12^th Sunday of O.T. (B); 6-20-21

Jb 38:1,8-11.  Ps 107.  2 Cor 5:14-17.   Mk 4:35-41

Deacon Jim McFadden

            On the evening of June 17, 2015 Dylann Roof joined a Bible study meeting at Mother Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina and murdered nine African Americans with a Glock 41.45 caliber handgun.  His vile deed was motivated by the belief that white people are superior to nonwhites.  A few days later a solitary man who is black slowly walked through his neighborhood as if in a funeral procession.  His arms were outstretched from his side; his body took on the form of a Cross.

            The Cross is a symbol of our Christian faith.  Every year on Good Friday we venerate the Cross; in many countries around the world Christians carry a cross on their backs to remind themselves and others what Jesus endured for our salvation.  The person in the neighborhood was not carrying a physical Cross; his body was a Cross.  He was a walking reminder of the crucifixion that our black brothers and sisters have endured since the inception of slavery in our country four centuries ago.  The man was reminding us of the legacy of white supremacist terror that blacks endure in the United States.  In 1922 Countee Cullen wrote a poem about lynching titled, “Christ Recrucified,’ in which he said that “The South is crucifying Jesus again.”  It’s still happening.  In 1979 the United States Catholic Bishops spoke directly to the ongoing presence of racism:

“Racism is not merely one sin among many; it is a radical evil that divides the human family and denies the new creation of a redeemed world” (Brothers and Sisters to Us, 1979).

            Racial animosity and division are not the only storms engulfing us. We are also threatened by the repercussions of the pandemic, the existential threat of climate change, and the specter of cyber-attacks. It all seems so overwhelming.

Just as terror seized the apostles as the turbulent waters threatened to swallow them whole, so we can feel overpowered and afraid. Our cry becomes the cries of the apostles which may have sounded like a wail, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mk 4:38).

            What is Jesus’s response, “Why are you terrified?  Do you not yet have faith?” We only have to look at Jesus’s behavior during the storm to see how one of faith would behave.  First of all, Jesus sleeps during the storm. Surely, he felt being tossed about, but he sleeps.  He knows who he is and is secure in God’s love.  As God’s beloved Son, he is grounded in love, not fear.  It is from that conviction he can confront whatever storm arises. The awakened Jesus shows his disciples the power of a steady mind open to God.  He also reveals that he has become man precisely to mediate God’s power into the storms of our lives.

            Not only does Jesus model how to behave in specific crises, he also gave us very clear guidelines, especially in the Sermon on the Mount.  When we internalize and live those teachings, we become  conformed to the Risen Christ and can be examples of how to treat one another.  By operating out of God’s love, we participate in his self-giving generosity and relate to others in a truly genuine way.  Nothing, nothing is greater than the love God has for all of us. 

            I return to the man who slowly walked down the street with his arms outstretched.  How brave of him to be “crucified” to reveal how nonwhites are treated.  How brave will we be to walk down the street to show how the Risen Christ treats all persons?  How brave will we be to be the face of God to whomever we meet? We are radically dependent upon God’s grace to bring us to solidarity and fraternal love.  Grounded in Him, we live the truth that we are all brothers and sisters because we have the same Father whom we call ‘Abba.’