Upon This Rock We Stand!

A Reflection on Christ, Memory, and Hope

By Andrew Lyke

By now you may have noticed something.

This series was never really about a conference.

The conference simply gave us a place to begin.

It became the doorway into something much older.

Something much deeper.

A conversation about memory.

About brotherhood.

About vocation.

About healing.

About hope.

And beneath all of those…

about Christ.

The Rock Beneath Our Feet

When Jesus asked His disciples,

“Who do you say that I am?”

He wasn’t conducting a theological survey.

He was asking where they would place the weight of their lives.

Peter answered,

“You are the Christ.”

Everything else followed from that confession.

The Church would not stand because Peter was flawless.

The Church would stand because Christ is faithful.

That same question echoes through every generation.

Who do you say that I am?

Black Catholics have answered that question in a distinctive way.

Not merely with words.

With endurance.

Our ancestors answered while enslaved.

They answered under Jim Crow.

They answered while sitting in segregated pews.

They answered when their gifts were overlooked.

They answered while raising children in neighborhoods too often forgotten.

Again and again, they placed the weight of their lives upon Christ.

That is why they endured.

We Never Walk Alone

One of the unexpected gifts of revisiting this conversation with Fr. Ken Hamilton and James Watts is that I no longer hear only three voices.

I hear a great cloud of witnesses.

Archbishop James Lyke.

Sr. Thea Bowman.

Fr. Chester Smith.

Daniel Rudd.

Fr. Augustus Tolton.

The countless catechists, choir directors, mothers, fathers, grandparents, pastors, and lay leaders whose names may never appear in history books.

They are all here.

Not because we have summoned them.

But because love refuses to disappear.

The Church calls this the Communion of Saints.

Black people have always understood it instinctively.

Our ancestors remain present.

Not as ghosts.

Not as memories alone.

But as companions whose faith continues to strengthen our own.

Every time we gather, they gather with us.

Every time we sing, their harmonies linger beneath ours.

Every time we choose hope instead of despair, we honor the prayers they whispered long before we were born.

The Church Still Becoming

Throughout these reflections I have found myself returning to one conviction.

The Church is always becoming.

Not because Christ changes.

But because we do.

Each generation uncovers another dimension of the Gospel.

Each culture offers another gift.

Each people reveals another facet of God’s beauty.

Black Catholic spirituality is one of those gifts.

Not because it is better than another tradition.

But because without it, the Church cannot fully hear all that the Holy Spirit is saying.

We do not stand outside the Church asking to be invited in.

We stand within the Church offering what God has entrusted to us.

The Rock Still Holds

There have been moments when I wondered whether hope was realistic.

Moments when racism seemed too deeply rooted.

When injustice appeared too powerful.

When illness reminded me how fragile life really is.

When friends grew weary.

When beloved leaders died.

When it seemed easier to become cynical than faithful.

Yet every time I looked beneath my feet…

the Rock was still there.

Not because my faith never wavered.

But because Christ remained faithful even when I struggled.

Hope has never depended upon my strength.

Hope depends upon His.

The Conversation Continues

The Zoom recording was lost.

At least that is what I thought.

Now I know better.

The video disappeared.

The conversation did not.

In fact, I suspect the conversation has only just begun.

It continues every time brothers gather to pray.

Every time an elder tells a story to someone younger.

Every time a parish discovers the gifts hidden within its own people.

Every time someone decides that despair will not have the final word.

Every time another pilgrim arrives in Birmingham…

or Chicago…

or Atlanta…

or a small parish no one has ever heard of…

and discovers that Christ has already been waiting there.

Conversations rooted in Christ are never really over.

They simply find new voices.

Standing on the Rock

When I was younger, I thought faith meant standing firmly.

Age has taught me something different.

Faith is discovering that Someone stronger has been holding you all along.

That is the story hidden beneath this entire series.

We gather because Christ gathers us.

We remember because Christ remembers us.

We make pilgrimage because Christ walks ahead of us.

We answer our vocation because Christ first called us.

We heal because Christ heals through His people.

We pass the fire because Christ entrusted His mission to ordinary disciples.

Everything returns to Him.

Everything begins with Him.

Everything endures because of Him.

That is the Rock beneath our feet.

The Rock beneath our history.

The Rock beneath the National Black Catholic Men’s Conference.

The Rock beneath every Black Catholic family that has refused to surrender hope.

The Rock beneath every parish that continues to sing through suffering.

The Rock beneath every young man wondering whether there is a place for him in the Church.

There is.

Because there has always been.

Christ was here before us.

He will remain long after us.

And somewhere, generations from now, another brother will gather with friends, tell stories of those who came before him, and discover—as we have—that he is not standing alone.

He is standing on the Rock.

Thanks be to God!