This is the sermon I offered on June 21 in response to the shootings at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC.
Today’s text is from the gospel according to Mark. Let us attend to the reading of the word:
5 Later that day, when evening came, Jesus said to them, “Let’s cross over to the other side of the lake.” 36 They left the crowd and took him in the boat just as he was. Other boats followed along.
37 Gale-force winds arose, and waves crashed against the boat so that the boat was swamped. 38 But Jesus was in the rear of the boat, sleeping on a pillow. They woke him up and said, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re drowning?”
39 He got up and gave orders to the wind, and he said to the lake, “Silence! Be still!” The wind settled down and there was a great calm. 40 Jesus asked them, “Why are you frightened? Don’t you have faith yet?”
41 Overcome with awe, they said to each other, “Who then is this? Even the wind and the sea obey him!”
Jesus had been teaching folks all day long. He was tired – if you’re so tired you can sleep in an open boat with a gale raging, you’re tired – and he said “Let’s go to the other side.” We don’t know if he knew what was waiting for him on the other side of the lake – it happened to be a demon possessed man, according to Mark – but I think he was hoping to escape the crowds and have some peace and quiet.
Why do we change locations? We do so for a new job, or a better house, or a peaceful vacation. Why did the chicken cross the road? Probably because she thought there were better things on the other side. Isn’t that usually the case? When we move to the other side, we’re hoping that there is something good waiting for us there.
O Lord of mercy, we surely need to get to the other side.
This week something terrible happened in an historic downtown church established a few years before ours. It happened this past Wednesday night, during a bible study. That’s the same night 14 of us were in the Fellowship Hall having a bible study. Ours ended peacefully around 7:30. In Charleston, SC, 9 people were shot to death for no other reason than the color of their skin.
Based upon what we’ve been told, try to imagine that night, A dozen or so folk gathered for bible study and prayer. They all knew one another, probably very well. They laughed as they shared the easy companionship of fellow Christians, ready to delve into the word, ready to rest in prayer. They asked one another how the day had been and what their families were doing that evening. They talked about what they had for dinner and maybe they planned to go out for a piece of pie after the class was done.
It was a Wednesday night like all of the other Wednesday nights. Coffee was poured, bibles were opened. It was sister Myra Thompson’s turn to teach, something she did well. As is typical of these kinds of studies, three or four folk would most likely dominate the discussion, the others listening thoughtfully, adding an insight or asking a question from time to time.
But this Wednesday night was different. A young man came in the room. He was white. If a young black man had walked into our bible study, I would have asked him his name, offered him some of the food we had, and asked if he wanted to join us. That’s probably exactly what the good folk of Emanuel AME Church did. They were a bit wary at first, as we would have been if the tables were reversed. But he took a cup of coffee. He sat down. He was there for an hour, listening to Myra point out the finer points of scripture, listening to the discussion. They eventually relaxed in the presence of the stranger. What a nice young man. So quiet, so polite. They probably weren’t sure why a young white man strayed into their church, but what a blessing when the races come together in harmony.
O Lord of mercy, we need to get to the other side.
It has been a long time out on the stormy lake of bigotry and prejudice. How can it be that in 2015, 150 years since the end of the US civil war during which we as a country ended legal enslavement of people of any race, but particularly the people of African descent – how can it be that we are still tossing and turning on the lake of racism?
I still know people who single out an entire race or ethnicity – African Americans, Asians, Mexicans, Arabs…..you pick your own enemy…. and have declared them all, each and every one of them to be something less than human, something less than worthy of love and consideration. Sometimes this prejudice was acquired as the child of bigots; sometimes it is due to an unfortunate experience with a person or persons of a particular race or ethnicity. But I daresay that these same people have had bad experiences with people of their own race or ethnicity, and they do not condemn themselves or their families because of those experiences. But somehow when the “other” has skin of a different hue or speaks a different language it’s ok to condemn the entire group.
Yet, in the same way it is wrong to say “All men hog the remote control” or “All women are crabby at that time of the month” it is wrong to ascribe certain traits or actions to an entire body of people. Would you like it if everyone in Olathe assumed that everyone who was a member of this church was exactly like the one or two people they know here? Of course you wouldn’t.
O Lord, how can we get to the other side where we don’t generalize about people?
As heinous as this act and many others like it are, perpetrated by people of all different races and creeds (or lack thereof), many of us are content to stay where we are. We’re being tossed about by the violence and the cruelty, but we’re used to it. It is human nature to want to stay with what we know, even if it isn’t good. As the disciples were being wind burned and half drowned in the boat that day, they knew Jesus was tired, so they probably tried to battle the storm for as long as they could, incredulous that Jesus could just lay there sleeping while they were in fear for their lives. They’d been there forever it seemed; yet what could they do?
Eventually they had to wake him up. They had to say “We can’t deal with this any longer by ourselves. He’s GOT to wake up, if only to commiserate with us.” So they woke him, and demanded to know just why he was sleeping? Didn’t he care what happened?
Jesus shook his head – I can just see it – sleep matted in his eyes, wet hair plastered to his face, a pillow mark from where he had been sleeping so hard that wind and water could not wake him—and he looked at the terrified men and questioned their lack of faith. Yet how could they have faith in the middle of the storm that seemed so bad that it might wash them overboard into the turbulent lake, that it might capsize the boat, or destroy the boat altogether? In what or whom should they have faith?
But then he commanded the wind and the waves. He told them to stop. AND THEY DID! If the disciples were scared for their lives before, how scared were they now? How could they even process what was happening?
It’s time for us to ask Jesus to stand up in this boat. It’s time for each of us to turn to the Christ and ask for guidance, for wisdom, for courage and most importantly, to be able to acknowledge our brokenness and move toward our sisters and brothers whose skin is darker than ours or whose language is different from ours. Until every person of color can walk and drive wherever they want without fear of harassment or arrest or even death, until that day we’re all being tossed about by the waves of prejudice. Until we can rid ourselves of the need to demonize the “other” we are drowning. It’s time for us to recognize our baptism in Christ, to call upon the Christ within us.
When Jesus stood up in the boat and calmed the wind and the waves, he asked the disciples, “Why are you frightened? Don’t you have faith yet?” I confess that my faith is weak when it comes to the issue of racism. It is as old as time itself, this desire to keep to our own kind, this suspicion of the “other.” But if Jesus could call upon the power of God to calm the elements, cannot we call upon the power of God to uproot the fear of the other? Can’t we call upon God to give us courage to speak up when we see injustice? Surely we can.
I don’t consider myself a racist – you probably do not either. Yet we have not done much to try to eliminate racism. Instead of quietly disdaining people who make racist comments, instead of decrying acts of unspeakable violence by commiserating with one another, it’s time to stand up to the storm and speak a word of calm. Jesus didn’t say “Love your neighbor who looks like you”. He said “Love your neighbor…” whoever that neighbor might be. That means standing up within our tribe and speaking the truth in love to those who carry hatred and disdain in their hearts.
Perhaps, though, we’d rather keep bailing water out of the boat. Perhaps we’d rather just stay in the middle of the lake and hope that the storm passes before it destroys us, because we’ve been in it so long we’ve forgotten where we are going.
O Lord of truth, mercy and grace, we need to get to the other side. And we have faith that you can get us there. Amen.
