Pray My Name—Racism and God

unity, race, god's children, evangelism
Racism and Who?

To place racism and God in the same sentence is not a misnomer. Many unsettling events have occurred in the USA during 2020 thus far. Covid19, unnecessary deaths due to continued battles between the police and POC (people of color), and riots with looting, unsettling neighborhoods such as mine. These, along with peaceful protests, have stirred already strong feelings on all sides, many buried in shallow graves in the first place. We thought we had achieved peace long ago with the Civil Rights movement but disharmony has arisen with the power of a horrific resurrection.

God did not cause these events. However, He has called us to respond to them, particularly as Christians and Catholics. Ignoring them is to our peril. My writing today is from that perspective. I would add that it takes nothing from the other fine articles here on Catholic Stand. My personal stake in the topic requires me to speak, though, and may my words here supply some measure of truth and understanding on a topic that too many of us have insulated ourselves from.

Racism Defined

I live less than two miles from where four Minneapolis police officers brutally killed George Floyd. The effect on my city of Minneapolis, MN has been ferocious, with hundreds of businesses either damaged or destroyed in the aftermath, both here and in our sister city of St. Paul, and, more than that, the pain people feel triggered a movement that has crossed our nation and beyond. Even yet, it is difficult to leave my small apartment without seeing graffiti, walking to my parked car which often requires passing stores where at least minor damage has occurred and seen daily pain in the eyes of people who simply want to live.

Some people focus here, and it is a valid concern. An even more urgent matter, though, is the root of such unrest. People who are white, such as me, tend to blame others for it, primarily POC. Some lock horns in semantics, and spend most of their time pointing out that they are not personally racist, or that all people can be, not just them or those who look like them. I believe what is confusing the issue is that racism and racial prejudice are not indistinguishable. Racism refers to a majority race or culture subjugating others within a society, while racial prejudice is based primarily on personal feelings about those of other racial or ethnic backgrounds. In short, they are related but not identical.

We should not, then, find ourselves insulted or threatened if people who have been historically oppressed use the term “institutional racism.” It is okay to prefer a different term, and less confusing, frankly. Still, denying its existence does neither history nor individuals living through it today any service. There are obvious examples, such as slavery, the slaughter of indigenous people authorized at times by Presidents of the United States, the infamous Jim Crow laws, forced segregation for decades after the Civil War, and racial profiling. I know many POC, and to a person, each has said that they have felt at least some of the above effects from a society built upon their backs. It is hard to discount such universal oppression of entire groups of people, who are our universal siblings, and in the exact same image of God as we. Should we wonder why many facing monuments to those who killed their ancestors might wish them forcibly removed? I am not suggesting that looting and vandalism help. They do not. But understanding the rage and pain behind such actions would serve us all well.

Racism and Response

One of the mantras we hear often these days is to “speak my name,” about those killed or murdered by systematic racism. Bluntly, it is an astute idea. We have a tool, though, at our disposal as Catholic Christians that can take us even beyond this. One of George Floyd’s last words was simply “mama.” It is not as uncommon as we might think to call upon the woman who brought us into this world, the one who nurtured us at her bosom, and who would be most likely to come to our rescue against everyone from the boogeyman to the neighborhood bully. Over 40 years ago, a friend of mine in college had a brother burned to death in a fire. His last word, too, was “mama.” What, then, is that tool?

I am not here to canonize Mr. Floyd. I do know, however, that we ask for a peaceful death whenever we pray the Rosary. “Pray for us sinners, now and at the moment of our death.” Who do we ask? Mary of Nazareth, the Blessed Mother of God the Son. We ask for this 54 times each time we recite it, counting the Hail, Holy Queen prayer at the end. We pray, as well, the Fatima prayer, at least five times, which includes the words “lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of Your Mercy.” I would be hard-pressed to find a person needing more mercy than one who was publicly dying, with 8 minutes and 46 seconds of breath cut off, until he moved no more. Do we believe our Rosaries are efficacious, even those of us who try to pray them daily? Do we not think it is possible that not only his mother but the Blessed Mother of Jesus and all of us, might have heard that prayer and been sent by Our Lord Jesus Christ to comfort him in his hour of greatest need? I think so.

Pray My Name

If you prayed the rosary that day, you were praying for George Floyd, know it or not. The power of praying for someone by name, though, gives us laser focus on the person’s need. Do you daily pray for an end to racism, and when possible, put legs to those prayers by looking for ways to minister to our oppressed minority sisters and brothers? If not, it is time. For one thing, the person will seem more human to you if you do. It is easy to lay aside the needs of others when they do not affect us directly. For another, you might discover your own racism, however unintentional, and find concrete ways to work on it. None of us can do a lot. St Mother Teresa of Calcutta once said, concerning her great work,” it may be only a drop in the ocean, but the ocean is made out of ‘drops,’ and without my ‘drop,’ the ocean would be one drop less.”

I placed a milli-drop of water in that ocean last week when I found myself compelled to prayerfully go to the place where Mr. Floyd died. As you might guess, there is a huge makeshift memorial to him that spills into the intersection, and murals on the walls of the store where he last visited before his arrest. I laid a special rosary there, now part of that memorial, which I had used several times praying in front of the local Planned Parenthood. Pro-life is not limited to abortion. When one of our Lord’s family suffers, especially in such a way as George Floyd did, there is not much clearer a demonic picture of the culture of death. Praying to our Blessed Mother at the exact location where he cried for his, I was moved beyond words. I can do much more, but I could not do less.

Might I challenge you to do something this week to help heal the cultural, and, if applicable, the personal sin of racism in your life?

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2 thoughts on “Pray My Name—Racism and God”

  1. I seems to me a little more objective thinking is required in this and similar incidents. I realize that sounds a bit uncompassionate but when they get to court, that is exactly what they should be. It should also be noted that that a perceived fair court system goes a long way to stopping riots before they start, as does the swift apprehension of those breaking the law.

    1. Thanks for your comments, Donald Link. Sadly, George Floyd never made it to court. He was killed instead. The police personnel are going to have their days in court, and I pray that justice is done. My article did not deal with the political implications but rather the heart issues. Please pray for Mr. Floyd and his family, and the officers too. God bless.

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