that during slavery. You don’t know for sure where you came from the way, say, a Nigerian does. You have that void. My sister was in a Caribbean dance group, and no one could tell she wasn’t Caribbean. When people asked her where in the Caribbean she was from and she said that she was just Black, it was met with a response suggesting she was kind of boring—as if she were a Black person who wasn’t from anywhere. It’s like you don’t have ancestors. You don’t have a sense of where you are from. You feel cut off, like you are missing something everyone else has.

How have the recent protests and videos of police violence affected you personally?

It was something I knew was bound to happen. In America, we’re good at putting band-aids on things without ever addressing the root of the problem. It unleashed all this pent-up trauma. Many African Americans struggle with a sort of PTSD from terrible encounters with the justice system. Every Black man, when he is a boy, must have that special talk—and I’m not talking about the birds and bees. Parents must have a talk with their boys on how not to get shot: don’t wear a hoodie; don’t put your hands in your pockets; don’t question or argue with the authorities. I was trained to say, “yes, sir” and “no, sir.”

Interview by Rev.Matthew Brown

George Floyd (2020)

artist: Celos; location: Los Angeles, California