Pentecost 4 B

For a very long time, it has been a Christian tradition to think of the church as a boat. A lot of church buildings are actually designed to resemble an upside down boat. Actually, even the word for this part of the building — nave — means ‘boat.’

So, in that same thinking, through the years this gospel text came to represent the church — a story of disciples, with Jesus, travelling through all kinds of weather, travelling with a purpose, finding safety and comfort in the fact that even when great storms arise, Jesus is there in the boat to protect his followers.

So what can we say, my sisters and brothers, when the safety of that boat can be violated by an agent of hate? When nine faithful disciples can be gunned down within the very ship that Jesus promises to remain in?

I’m assuming you know by now that on Wednesday in Charleston, South Carolina, a young man, fueled by the teachings of White Supremacy entered into a church very significant to African American history, and shot to death nine folks who had gathered there to pray.

This horrible event has gripped me personally for a number of reasons.

As a pastor it terrifies me that in the midst of prayer, within the sanctity of a church…

As a Lutheran pastor, it grieves me that Mother Emanuel AME’s pastors, Clementa Pinckney and Daniel Simmons, who were victims of the shooting, were graduates of the Lutheran Southern Seminary. I have friends who were classmates with Pastor Clementa…

As a Lutheran churchgoer, it chills me that the perpetrator of the violence was on the roll of an ELCA congregation in Columbia, South Carolina.

But more importantly, and even more personally, I am tied to this event by way of the racially motivated hate that caused it. I cannot deny a connection to this disaster because I share the privilege afforded to me by the color of my skin that allows this kind of violence to continue in my country.

Up until Wednesday evening, I had a very different direction planned for this Sunday’s sermon. Since then, I’ve tried to not be too quick to speak about the meaning of what happened on Wednesday night. I’ve been listening (online, mostly) to the voices of people of color to help me understand the context of the situation, and to see things that may have been invisible to me.

I have heard some of those voices cry out with the words of scripture that we don’t read all that often in Lutheran churches…from the book of Habakkuk. I’ll bet at least some of you didn’t know there was a book of Habakkuk.

In the first chapter, the prophet cries:

“O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you “Violence!” and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrong-doing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous— therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” (Habakkuk 1.2–4 NRSV)

The wicked surround the righteous like a storm surrounds a boat.

Here’s where this gets uncomfortable: It is true that the wicked surround us. And the wicked overwhelmed the righteous praying within Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. But the wicked is not just a person. It is not just the young white terrorist that perpetrated this particular horrific crime. We cannot do justice to the meaning of either of these texts until we come to terms with the fact that the wicked — the evil — is a part of each of us. Not just out there, threatening to spill over the sides of the boat, but in our hearts.

The storm surrounding us is different in this way from the one that produced terror in the hearts of the disciples in the boat with Jesus. This storm is not a quick and powerful windstorm caused by the unusual geography of the sea of Galilee. This is a storm of human origin. The fear caused by this storm is not just incidental or accidental: it is intentional. It is perpetrated.

It’s important to name the sin of racism and white supremacy. And to name the fact that these things aren’t just the delusions of a few lone wackos out there. These things are built into our culture and laws and history. If you share the color of my skin you have benefited from white supremacy, even if you have never told a racist joke, never discriminated against someone based on the color of their skin, never harbored an evil thought toward someone because of ‘that’ culture.

By coincidence, last week on the same evening of this attack, youth of this congregation met to prepare for a trip to Detroit this summer and our task on was to investigate the evil effects of racism in Detroit. Just hours before hearing the news out of Charleston, I was so proud of the way that these young people investigated news reports and documentary material and then responded in thoughtful ways about the way that unfair housing practices and laws led to problems that still divide Detroit by race.

That’s right, the same group of kids that we accuse of playing with their phones too much or not taking things seriously had an extended and considerate discussion about a Christian response to racism. They did.

In that study and conversation, that they were confronted with a truth that is really painful and uncomfortable to most Lutherans, a denomination that is about 98% White: that no matter how polite we are, we are all complicit in the sin of racism, and we have a calling to help dismantle it.

The good news is, we are equipped to do just that.

We belong to a God that not just calms the water around us, but remains with us even as the storm overcomes the boat. We have a God that knows what it is for evil to enter in, and for death to find its way even into the most sacred places.

We have a God who shows no partiality anyone, but loves each human being.

We have a God that calms our fear with forgiveness — not so that we can feel comfortable — but so that we can be free to acknowledge our mistakes, and commit to correcting them, confident in God’s Grace.

This was a dark week for many, my friends. But we are in this boat together. God has called us out across the waters in faith. Disciples of Christ will face many storms. The sin of racism is a big storm. This will not be a comfortable journey.

But then again, Jesus doesn’t call disciples into easy journeys. Together, the church is called out into the rough waters. We have a calling; a purpose; we have a Gospel of radical love that needs to be heard in every land, every household. Jesus comes with us to share this message, but the going can get rough.

One more saying about boats. Jesus didn’t say it, but it’s still true; perhaps you’ve heard it:

A boat in a harbour is safe, but that is not what a boat is built for.

Let’s show the world what this boat is built for.