Here's what I preached this morning at Trinity Lutheran in Connellsville, PA. We need to do more - I need to do more - but this is a start. To my surprise, many, many folks thanked me for this sermon, and I am grateful for their willingness to hear it.
...
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord
Jesus Christ. Amen.
We need to
have a difficult conversation this morning. We need to talk about Emanuel
African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. We need to
talk about Clementa, Tywanza, Cynthia, Sharonda, Depayne, Susie, Ethel, Daniel,
and Myra. We need to talk about Dylann. But most of all, we need to talk about
ourselves. We need to talk about our own racism and the storm that is raging
around us in this country.
In case you didn’t hear the news, on Wednesday evening,
about a dozen members and friends of Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South
Carolina gathered for Bible Study. A young white man joined them, and was welcomed
in. Then, after sitting with the group for an hour, he pulled out a gun and
killed nine people. He let one woman live specifically so that she could tell
others the reason this happened was because of the color of their skin.
The shooter’s family are members of an ELCA congregation.
Two of the people who were killed were graduates of the Lutheran Theological
Southern Seminary in Columbia, South Carolina. We cannot pretend that this has
nothing to do with us. While the shooter may not have learned white supremacy at
church, he also did not learn that racism is sin. He did not learn how to love people
who are different. This is not an easy sermon to preach, but I cannot stand
here and ignore what has taken place. This is not enough, but it is a start.
The disciples were familiar with the sea. As fishermen, they
knew its smells and rhythms, its cadence and sounds. When we pick up with our
Gospel reading from Mark this morning, the disciples have already been rocked
by the gentle waves all day. In the morning, there had been so many people who
gathered to hear Jesus preach and teach that Jesus and the disciples got into
their boats and pushed away from shore. Sitting in the boat, Jesus’ voice was
carried over the glassy water to the crowds sitting on the rocky banks and the
grassy hillside. At the end of the day, after teaching in parables, after
sitting out in the sun, Jesus suggested that they cross the lake, and so they
did.
They had been rocked by gentle waves all day, but suddenly
things changed. A great windstorm arose – the wind howled; the waves got bigger
and bigger, driving the foamy seas over the edge of the small boat. The wooden
boards groaned against the onslaught. The waves were crashing over the side
faster than the disciples could bail it out, and capsizing and drowning became
more and more of a possibility. It is not difficult for us to imagine the
disciples feeling afraid and anxious, unsure of the outcome of this storm and
fearful for their very lives.
 |
| Photo by Torsten Dederichs on Unsplash |
As a country, we have been floating on the seas of racism
for a very long time. As white folks, we’ve been in the boat for so long that
we hardly notice the ripples and waves. Slavery was a long time ago, we say.
Segregation is over, we say. He’s not racist, he was just raised in a different
time. Everyone has to be so politically correct these days, we say. It was just
a joke, we say. I’m not racist, we say, I have a black friend! All lives
matter, we say. Why should black lives be singled out? There aren’t black folks
here because they choose to go to their own church, and we choose to go to ours
– it’s just human nature, we say.
Yes, the waves have always been rippling, but now a great
windstorm has arisen and we are forced to pay attention, forced to come face to
face with the evil and the ugliness that have been lapping at our boat for a
long time. Ferguson, Baltimore, Charleston. Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir
Rice, Tanisha Anderson. The storm can no longer be ignored. Our racism, our
willful ignorance must be addressed.
To be white in this country is to have the luxury of
ignoring the increasingly stronger wind and waves. It is the luxury of not
worrying about walking around at night in a hoodie, of not being followed with
suspicion at the store, of not being afraid that being pulled over by the
police will result in much more than a ticket and a small fine. It is an
advantage in this country to have white skin, and part of that advantage and
privilege is that we don’t even realize that this is the case.
The storm is here. We might think we’re sheltered. We might
think that something like this could never happen in Connellsville, that this
just isn’t a very diverse place. We are wrong. The storm is here, and we are
drowning in our own sin and complacency.
We are shaken awake by the cries of our black brothers and
sisters; roused, finally, by their haunting question – “White folk, do you not
care that we are perishing?”
We have not cared. We have not noticed. No more.
We must care. We must wake up, be roused to action, repent
of our own sin of racism, however subtle. We must ask for forgiveness for our
willingness to believe lies – that black people are “them” and white people are
“us”. That black people somehow brought this upon themselves, that we ought to
look at black-on-black crime, that black people are just pre-disposed to
violent behavior. That these people who are different from us are less.
Enough of these lies! No more of this! Jesus weeps for our
divisions, weeps for the broken bodies of black folk. Jesus cries out to the
storm of racism “PEACE. BE STILL.”
God cares deeply about our black brothers and sisters who
cry out for justice, who are crushed by systems of oppression, who have not had
the luxury of ignoring this storm. In the midst of the winds that howl and the
waves that threaten, Jesus is present. Jesus huddles in a church in Charleston
as black bodies are ripped apart by bullets. Jesus is found alongside the weak
and vulnerable, found in those places of crucifixion, where sin and evil seem
to have the upper hand, where death reigns.
PEACE. BE STILL. We can no longer ignore the storm. We can
no longer pretend that this has nothing to with us. We need to do better.
There is good news for us this morning. Jesus is with us,
too, as we struggle, as we repent, as we seek to care for and love our
neighbors, especially our brothers and sisters who are people of color. It will
take work, but we are not alone. It will be uncomfortable, but God will guide
us.
Whenever we gather at the communion rail, we gather with all
the saints of all times and places. As we receive Christ’s body and blood this
morning, we are reminded that we kneel shoulder to shoulder with Clementa,
Tywanza, Cynthia, Sharonda, Depayne, Susie, Ethel, Daniel, and Myra. As we hear
that this meal is for the forgiveness of sins, we are reminded of the sin we
have ignored for too long. Awaken us, Lord. Calm this storm. Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment