Silence is Deafening

The Gospel of St. Mark, selected verses:
“It was the third hour when they crucified him. They crucified two robbers with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their fist…In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves…Those crucified with him also heaped insults on him. At the sixth hour darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Some women were watching from a distance… In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs.”

At the crucifixion, Christ is utterly alone. For three years he shared every day, every night, every meal, every possession with his disciples. Now, in his greatest hour of need, they are nowhere to be found. Christ is left to suffer at the hands of his persecutors. The silence of the disciples at the moment when they were required to object the loudest mirrors our own failings as the Church to cry out on behalf of the poor and the oppressed. For those who hang upon the cross of suffering, the silence of the church is deafening.

Writing about the German church’s response to the Nazis, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “The church was silent where she should have cried out…the church confesses that she has witnessed the lawless application of brutal force, the physical and spiritual suffering of countless innocent people, oppression, hatred and murder, and that she has not raised her voice on behalf of the victims and has not found a way to hasten to their aid. She is guilty of the deaths of the weakest and most defenseless brothers of Jesus Christ.”

We, the American church, are guilty of remaining silent as the poor and the oppressed suffer. We have not raised our voice to feed the homeless but mocked them, we have not cared for the elderly and dependents but have forgotten them, we have not visited the prisoner but reviled him, we have not loved the prostitute but hated her, we have not supported the migrant worker but outcast him, we have not cared for our brothers and sisters abroad but sought our own kingdom and our own righteousness. The cross of suffering is not only endured in the wake of an earthquake in Haiti. It is daily borne and suffered by the weakest and most defenseless members of our world. Daily we are confronted, like St. Peter, as to whether “You also were with that Nazarene, Jesus.” Shall we respond with a curse? Shall we cry out for the poor and the oppressed?

My silence is deafening.