Holy storms and scared Christians
Sermon on Mark 4:35-41
It was a beautiful day at sea in May 1865. In so many ways. The Union’s army had won the Civil War in Virginia. Black, free soldiers had played an important role in that victory. 2 years ago President Lincoln had signed the Emancipation Proclamation, pronouncing freedom for all enslaved people in states that had seceded from the Union. A great order that took years to be known in all of the states.
Lincoln’s executive order was meaningless to the rebellious states unless and until the Union army arrived to enforce it. Plus, most Texans didn't yet consider themselves a part of the U.S. Texas didn't regain full congressional representation and ratify the 13th Amendment until 1870. As such, in 1865, the Lone Star State did not recognize the authority of Lincoln or the U.S. Constitution.
And then, it was May 1865 and about 10.000 Black men in Union uniforms traveled by boat towards the Texan-Mexican border to secure the border from Napoleon’s army and prevent resurgent Confederate activity.
Suddenly, a storm broke loose, turning the sea into a whirlpool, throwing the boat from one side to the other. If you have been sailing on the Bay during high winds, you know what I am talking about. Within minutes you cling on for dear life and just hope not to fall into the waves. All, while seeing the City’s shore and the Bay Bridge. So close to home and safety and yet so at the mercy of the captain’s abilities.
Back in 1865, the men must have feared for their lives, praying for help. After the huge victory, they asked God: WHY? Why let us die at sea now? Where are you? Don’t you care?
The transport ships were forced to anchor in Galveston Bay to gather supplies. Black men forced to get help in Texas. The place slave owners from Mississippi, Louisiana, and other points east had been migrating to since New Orleans had been captured in 1862 in order to escape the Union Army’s reach. The slave owners knew that the winds had changed. To them it felt like a storm robbing them of their livelihoods, their most valuable belonging, Black enslaved people. I am sure they prayed to God for help. Not realizing that God was shouting to them: “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” Amidst their fear to lose their privileges they couldn’t hear God though. They didn’t see God walking with the freed. And so, they missed God’s presence in the storm.
It was June 18th. A regular day, just like June 19th. The more than 1.000 enslaved people working in Galveston’s ports, houses, hotels, cotton fields, and barber and smithing shops couldn’t believe their eyes. It must be a Fata Morgana, a dream produced by the heat of the day and the despair of their tired bones. What a view: Thousands of Black men in blue uniforms, as far as the eye could see. Their liberators had come. And they looked like them, just free and proud. Also, a little seasick.
Union General Gordon Granger read Order No.3, finally announcing the news of the emancipation: “The people of Texas are informed that… all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves.”
As Jayne Marie Smith writes: “It was the beautiful presence of authoritative Black bodies that made these words real. These Black soldiers, like Christ, gave flesh to the emancipating spoken words. They embodied the chorus of the Negro spiritual “Oh Freedom,” which rang: “And before I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave, and go home to my Lord, and be free.”
Before them marched the cost of their freedom, the death of the sin that bound them, and the new life being offered to them. Their freedom didn’t just come from an order of a white man; freedom came enforced by faces that looked like them, a living picture of freedom that spoke 10,000 words.”
Juneteenth was born.
Liberation embodied. That’s how it was in 1865. Liberation coming through someone who looks like the ones needing liberation. That’s how it was with Jesus. Sitting in the storm with their liberator. “Do you not care that we are perishing?” the frightened friends asked sleepy Jesus. Who is exhausted from days of preaching to the crowds, resting peacefully in the care of his friends. Fully trusting them with the boat and the storm. They can handle this, they are fishermen after all. It’s a storm and it will pass. And Jesus will be present throughout the entire time. Literally, bodily present. Yet, the friends can’t see him, can’t feel his presence in their fear.
There were other boats with him. More men afraid for their lives. Without a Savior riding along whom they could wake up. Jesus saved them, too. To them, it must have looked like a miracle coming out of nowhere. They might have prayed to their Gods, they might have attributed it to their God. If they did, Jesus didn’t mind. At least he didn’t address it or correct them. He just embodied peace. First, by sleeping. Then, by acting. Last, by wondering aloud why people were so scared and therefore encouraging them to stop. Once and for all.
Jesus asks: “Why are you afraid?” Not as an accusation. But as an invitation to take stock, to reflect, to learn, to grow. Why are we afraid as Christians? What damaging lessons have we learned about the relationship between chaos and care that we need to jettison? Are we more interested in God being with us, or doing things for us?
Back to the first Juneteenth and the declaration read on that day. The first part was beautiful. Peaceful, faithful. All about freedom and equality of human rights. It could have been the end of institutional racism. Had there not been the second part of the text, born out of great fear:
“The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. … They will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.”
Juneteenth was born out of a declaration of freedom paired with open racism clothed in concerns over law, order, and manners. How impertinent to tell just freed people to remain quietly and just take some money from their former masters for their hard labor. How impudent to call that freedom and equality. And, how absolutely outrageous to talk about idleness in the face of people whose entire lives had been the worst kind of physical labor for generations. The racist stereotypes about Black bodies are all in here, disguised as an amendment to liberation. But liberation doesn’t need amendments. Or have you still no faith?
Juneteenth was born. And the storm was just about to start. The storm of white fears to lose wealth, to be outnumbered. The storm of fear to really have to face our history and what we have done and keep doing to our Black and Brown siblings. And meanwhile, Jesus is sitting in the storm with us, waiting for us to take control of the boat and stir it out into the calm, open sea. Unfortunately, we keep losing sight of Jesus embodying liberation. We keep debating what to do to keep the status quo not realizing that that feeds the storm we are trying to survive. Not realizing that we embody the storm, that we are the ones who need to hear: “Peace! Be still!” Listen, learn, rebuke, repair. And hope for reconciliation.
Paul writes: “See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute.” (2 Corinthians 6:1-13)
Yes, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! Now. We can’t wait anymore for a better time. For better people. For more courage or faith or love. The time is now. So, why are we still afraid of the storms? Why do we still look for Jesus in the calm and quiet when he is right there sitting in the storm, making it a holy storm. Telling us: Peace! Be still! Fear not! Find Jesus in the storm, sit with people in the storm, Jesus is already there! Amen.
