A Trinity Sunday Homily on Racism

Dear Fathers,

I know that many of you haven’t spoken out on racism because you’re not sure what to say. Or because you think it’s too political an issue. Or because you think it goes without saying. But our Church is filled with people who unthinkingly benefit from oppressive structures, with people who are openly or subtly racist, with people who mean well but are unaware of the need to stand with the oppressed and marginalized right now.

Your Black parishioners need to know that you will fight for them. Your other parishioners need your prophetic voice to call them out of sin (sins of omission and sins of commission). So I wrote this homily for Trinity Sunday for those who might benefit. Use it as a jumping-off point or just read it from the pulpit—no need to attribute anything to me.

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Today is the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, the feast that celebrates the central mystery of our faith: that God is one God in three persons, distinct but not separate.

It’s a truth of the faith that we often ignore. We acknowledge that God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and mutter something about a shamrock, feeling rather uncertain about what seems to be a faulty mathematical equation. And once a year you hear about the Trinity from the pulpit and the rest of the year we all go about our lives.

But the mystery of the Trinity reveals something powerful to us about God: that God is communion. When we say God is love, we don’t just mean that God is nice or that he loves you, but that he is love. He has always been love and will always be love, because he in himself is a communion of love.

Since before there was time, the Father has been pouring himself out in love to the Son and the Spirit, the Son pouring himself out in love to the Father and the Spirit, the Spirit pouring himself out in love to the Father and the Son. And when God so loved the world that he sent his only Son to live and die and rise for us, Jesus called on his follower to love in the same way. Not just to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Not just to “love your neighbor as yourself.” So much more than that: to love as he loves you (Jn 13:34). And how does Jesus love you? He tells us at the Last Supper: “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you” (Jn 15:9).

As the Father has loved him.

That makes the dogma of the Trinity rather more practical than theoretical. The Father loves the Son wildly, ceaselessly, eternally. Which means God loves you wildly, ceaselessly, eternally. And you have to love others wildly, ceaselessly, eternally.

It’s not enough just not to hate. You have to love, to pour yourself out, to sacrifice.

Imagine if God the Son had looked down on his people trapped in sin and plagued by the devil and said, “That’s not my problem.” Imagine if he had seen children abused and said, “Well, I didn’t abuse any children.” Imagine if he had murmured something about “human-on-human crime” and allowed every one of us to wend our way to damnation.

It’s a horrifying image, isn’t it?

God doesn’t love like that. God doesn’t ignore your pain.

My friends, there is a plague in this country. There has been since our founding: a plague of racism and injustice. And let me be very clear: racism is evil. It is a grave sin.

Now I know that many of you don’t hate Black and Brown people. Lots of you don’t even discriminate against them. That’s not enough. You have to fight for them, as Jesus fought for you. You have to listen to their stories. You have to learn about the systems of injustice that have oppressed people in this country for centuries. You have to examine your own areas of prejudice and beg the Lord to make you more like him, with a heart that pours itself out in love.

When Paul talks in the second reading about mending our ways and living in peace, he says that this fighting for justice and unity is the only way that our God who is love will truly be with us. Ignoring suffering and division doesn’t build up the body of Christ, even if you genuinely had nothing to do with it. Loving suffering people, listening to them, fighting for justice in our schools, in our justice system, in our Church—that’s what builds up the body of Christ.

God’s nature teaches us about our nature. He has made us to be like himself: merciful, gracious, slow to anger, rich in kindness. He has made us to pour ourselves out in love. But unlike God’s love, our love is not a pure gift of mercy. It’s demanded by justice. We have to recognize the ways we’ve been complicit, the jokes we shouldn’t have laughed at, the suffering we shouldn’t have ignored. And if we’re going to call ourselves Christians, we have to follow the Spirit’s prompting to grow and learn and love better.

To my Black brothers and sisters1: I’m sorry. I don’t just mean some vague expression of sympathy. I mean I apologize. I apologize on behalf of Church leadership that has failed so many times over the centuries to honor your dignity and fight for your freedom. I apologize on behalf of people who wear the name of Christian while harboring the sin of racism in their hearts. And I apologize for my own behavior, for the ways I’ve been complicit, for failing to listen to you, to fight for you. I’m so sorry.

My friends, this is not a political homily. This is not about police. This is not about protests. This is about a God who is love and is calling you to love sacrificially, even when it’s uncomfortable. I’m just not sure how we can mark ourselves with the sign of the Cross if we’re unwilling to share in the Cross, even in the smallest way, for love of our brothers and sisters.

Ask the Holy Spirit to make you uncomfortable. Ask the crucified Son of God to lead you to love sacrificially. Ask the Father for mercy, mercy, mercy. Pray for justice. Pray for peace. But do the work.

Let us love one another. Whatever it costs.

  1. If I were delivering this address, I would livestream it. And if there weren’t any Black people in the church, I would turn to the camera and say, “To my Black brothers and sisters listening here or online. I would not omit this paragraph. []

Author: Meg

I'm a Catholic, madly in love with the Lord, His Word, His Bride the Church, and especially His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Eucharist. I'm committed to the Church not because I was raised this way but because the Lord has drawn my heart and convicted my reason. After 2 degrees in theology and 5 years in the classroom, I quit my 9-5 to follow Christ more literally. Since May of 2012, I've been a hobo for Christ; I live out of my car and travel the country speaking to youth and adults, giving retreats, blogging, and trying to rock the world for Jesus.

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