Month: January 2025

Sorry, Not Sorry, Amen

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Non-Lectionary2 Comments

I don’t know about you, but it seems like the older that I get, the more honest and forthright I become. The filter with which I was taught to cover my mouth doesn’t work as well as it once did.

For example: When any person says that gender is a binary, black and white issue, they are not just being unkind, they are being stupid!

Did I say that out loud?

And when a preacher says it, they are not just being stupid, they are being cruel. And when the President of the United States says it, they are not just being cruel, they are being wicked!

I’m just honestly telling it like it is. Sorry, not sorry.

I used to admire older people who unapologetically told it like it was, affirming their boldness by saying: “Well, at your age, you’ve earned the right to just come right out and say it!”

Now that I am older, I am thinking that it wasn’t so much that they had earned the right to lose their filter as much as they had become aware that their time on this earth was limited.

We just don’t have the time anymore to beat around the bush, to waste precious time mincing and sugar-coating our words. There’s no time to “diddle-daddle around,” as my grandmother used to say.

Or it could be that with age comes wisdom, and we realize that harsh honesty is always better than soft BS!  Speaking a truth flat-out is always better than tiptoeing around that truth, even if the truth makes those around us squirm.

This seems to be the wisdom of the writers of those Psalms we call the “Lament Psalms” which make up about one-third of all the Psalms.

I love these Psalms for their sheer honesty. They are unashamedly real. They openly speak to the reality of our pain, frankly speak to our frailty, and candidly speak of our failures. They also speak straight to the reality of the pain of our world: the plight of the poor; the despair of the displaced, the fears of the vulnerable, the evil of war, and the scourge of disease.

And they hold nothing back when they speak to the wickedness of those in power, and the injustices that ensue, economic and social.

And they speak of the reality of what sometimes seems like God’s apathy or even absence in the world.

In the tenth Psalm, we read the Psalmist honestly questioning:

Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?

These psalms sometimes speak the truth of what seems like the cruelty of God. In the sixth Psalm, we read:

O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger, or discipline me in your wrath.”

Professor Walter Brueggemann writes that the Lament Psalms “break the force of denial” teaching us the importance of telling it like it is. They teach us the importance of declaring out loud that things are bad when things are bad. And they teach us to honestly say that when it comes to God, and God’s relationship with the world, even on our best days, we have our doubts.

However, that’s not our tendency, is it? Many of us were brought up to believe that any amount of crying, complaining, protesting, or lamenting means that our faith is weak, that we are being immature, “whiny little babies.” And to ever question God, well, that is simply out of the question!

However, the Lament Psalms move us in the opposite direction. They persuade us to not only tell it like it is, but to publically tell it like it is to God.

And these Psalms teach us that it this kind of truth-telling, that is the key to experiencing the hope we desperately need.

The thirty-second Psalm speaks to the danger of keeping silent:

While I kept silence, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long…my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.

In other words: “For fear of offending someone, I didn’t speak up, I didn’t tell the truth, and it nearly killed me!”

Psalm 6 is one of my favorite Psalms. For here the Psalmist tells it like it is to God like none other.

2 Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;
O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror.
3 My soul also is struck with terror,
while you, O Lord—how long?
6 I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.
7 My eyes waste away because of grief;
they grow weak because of all my foes.

 Here the Psalmist tells the truth, the whole truth, to God. There is no holding back, no pretending to be strong because others will think they are weak. There is no denial. This Psalmist keeps it very real. And notice what happens next! Look at what happens somewhere between the verses of seven and eight.

Somewhere between the verses, God shows up. Peace comes. Hope happens. Life is restored. Thus, in verse eight, the Psalmist is able to confidently proclaim:

8 Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.
9 The Lord has heard my supplication;
the Lord accepts my prayer.

Now, we don’t know what exactly happened between verses seven and eight. We just know that something happened, and that something was Divine. Somewhere between the verses God breathed new life on the Psalmist. When the Psalmist told it like it was, God showed up.

Maybe God came through a still small voice, or through a wave of peace beyond their understanding. Or maybe God came through love expressed by a friend, or through a visit from a concerned neighbor. Perhaps someone cooked supper and brought it over, or simply offered a listening ear or an empathetic embrace. We just know that somewhere between the verses, God, in some inexplicable yet certain way, came.

We witness this while reading nearly every lament psalm. Whether the lament is honestly expressing personal pain, or the corporate pain of a nation. Listen once more to Psalm 10. The truth the Pslamist speaks is so real that it is still true today, 2500 years later. Listen again to the timeless lament:

2 In arrogance the wicked persecute the poor—

3 For the wicked boast of the desires of their heart,

   those greedy for gain curse and renounce the Lord.

4 In the pride of their countenance the wicked say, ‘God will not seek it out’;

   all their thoughts are, ‘There is no God.’

5 Their ways prosper at all times;

   your judgements are on high, out of their sight;

   as for their foes, they scoff at them.

6 They think in their heart, ‘We shall not be moved;

   throughout all generations we shall not meet adversity.’

7 Their mouths are filled with cursing and deceit and oppression;

   under their tongues are mischief and iniquity.

8 They sit in ambush in the villages;

   in hiding-places they murder the innocent.

Their eyes stealthily watch for the helpless;

9   they lurk in secret like a lion in its covert;

they lurk that they may seize the poor;

   they seize the poor and drag them off in their net.

10 They stoop, they crouch,

   and the helpless fall by their might.

11 They think in their heart, ‘God has forgotten,

   he has hidden his face, he will never see it.’

12 Rise up, O Lord; O God, lift up your hand;

   do not forget the oppressed.

13 Why do the wicked renounce God,

   and say in their hearts, ‘You will not call us to account’?

 And then, it is here, somewhere between verses 13 and 14, that something happens, and again, that something is Divine.

14 But you do see! Indeed, you note trouble and grief,

   that you may take it into your hands;

the helpless commit themselves to you;

   you have been the helper of the orphan.

15 Break the arm of the wicked and evildoers;

   seek out their wickedness until you find none.

16 The Lord is king for ever and ever;

   the nations shall perish from his land.

17 O Lord, you will hear the desire of the meek;

   you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear

18 to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed,

so that those from earth may strike terror no more.

Again, we don’t know how it happened, we just know that something happened. Somewhere between the verses, God showed up, as the Psalmist becomes convinced that God who once seemed to be blind to the injustices of the wicked does in fact see!

When the Psalmist honestly and publicly laments: This is not right. This is not fair. This is unjust. This is mean and cruel and evil and stupid. This is wicked. When the Psalmist courageously calls out injustice, calls a spade a spade, a crook a crook, despair is suddenly transformed into hope and sorrow into joy, as somehow, someway, somewhere God comes.

Perhaps someone, having listened to the cries of the powerless, courageously, unapologetically, and yet, graciously, stood up, looked the wicked ones in the eyes and honestly spoke truth to power, pleading for mercy on the behalf of the powerless, making the wicked the squirm in their pews.

Perhaps someone spoke up at a meeting of the city council, wrote a letter to the editor, or honestly corrected a misguided friend or family member who had been brainwashed by lies and misinformation.

Maybe it was something like a group of interfaith clergy who got organized, and in a sign of prophetic solidarity exchanged pulpits to honor a truth-telling prophet named Martin Luther King Jr.

Maybe this small act of solidarity grew into a mighty movement as the group of clergy, who honestly and publicly called out the injustices in the land, the evil of sick religion and the wickedness of greedy politics, began working together with their congregations to feed the hungry, to shelter the homeless, and to defend the marginalized—to stand up for the sacred value and dignity of all persons.

The courageous group of clergy never held back for fear of offending someone, for fear of losing a congregant or a big donation, as they unapologetically renounced the spiritual forces of wickedness in the land and unashamedly resisted evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they took.

Then, their public faithfulness began to inspire others. People throughout the region became more aware, and more wise, knowing that they no longer had the time to diddle-daddle around with their faith. Their time was too short, and the times were too serious.

With hearts wide-open to the honest cries, to the pain, and to the needs of others, especially the most vulnerable in their midst, they understood that they must honestly and publicly take a stand and work somewhere between the verses of lament and the verses of hope, until all of God’s children are able to get those verses where they are able to confidently sing:

O God, you do see! You do hear!  And the arms of the evil doers will be broken. The Lord will seek out their wickedness until there is no more. The Lord will be king forever and ever! Justice will be done for the oppressed. And the wicked will strike terror no more!

Sorry, not sorry, Amen.

You Are God’s Beloved

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year CLeave a comment

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 NRSV

I often wonder where it all went wrong. How did it get so bad? Of course, I am talking about Christianity. Why did it become so mean, so hateful, and so ugly? If following the way of love that Jesus taught, modeled, and embodied, is the road we should be traveling, many Christians not only seem to be off track, but they seem to be going in the exact opposite direction.

It’s like, instead of going home by another way, the wise men went back to King Herod and collaborated with the empire, and for the sake of wealth, power, cheap eggs and gas, told the King exactly where he could find the boy Jesus and exterminate him.

Because it’s like many have never heard any of the stories of Jesus. How he with his parents fled violence as refugees in Egypt. How he grew up to lead a revolutionary movement of non-violence resisting the powers that be. How he called out their corruption, their greed, and their lust for power. How he was a radical advocate and ally for anyone who was marginalized by the culture or by sick religion. How he challenged systems of injustice that hurt women, alienated foreigners, demeaned Eunuchs, and were blind to the needs of the poor.

         It’s like some Christians today have not just misinterpreted the gospel but have rewritten it for their own self-interest.

         I often wonder if part of the problem is the way it was all introduced and explained to me in the first place. For years, every Sunday, I heard the same message. I was born into this world a lowly sinner and because of that sin, I was separated by God and would be punished by God for all of eternity, unless I did something about it, namely accepting Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior, and then getting baptized to wash all my sins away.

         I would go home from church almost every Sunday feeling absolutely rotten, worthless, dirty, unloved. Well, one day after church, when I was ten years old, I had had enough. I was tired of all the guilt, so I told my parents that I wanted to be baptized. I wanted to get clean. I wanted God to love me.

They told me that I needed to pick up the telephone and call the preacher and tell him that I wanted to be baptized, which I did. On the phone, he said he would come over to my house later in the week to talk to me about it.

I remember sitting outside on the patio with him when he said something like: “Jarrett, were all born into this world separated by God because of sin. But God loves us very much.”

I must have had a confused look on my face, or he must have thought I was a tad on the slow side, because that was when he got out a spiral notebook, opened it up, and began drawing me a picture.

He drew what first looked like the logo for McDonalds, but then he said, “It’s like there’s these two mountains.” He wrote my name on one mountain and the word “God” on the other mountain. He called the space in between the mountains “a valley,” and there wrote the word “sin.”  He said, God is here on this mountain, but you are way over here on this other mountain, and sin is the valley that separates you.

Then he drew a bridge connecting the mountains and writing the word “Jesus” under the bridge, he said: “But God loves you and sent Jesus, who never sinned, to die on the cross, to be a bridge so you can cross over the valley to be on the side with God.”

He then asked me: “Jarrett, don’t you want to be on the mountain with God?”

I thought to myself: “Or stay on this other mountain and one day go to hell forever? Nah, I think I’ll take that bridge, thank you very much.”

He said: “Jarrett, when you are baptized, it is a way of saying that you believe Jesus died for you on the cross and rose again, and it is like you are crossing the bridge, to be with God. When you are baptized your sins are washed away. Your sins are forgiven, so they no longer separate you from God.”

“Well, how fast can I get baptized?” was my reply.

But later, I had questions. I had lots of questions. The main one was: “If God loves us so much why did God put us on the wrong mountain in the first place? Why did God create us as sinners? And: “If God really loves us, why would God threaten to punish us for all of eternity if we do not choose to be with God and get baptized?”

But whenever I would raise such questions, I would get this convoluted response about free will, that God only wants people who choose to love God to be with God.”

And if I replied: “Well, that sure doesn’t sound like a very good and loving God to me, as that sounds like God only loves people who love God back.”

It was then I got: “Jarrett, it is not for us to question it, but to just believe it.”

But all of this would lead to even more questions, like: “If Jesus was perfect and never sinned, and if baptism is about having your sins forgiven and washed away, why did Jesus get baptized? Surely Jesus wasn’t separated from God? Right?”

“Of course not,” I thought “Because he wasn’t a sinner. And sin is what separates us from God. And there was this vision at Jesus’ baptism of heaven being opened wide, the Holy Spirit descending in the form of a dove, and this voice from heaven saying the most beautiful words, words that are the antithesis of: “You are a sinner, separated or cut off from God”— “You are my Child, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

So, why was Jesus baptized?

The answer that I most heard, even in seminary, was that by getting baptized in the manner we are encouraged to be baptized, Jesus was “identifying” with us. Jesus was becoming like us.

I was taught that this was the scandalous good news of the incarnation. That God identified with us poor sinners. That God, the source and essence of all that is, became flesh, became one of us.

That may be sound theology, but what if it is actually the other way around? What if got it completely backwards, or at least, there is much more to it?

Early church theologian Athanasius, put it this way: Jesus became one of us, so that we might become like him.

Instead of Jesus being baptized like us, maybe it’s more like we are baptized like Jesus.

For isn’t that the goal of every disciple, to be like Jesus?

Maybe we have misunderstood the nature of baptism, because we have misunderstood the whole notion of this thing we call forgiveness.

For how many of us were taught that we are sinners, separated from God, and need to be forgiven, to have those sins washed away in order to be named as one of God’s beloved children? Instead of being taught the exact opposite: that because we already are God’s beloved children, God forgives us? How many of us were taught that forgiveness is a condition to receive God’s love, instead of being taught that forgiveness is the result of God’s love?

We need forgiveness, only the most depraved believe they don’t need, and Baptism is indeed about forgiveness, but baptism is primarily about love. Baptism is about affirmation. Baptism is about a holy covenant, an intimate relationship. It is about our sacred identity as children of God. And forgiveness is a by-product of that identity.

When Jesus is baptized, Jesus hears God say these incredibly important words of love, affirmation, and identity: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the good news is that when we are baptized or when we remember our Baptisms or our confirmations, we are to hear the same thing: “You are my child, my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.”

Like Jesus’ baptism, when we are baptized, whether we were infants, children, or adults, God promises God’s unconditional love for us. God calls us, names us, and claims us as God’s beloved children.[i]

Think of how different this world would be today if more people understood this. That everyone, regardless of their religion, or lack of religion, believed that every human being is a beloved child of God.

I can’t help but to believe that it would turn the world upside down, and Christianity back right-side up.

There would be more less meanness and more kindness, less inequality and more justice, less blame and more responsibility, less judgment and more grace, less indifference and more empathy, less violence and more peace, and less fear and more love.

So, this morning, I am not sure who needs to hear it. Perhaps we all need to hear it. Even if we have heard it before or have always believed it, we need to hear it again and again and again.

So, let’s listen carefully to the word of God. For the heavens are wide open. There is no separation between heaven and the earth. The Holy Spirit is descending, and God is speaking—in the quietness of an evening snowfall in the laughter of children playing in the snow—in the solitude of a morning walk, or in a raucous crowd watching a basketball game—lying in bed on a cold Sunday morning, on sitting on a pew in a sanctuary—listen, there is no separation between God and the earth.

You were not born on the wrong mountain because there is only one holy mountain.

There is no separation between God and “you.” There has never been, and there never will anything on heaven or on earth that separates you. Did you hear that? “You.” “You” is such a powerful world, especially in the second-person singular. When someone says, “you,” they see you. They have identified you. And this “You” is coming from God. Do you hear it? Listen carefully. Block out everything else. Listen to the creator and essence of the universe:

“You are my beloved child. And with you, I am well pleased.[ii]

[i] Inspired and adapted from David Lose https://www.davidlose.net/2019/01/the-baptism-of-our-lord-c-forgiveness-and-so-much-more/

[ii] Inspired and adapted from Karoline Lewis https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/the-power-of-you

Home by Another Way

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Sermons Year CLeave a comment

 

Participating in a nonviolent Moral Monday March in Raleigh NC in 2015

Matthew 2:1-12 NRSV

As many of you know, my wife Lori works downtown at the Free Clinic of Central Virginia which has recently suffered major damage from a fire which was started outside in the parking lot. The building has been condemned and it will take weeks, maybe eve months, before it can be used again. It is a tragic situation as many with low income depend on the clinic not only for healthcare, but for emergency dental services. So, as a church in Lynchburg, it is important that we pray for the staff, and for the Free non-profit’s board of directors, that they will be able to wisely respond to this disaster so they can continue serving this community.

Our church’s support of the Free Clinic seems to be more important when we consider that it was one of our very own, Anne Bishop, who worked with another one of our church members, Jack Scudder, to found the free clinic thirty years ago.

Lori and I had the opportunity to visit with Anne on the Sunday after leading my first worship service here, and I had the honor of officiating Anne’s memorial service just a couple of weeks later. To describe Anne’s trail-blazing, pioneering spirit which led her to start the Free Clinic, during her service, I talked about the unique way that Anne drove a car.

Whenever Anne traveled, she always made sure she returned home by another way. To make the trip more interesting, and to learn more about her surroundings, she was always fond of taking a different route home, even, when she traveled in other country. When she traveled overseas, she would order maps and highlight the roads to make sure she always arrived back to her starting point by another way. Her daughter Kathy said: “After returning a rental car in England, the clerk, who evidently had some type of GPS history on the car, asked: ‘Ma’am, did you drive down every road in Great Britain?’”

It was then that I pointed out that “Home by Another Way” are the exact words that Matthew uses to describe the journey of the wise men after they worshipped Jesus, laying down their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Having been warned in a dream not to return to King Herod as the king had requested, Matthew says they went “home by another way.”

I then pointed out that death is often described as a homecoming or a homegoing, and as people of faith, we believe this journey home called life matters. How we go home makes a difference. Do we go home following the instructions of King Herod? Do we collaborate with the empire, bow down to those in power, accept the status quo, go with the culture? Or do we choose to go home by another way?

Do we go home following the way of power and greed, of fear and violence? Or do we go home following the way of love and generosity, of compassion and of peace?

After King Herod’s encounter with the Wise Ones looking for the child who was said to be “king of the Jews,” Matthew says that King Herod was “afraid.” And then adds: “And all of Jerusalem with him.”

For the nation instinctively knew that if its self-absorbed, narcissistic, authoritarian leader was afraid, everyone should be afraid. Because, as almost always the case with the King Herod’s of the world, fear leads to violence.

Obviously, the Wise Ones sensed Herod’s fear, and knowing his violent reputation and his propensity to stoke and orchestrate violence against the innocents, when they went to bed that night, one, or maybe all of them, had a dream which warned them to go home by another way.

For when it comes to fear and to violence, when it comes to bowing down to authoritarians who stoke fear and promote violence, wise people of faith are always led to go home by another way.

 It was surreal to awakened on the first day of the year to the news of violence in New Orleans. And it certainly didn’t take long for the King Herods of the world to use that violence to stoke even more fear in the nation, scapegoating immigrants, which will certainly lead to more violence.

The good news is, as you may have read in the newsletter this week, our church’s outreach team has proposed that our church use 2025 to go home by another way, by committing ourselves to a movement of nonviolence.

During this first quarter, our church is honored to have the opportunity host Father John Dear, a world-renowned author and advocate for nonviolence who was nominated by Desmond Tutu for the Nobel Peace Prize. As this year’s Turner-Warren/Shumate Lecturer, Father Dear will host a workshop on non-violence on March 22, speak here in this sanctuary the 23rd and at the University of Lynchburg on the 25th.

We may have awakened this year to the news of violence and fear, but we are going to go through this new year by another way, a way of love and grace, a way of truth and compassion, a way of doing justice and making peace. We are going to go through 2025 by a way of nonviolence, a way of living that is encouraged by all the great world religions, as it is rooted in the belief that the creative force of the universe is love; God, God’s self, is love.

Thus, peacemakers like Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. gave their lives teaching that the most important thing that human beings can do is to exercise this creative force by learning to love the way we were created to love. For Gandhi and King, following a way of nonviolence was understood as the science of how we create life in the image of God, how we create a world that practices justice, truth, and compassion.

Dr. King noted that Gandhi was probably the first person in history to lift the love ethic of Jesus above mere interaction between individuals to a powerful and effective “social force on a large scale.” “Love, for Gandhi,” said King, “was a potent instrument for social and collective transformation,” and [the nonviolent resistance philosophy of Gandhi] was the only morally and practically sound method open to oppressed people in their struggle for freedom.”

Dr. King understood that although the way of nonviolence sounds passive and ineffective, it is the most active and effective resistance of evil in the world.

 Through the way nonviolence, courage displaces fear. Love transforms hate. Acceptance dissipates prejudice. Hope ends despair. Peace dominates war. Faith reconciles doubt. Mutual regard cancels enmity. Justice for all overthrows all injustice. And the redemptive community supersedes the systems of gross social immorality.

Nonviolence is not for cowards and passive people but requires much bravery and courage.

Nonviolence is not just a temporary attitude. It’s a full-time way of life. Nonviolence is assertive spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Nonviolence is always informing and persuading the opponents of justice.

Dorothy Day wrote in 1967 that she regretted that she had not done more to promote nonviolence “as a way of life.” Father John Dear comments: “I think we can all do more to nourish, study, cultivate and promote nonviolence as a way of life, as a spiritual path, as the basis for people in power, as a political methodology for change, and as a hermeneutic for Christian discipleship. Active nonviolence is the best hope for humanity.”

In response to the fear that King Herod possessed and stoked among the people, and to the violence that would surely follow, after paying homage to the baby Jesus, the Wise Men decided to go home by another way, the way of nonviolence. But they were not retreating. They were not running away. And they were not being passive in any way.

Choosing to go home another way was very active resistance. It was a way of telling the world that they would not bow down to King Herod. They would not be attracted to his power, seduced by his fame, duped by his wealth, or conned by his charisma.

And neither are we.

By choosing to go home by another way, the way of nonviolence, we are joining a movement of most active resistance—

One which actively wages peace, not war; passionately fights poverty, not people who are poor; ferociously attacks homelessness, not the homeless; aggressively opposes bigotry, not people who are queer.

We are choosing to go home by a way that dynamically endangers easy gun access, not school children; assiduously admonishes men who attempt to control the bodies of women, not the women who are those bodies.

This way wholeheartedly works to banish unkind immigration policies, not immigrants. It vehemently demands fair living wages, adequate housing, and free access to education and healthcare, not the exact opposite.

We are choosing a way that fervently heals spiritual trauma and never causes it; vigorously protects the environment and doesn’t threaten it; and tirelessly works for justice that is restorative, not punitive.

We are choosing a way that defeats evil, not the evil doers. It destroys fascism, not the fascist. It kills Christian Nationalism and religious extremism, not religious people. It vanquishes the fool heartedness of our neighbors, not our neighbors.

So, you see, this way is not for the coward nor the passive. It is for the courageous and the brave.

And it is also for the wise.

Because choosing the peace-making, compassion-loving, justice-doing way of nonviolence is always our best response to the fear-mongering King Herods of this world, especially when those kings can cause an entire nation to be afraid with them.

The question our gospel lesson asks us today is simply: Will we be wise ones too and choose this way? Will we be brave and courageous and choose to actively resist the King Herods of the world?

I pray we will. Amen.