RACISM IN AMERICA

Jesus preached the need for conversion, for changing structures that oppressed or pushed people to the margins. Jesus required people to take responsibility for their actions and sins. The cross and Jesus' death on it was the result of his life and his challenging injustice.

Jesus did not need to be crucified, yet he was, and he rose again. We celebrate this resurrection; a resurrection that shows us that violence and suffering is not the last word. God brought and will be bringing again something new. Jesus, after he rose, fulfilled his promise to the disciples to send the Holy Spirit, the spirit of new life, of renewal.

As fires burned in D.C., Minneapolis, Boston and elsewhere, I wondered what is the Holy Spirit bringing forth? Where is the spirit moving in the evocative rage, in the images of red, orange, yellow against the night sky?

Will white Christians enter this turbulent space and by the labor of our obedience (an obedience to listen, to learn, to return to God) work with others to dismantle idolatry in all its forms?

Will we respond to the call of our teachers to seek healing from all disease that prevents us from seeing each other as members of the One Body of Christ, as equal in dignity, worth and bearing the image and likeness of God?

And in responding to the Holy Spirit and our teachers of the New Pentecost, work to build the community called for by Arabome, where all are "able to breathe with both lungs no matter the color of our skin."

All of this weighs on my spirit. I try to pray, but inner quiet eludes me. I simply sit in silence on Pentecost weekend before a lit candle praying, "Come, Holy Spirit" as tears fall. Words fail me. I ponder the futility of speaking out, yet again, trying to think of how to say what has been said, what I have said, so often before. Then it occurred to me. Amy Cooper holds the key. The event in Central Park is not the most heinous...The black man didn't die — thankfully. Compared to [other events], it has received little attention. But if you understand Amy Cooper, then all the rest, and much more, makes sense. And points the way forward.

Every day, black women and men are faced with the reality that in America, all it takes is one person to see your body and the color of your skin as a threat. These thoughts are ever-present, not only when images of black death go viral. Black people are routinely viewed by white citizens and police as suspicious, dangerous and unworthy. Once again, black Americans must confront the dangers of being in a black body while wearing masks in public spaces. Black people are suffering. How can the church show that it is listening?

While racial justice has not been at the forefront of the public agenda of the Catholic Church, many Catholics...have encouraged church leaders to meet with activists within the movement. “I think, like the civil rights movement and the black power movement, the Black Lives Matter movement is this generation’s response to racism,” Felix Cepeda says, adding that there is much the Catholic Church can learn from the black citizens leading the movement.

We are living in a unique moment in our national history: a moment when, sadly, the racial divide in our country is becoming more acute. The events of the past year concerning freedom of speech, public Confederate monuments, white supremacists, neo-Nazis and the Ku Klux Klan are particularly challenging and complex for Christians seeking to obey the law of love...we must learn from the past by studying the choices, decisions, beliefs and experiences that have brought us to this moment. As Catholics, we must open our hearts to the purifying power of the Holy Spirit and the healing grace of Christ. We Catholics sometimes have only a superficial cultural commitment to our faith. But a deep existential commitment to follow Jesus as the way, the truth and the life impels us to truly live our Catholic faith in all of the complex and difficult situations of our lives, including those that require us to oppose anyone and anything that serves to maintain the current racial divide in the United States.

In August 2014, I tweeted that I wanted to go to Ferguson, Mo., in the immediate wake of Michael Brown’s death. Within a matter of minutes, a Twitter contact alerted me to a group organizing a bus ride from Washington, D.C., to Ferguson. After a few moments of contemplation, I decided to join that group on the long journey to Missouri. Why I tweeted that desire to visit Ferguson, I will never know. But I do have an idea of where the desire came from, beyond a sense of justice for and connection to the life of Michael Brown: my own baptism.

In the wake of a rally led by white supremacists that rocked Charlottesville and engulfed President Trump in a race-related controversy, Catholic bishops in the United States announced the creation of a new task force to address racism—in both the nation and in the church.

Today, there are more African-American Catholics in Louisiana than almost anywhere else in the United States. They are here because of slavery. During the 18th century, French and Spanish colonists introduced Catholicism and race-based slavery to the Mississippi Valley. Sacramental records of the period show people of color—most of them enslaved but some of them free—being baptized, married and buried in the church. In the years following the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, the church became one of the largest slaveholding entities in the state. When Pope Gregory XVI condemned slavery in his 1839 apostolic letter “In Supremo Apostolatus,” the white clergy continued to defend slavery as it was practiced in the United States. Most white laypeople never heard of the pope’s letter, much less read it. They also agreed with the assessment of Bishop Auguste Marie Martin of Natchitoches, La., that slavery was “the manifest will of God” and the result of the so-called curse of Ham. The Vatican rejected Bishop Martin’s opinion in 1864, but who was listening?

On Oct. 10, a group of African-American students at The University of Missouri interrupted the school’s homecoming parade. Armed with megaphones and wearing shirts that read “1839 Was Built on My B(l)ack,” the protestors stood in front of president Tim Wolfe’s car and, one by one, described racism they’d each experienced at Mizzou.

Let us pray.

O Lord our God, in your mercy and kindness, no thought of ours is left unnoticed, no desire or concern ignored. You have proven that blessings abound when we fall on our knees in prayer, and so we turn to you in our hour of need. Surrounded by violence and cries for justice, we hear your voice telling us what is required...“Only to do justice and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Mi 6:8). Fill us with your mercy so that we, in turn, may be merciful to others. Strip away pride, suspicion, and racism so that we may seek peace and justice in our communities. Strengthen our hearts so that they beat only to the rhythm of your holy will. Flood our path with your light as we walk humbly toward a future filled with encounter and unity. Be with us, O Lord, in our efforts, for only by the prompting of your grace can we progress toward virtue.

We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

We pray for healing to address

The persistent sin of racism

Which rejects the full humanity

Of some of your children,

And the talents and potential You have given.

We pray for the grace to recognize

The systems that do not support

The dignity of every person,

That do not promote respect

For those who are seen as other,

Who bear the legacy of centuries

Of discrimination, fear, and violence.

We pray for graced structures

So children of color in Flint, and all children,

Have access to clean water and health care.

We pray for graced structures

So children of color in Mississippi, and all children,

Have quality education that will allow them to develop their gifts.

We pray for graced structures

So children of color in Camden, and all children,

Have homes where families can live in dignity and security.

We pray for graced structures

So children of color in Chicago, and all children,

Can grow up without fear, without the sound of gunshots.

Lord of all, we ask you to hear and answer our prayers.

Give us eyes to see how the past

Has shaped the complex present,

And to perceive how we must create

A new way forward,

With a new sense of community

That embraces and celebrates

The rich diversity of all,

That helps us live out your call to reject

The sin of racism, the stain of hate,

And to seek a compassionate solidarity

Supported by Your grace and Your love.

We ask this through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

María, amiga y madre de todos, a través de tu Hijo Dios ha encontrado un camino para unirse a todos los seres humanos, llamados a ser un solo pueblo, hermanas y hermanos entre sí.

Pedimos tu ayuda al recurrir a tu Hijo, buscando el perdón por las veces en que hemos fallado en amarnos y respetarnos.

Pedimos tu ayuda para obtener de tu Hijo la gracia que necesitamos para vencer el mal del racismo y construir una sociedad justa.

Pedimos tu ayuda para seguir a tu Hijo, para que el prejuicio y la animosidad no infecten ya nuestras mentes o corazones sino que sean reemplazados por el amor que respeta la dignidad de cada persona.

Madre de la Iglesia, el Espíritu de tu Hijo Jesús alienta nuestros corazones: Ruega por nosotros.

Amén.

Mary, friend and mother to all, through your Son, God has found a way to unite himself to every human being, called to be one people, sisters and brothers to each other.

We ask for your help in calling on your Son, seeking forgiveness for the times when we have failed to love and respect one another.

We ask for your help in obtaining from your Son the grace we need to overcome the evil of racism and to build a just society.

We ask for your help in following your Son, so that prejudice and animosity will no longer infect our minds or hearts but will be replaced with a love that respects the dignity of each person.

Mother of the Church, the Spirit of your Son Jesus warms our hearts: pray for us.

Amen.