Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
On that day, as evening drew on, Jesus said to his disciples: “Let us cross to the other side.” (Mk. 4:35-41)
This weekend’s Gospel begins with the disciples of Jesus wishing to go to the “other side.” As they traveled on dangerous waters, they merely wanted to get to the “other side.” Jesus was resting, sleeping in the stern, when a violent storm approached. Frightened, the disciples awakened him. Terrified, they pleaded with Jesus to save them. On the one hand, their faith told them that Jesus could “handle” it. On the other hand, their fear told them that they needed to wake him up just to be sure. Jesus was with them and had been with them, although asleep, still with them. They were sleepwalking in their faith despite being in Jesus’ presence, not recognizing until they woke him up that they were safe. Stirring up and waking up the Jesus in our lives, too, seems so essential as we try to get to the “other side” of our troubles, travails, and anxieties. We often profess the presence of Jesus in our lives, but how often do we awaken him to the degree that he affects and informs our actions?
As I reflect on Juneteenth, I recall growing up in Texas, where annual celebrations, commemorations, and observations were commonplace. This was not necessarily the case in most of the rest of the country. One of the largest commemorations was in Mexia, Texas, where sometimes over 20,000 people would gather over a weekend and peacefully grill, play music, and participate in familial festival merriment. These went on for decades and were abruptly interrupted in 1981 when local law enforcement detained three back teenagers, Anthony Freeman, Carl Baker, and Steve Booker, for alleged marijuana possession. They were placed under arrest, handcuffed, and placed in a small boat, and were escorting them to the “other side” of Lake Mexia. The small, rickety boat capsized, killing the teens as the officers swam to safety.
Juneteenth and the celebrations around Lake Mexia were never the same after that. The senseless loss of life and the non-indictment of the officers divided an already polarized community and energized them.
Long before this 1981 incident, a community activist whose childhood home had been burned by the Klu Klux Klan began a campaign to inform Texas, the United States, and the world about the history and the hopes of Juneteenth. What the original meaning of how enslaved persons celebrated freedom upon finally hearing word in Texas albeit two years later than the rest of the country. Opal Lee is an educator, activist, and great-grandmother who has made Juneteenth her life’s work. She walked thousands of miles, and finally, in her mid-90s, Juneteenth was designated as a national holiday. She had previously succeeded in making it a state holiday in Texas, causing several individual states to follow suit. Opal (as she insists we call her) is a dear friend and mentor of mine.
Despite her many honors, including several honorary doctorates and awards, her prized accomplishment was raising awareness of Juneteenth to the world. And while she has achieved international fame, including a Nobel prize nomination, I know Opal in a completely different way. I know here as a woman who lived out her AME (African Methodist Episcopal) faith roots in how she treated others. Opal started a food bank for those without food, worked on Habitat houses, and testified before policymakers on behalf of persons who were poor. It was also not unusual for her to leave her Sunday worship and walk 6 blocks to my Catholic parish and attend services with her children and grandchildren. Opal is a woman who stirs up and wakes up the Jesus inside her.
It seems important in 2024, as it did in 1981 and 1865, to look toward the “other side.” Those before us constantly remind us that Jesus is ever present in our midst, not just a skilled navigator and masterful meteorologist but a loving, caring spirit willing to guide, save, and sustain.
Author: Ralph McCloud is the past director of the Catholic Campaign for Human Development (CCHD), an anti-poverty campaign at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. He retired after 16 years there and over 35 total in active Church Ministry.
Prior to his time leading CCHD, he worked as the Division Director of Pastoral and Community Services in the Diocese of Fort Worth, Texas. He has served as President of the National Association of Black Catholic Administrators and as a board member for the National Black Catholic Congress, the Roundtable Association of Social Action Directors, and the Center for Migration Services of New York. He is the current Chair of the Catholic Mobilizing Network.
Ralph has received numerous awards, including the Courage Award from the Texas Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty (2009), the History Maker Award from the Archdiocese of Atlanta (2009), Catholic Charities USA’s Martin Luther King Keep the Dream Alive Award (2010), and the Bishop John Joseph Keane Medallion from the Institute for Policy Research & Catholic Studies from the Catholic University of America (2017). In 2024, Pax Christi USA bestowed its Eileen Egan Peacemaker Award on McCloud, an honor the organization last granted in 2010.
McCloud is on the Leadership Group for the Initiative on Catholic Social Thought and Public Life at Georgetown University. He is a Fellow of NETWORK Lobby and a member of St. Teresa of Avila Parish in Washington, D.C., where he serves as a lector and member of the Finance Council.
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