Category: Lent

Anointing a Movement

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

John 12:1-8 NRSV

Palm Sunday is just a week away, and you know what that means. Well, at least according to the Revised Common Lectionary, it’s time to gather around the table with Jesus for an unforgettable dinner party where so much more is happening around, and under the table, than we can imagine.

In fact, there must be more happening around this table, or this whacky supper scene would be like some bizarre, meaningless dream, like the kind we have when we’re sick with a fever.

It’s a scene that begs us to take a deep dive, asking some serious questions.

Because, seated at the head of the table is none other than Lazarus, who just a few weeks ago was dead and buried. And this is no Weekend at Bernie’s situation! Lazarus is alive and kicking, because a few days ago, Jesus stood at his grave, called him by name, and raised him from the dead.

What on earth can this mean? That Jesus is at the table with Lazarus, who was dead and buried but is now asking someone to please pass the gravy!

We are told that Lazarus’ sister Martha is serving. Sounds like Martha. Always busy in the kitchen. His sister Mary’s also there. But she’s in the dining room with Jesus. Something else that makes sense, as we might remember Jesus’ visit with Mary and Martha as told by Luke.

But it’s what Mary does next that completely floors us! As Mary literally gets in the floor! The scene under the table is almost as insane as the living and breathing presence of Lazarus at the table! She’s down there anointing Jesus’ feet with a pound of very expensive perfume. Think about that! A pound of perfume! Of course, the fragrance fills the entire house.

Then, we have another surprise. Judas, the disciple whom John says is about to betray Jesus, is also at the table. Jesus is at the table with both friend and foe, ally and adversary. And just as we start to ponder the meaning such an inclusive, open table, Judas shocks us by asking a question that we can easily imagine Jesus asking, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?”

But just when we think that we have seen and heard everything, we are floored again by Jesus’ response: “The poor you will always have with you. You will not always have me.”

Oh, Jesus. I sure wished you hadn’t said that.

 Because Jesus, although it sounds absurd, because it is absurd, Christians will use that one sentence to justify ignoring over 2,000 verses in the Bible calling for economic justice and a civic responsibility to care for the poor, marginalized, and oppressed. Jesus, I know this sounds ridiculous, because it is ridiculous, Christians will make their faith solely about worshipping at your feet, praising you, instead of following you. In fact, they will worship you while embracing a way of life, that is the exact opposite of following you.

They will stand behind and support the Herods of this world who defund programs that serve the poor. They will bless authoritarians who cut humanitarian aid, leaving food intended to feed the hungry to rot in ports and warehouses. They will support tyrants who suspend refugee resettlement programs, who target and remove from the country certain ethnic groups without any due process or legal counsel. They will support executive orders criminalizing migrants, dismantling public education, that take away healthcare, eliminate food assistance and public health services, remove environmental protections, and deny science. And in the place of fair, progressive taxes, they will bless rulers who institute tariffs, causing the cost of goods and services to skyrocket, hitting the poorest amongst us the hardest—all to enrich the already ultra-rich.

And preachers, who claim Christian, will gather on Sunday morning, stand in pulpits, and not say one word about it. They will shrug their shoulders, and using your name, say something like: “Poverty? Well, there’s really nothing we can do about that. Like Jesus said, we’ll always have the poor among us.

So, Jesus, I really wished you hadn’t said that.

But you are Jesus. So, you must have a had a pretty good reason for saying it.

Hmm. Let’s think about this… You said it the context of this whacky dinner party where there is so much more going than we know.

Lazarus was dead and buried, but he’s now sitting upright and taking nourishment! Mary is under the table anointing your feet with this expensive perfume that she purchased for your burial, to anoint your dead body. Hmmm.

In the home of one who had been brought back to life from the dead, instead of anointing your dead body, she is anointing your living body.”

Jesus, I think we are beginning to see a theme here.

At a table, belonging to Lazarus, who had been called out of death into life, Mary anoints not the death of Jesus, but the life of Jesus. Mary anoints the living Jesus, the living way of Jesus, the living movement of Jesus.

So, maybe in defending the anointing of Mary to Judas, Jesus wasn’t saying that we can’t do anything about poverty. Jesus was saying that doing something about poverty in this world is going to take more than selling some perfume and writing a check. Eradicating poverty is going to take more than charity. It’s going to take a living movement. It’s going to take embracing a way of life, a holy movement, that challenges the corrupt systems of injustice, that resists the Empire, and speaks truth to power.

This whacky dinner party is beginning to make sense to us now, as it seems to me that one of the problems with the church today is that too many Christians prefer the dead feet of Jesus over the living feet of Jesus.. Just ask them: “Who is Jesus to you?” They’ll respond: “The one who died for my sins.”

They prefer the dead feet of Jesus over the living feet of Jesus that takes steps to bring good news to the poor and to the marginalized, the feet that takes a stand to liberate the oppressed, the feet that stands at the bedside of the sick brining life to the dying, and feet that even stands outside a tomb bringing life to the dead.

Jesus didn’t die for anyone’s sin. Jesus died because of sin. Jesus died because the Empire preferred a dead Jesus about personal and private salvation over a living Jesus about political and societal transformation.

In anointing the living feet of Jesus, Mary was anointing a movement—a dynamic, public, political movement of feet standing for justice, a movement of feet marching for peace, a movement of feet making strides for acceptance, belonging, diversity, equity, and inclusion.

Mary was anointing a way of living, a movement that put legs and feet on thoughts and prayers, that walks the extra mile to bless the poor, filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty.

At the dinner table of Lazarus who had been called out of death into life, Jesus is calling us out of death into life: “Do you want to do something that changes the world? Do you really want to do something about poverty? Then don’t embrace my dead body lying in a tomb. Embrace the life I am living, the way I am walking, the movement I am embodying. Walk the walk, take the steps, and make the stands I am making.”

Like he did while standing in front of the tomb of Lazarus, I believe Jesus is calling us out of death today. He is calling us by name, begging us to come out to become his living feet in this world.

I love the way the Apostle Paul states this truth in the fifth chapter of his letter to the Ephesians:

Wake up from your sleep!  Climb out of your coffins! Christ will show you the light!

So, watch your step. (C’mon Paul! He’s saying, “Watch how you march, where you stand.”)

Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. (And listen to this next sentence) These are desperate times!

So, don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly  (I hear: “Please don’t willfully misinterpret Jesus to avoid your responsibility to the poor. ‘Cause more than two thousand verses of scripture can’t be wrong.”)

Then, Paul says: “Make sure you understand what the Master wants” (Ephesians 5:14-17 MSG).

And what does the Master want?

The Master wants a movement. The Master needs us to do more than support a charity. The Master wants a movement. The Master wants fearless feet that march against all the forces of death in the world— the forces of greed, selfishness, disease, and violence—marching in a movement to raise the entire creation back to life!

The Master wants compassionate feet that take a stand for mercy, empathetic feet that walk in the shoes of another.

The Master wants gracious feet that run to welcome a stranger

The Master wants quick feet that jump to defend someone being oppressed, strong, determined feet that never retreat, give in, or give out.

The Master wants tireless feet that can stand for over 25 hours on a senate floor to proclaim words of love and truth, liberty and justice, fairness and equality, kindness, and decency to a nation in crisis.

The Master wants courageous feet that can stand in the street for two hours in the bright springtime sun on a Saturday afternoon in front of city hall to call out greed, bigotry, and corruption.

The Master wants caring feet that can stand for an hour in a silent vigil to be a public, prophetic witness for justice, or for just three minutes to speak truth to power at a meeting of the city council.

Six days after this dinner at Lazarus’ house, Jesus is, once again, at a table with his disciples. It would be his final dinner before nails are driven into his feet, as well as his hands. After the dinner, Jesus gets up from the table, takes off his robe, and ties a towel around himself. He then pours water into a basin and begins washing the feet of the disciples, wiping them with the towel around him.

Now, many will say that he was just teaching his disciples how to be a servant. But those of us who just have read the previous chapter… we have this idea that he is teaching us something more. Jesus was anointing a movement. Because Jesus knows that eradicating poverty and the problems of this world is going to take more than volunteering to serve in a soup kitchen. It’s going to take a movement—an anointed, living, dynamic, breathing, alive and kicking, nonviolent, courageous, public, street-taking, truth-telling, peace-making, mercy-seeking, justice-doing, forward-marching, love-infused, prophet-inspired, Spirit-empowered, Jesus-led movement.

Are we ready to be the feet in such a movement? The times are indeed desperate, so I pray we are.  Amen.

Time to Be Prodigally Prophetic

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

 

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 NRSV

One day, Jesus is confronted by some grumbling Scribes and Pharisees: “Jesus, why do we keep hearing these stories about you hanging out in some sketchy parts of town? We hear these rumors about you eating and drinking with those people, the kind of people everyone knows are sinners!”

 “And you claim to be a man of God!”

“Rabbi, if you are a Rabbi, let me tell you something. Our God is an awesome God who will punish not only the sinner, but the sinner’s children and grandchildren. God will strike you down with a lighten bolt, and if not that, send a cancer, a heart attack or maybe a stroke. And, Jesus, you better watch out, because if you get too many sinners in one place, too many sinners at one bar or pub, or in one city or in one nation, God might send a tornado or an earthquake, and take out everyone!”

When Jesus is confronted by these religious people with a bad and violent theology, he responds as he usually does—by telling a story. Here, he tells three stories—one about a lost sheep, another about a lost coin and another about a lost boy. The parable of the lost boy has been commonly referred to as the “Parable of the Prodigal Son” for some pretty good reasons.

Growing up in church, my home pastor would often use the dictionary when he came to a point like this in his sermon. I think he defined a word for us every Sunday!  He would say, “Now, Webster defines ‘prodigal’ as…”  In that spirit, but with a 21st century twist, allow me to do the same: Now, Google defines “prodigal” as…

  1. wastefully or recklessly extravagant
  2. giving or yielding profusely; lavish
  3. lavishly abundant; profuse
  4. a person who spends, or has spent, his or her money or substance with wasteful extravagance.

The youngest son had the gall to demand his inheritance so he could leave home.  Demanding his inheritance meant that he had come to this point in his life where he did not mind regarding his father as being dead and buried. Isn’t that nice?

Then the surprising part. The father just hands it over. Then, we are told that the boy ventures out into a wild and “distant country,” I guess like West Virginia, where he wasted every red cent whooping it up—thus, the designation “prodigal”— reckless, lavish, wasteful, extravagant.

When the boy ran out of money, there was a great famine in the land. That was when the prodigal son found a job feeding pigs, and things got so bad, the boy thought about eating and drinking with the pigs!

“Oh, of course there is a famine,” say the religious leaders with their bad and violent theology! “That is what we are trying to tell you!  A famine! That is brilliant!  Oooh. God is soooooo good. I bet that boy starves to death! Or at least gets a bad case of salmonella from eating with the pigs. And serves him right! A just punishment for a prodigal—one who had everything only to recklessly waste everything. Death from lack! Death from scarcity! What wonderful irony. How cool is God?”

 Jesus continues… “the boy decides to go back to the father and beg forgiveness…”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” the religious leaders howl, laughing at such a ridiculous scenario!

However, we know the rest of the story…

“And when he was “a long way off,” the father saw him and ran and embraced him. Think about this. How do you suppose this father saw him “a long way off?” Because the father had been waiting, looking down the road every day for the boy to return.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are sitting on the front porch with my brother and my sister, waiting and watching for Daddy to come home from work. We would position ourselves on the porch at just the right angle so if we squinted and strained hard enough, we could see through our dogwood trees and our neighbors’ crepe myrtles to get a glimpse of Daddy’s Green Ford LTD from a half a mile away. Then we would be ready to run out into the yard to pounce on Daddy as soon as he opened the car door to welcome him home.  As soon as he got out of the car I would jump on his back, while my sister and brother would grab both his legs. On a good day, if we could muster just enough leverage, Daddy would fall into the grass where we would lavish him with hugs and kisses like three little puppy dogs while he nearly tickled us to death. Mama, used to get on us. She’d remind us how tired Daddy was from working all day, and how one day when he drove up and saw us running and screaming towards the driveway, he was going to just keep going down the road!

I think mama was just jealous.

Every day, this father sat on his front porch, gazing down the road, watching and waiting, hoping and praying, grieving for his boy to return home. And while the boy was still a long way off, when through the fig and the olive trees the father could just make out his silhouette coming doing the road, the father got up and started running to meet his child, and throwing his arms around him, he began kissing him profusely.

I wonder how long the father waited for his son’s homecoming.  I wonder why the father waited. Can’t you just hear his concerned friends and neighbors, or maybe even his pastor telling him: “Old man, it’s time for you to move on. You’ve gotta get past this.  You’ve gotta face the facts. He’s not coming back. It’ time to get over it. It’s time to move on. Concentrate on your older boy who’s still here with you.”  But every day, the father still waited and watched and hoped and prayed and grieved.

 And he really didn’t have any evidence that his son was still alive. A young kid with a pocket full of cash, first time away from home, traveling alone—he was an easy target to any would-be thieves and murderers. Remember the story of the Good Samaritan? Still, the father patiently, and you might say…recklessly… waited. Every day, he kept looking down the road in front of his house. Straining to see, hoping and praying to see, his son coming home.

Then the great reunion and the biggest, most extravagant homecoming party anyone has ever heard of! The sandals, the ring, the robe, the best one! The calf, the fattest one! Nothing held back for this son who everyone thought was dead but now is alive, was lost and now is found.

And the religious leaders are seething, but now, with the older son. Listen how the older son talks about his brother: “How can you do this for ‘this son of yours?’ “How can you do this, not for ‘my brother,’ but for this one who’s, as far as I am concerned, a stranger, a foreigner, from some distant country?”

Then, it occurs to us.

We thought this was a story of a prodigal son, but it’s really a story of a prodigal father. It is a story of a parent’s love that is “reckless,” “profuse.” “extravagant,” and “excessive.”

When the boy wanted to leave home, the father recklessly gave him his inheritance. While the boy was gone out into the far country, his friends and neighbors would say that the father recklessly waited. And when the boy at last returned, the father recklessly threw an extravagant party. The father loved his son prodigally when he left home, he loved him prodigally while he was away from home, and he loved him prodigally when he returned home.

The good news is that is how our God loves each one of us.  It’s the exact opposite of violence. Our God is a God who, when it comes to love, holds nothing back. God’s love for us is extravagant, excessive, relentless, even reckless. The point of the story is that God’s love for us is profusely prodigal.

This is why we should never apologize for loving others in a way that the conservative religious culture would characterize as “liberal” or “radical.”

God is profusely prodigal in God’s desire to draw all of us unto God’s self. God is relentlessly radical to have us in God’s arms so God can shower us with divine kisses. And as the ranting of the religious leaders and the anger of the older brother reveal, such prodigal love, such extravagant grace and profuse mercy, such over-the-top compassion and empathy, will always be rejected by the conservative religious culture, and even frowned upon by some of our family members.

In fact, if we are praised by the predominant religious culture and by most in our families, then that is a tell-tell sign, that when it comes to love, when it comes to being a disciple of Jesus, we are doing something terribly wrong.

So, like a parent waiting on the porch for their wayward child to return home, may our love for others and for this planet, may our love for justice and equality, our love for diversity, equity, and inclusion, may our love for peace and freedom, always be profusely prodigal.

Then, it will be prophetically prodigal. Because love—when it is extravagant, when it is lavishly abundant and reckless, when it is completely nonviolent and unconditional, when it is radically counter-cultural and seemingly foolish—that’s the type of love that has the power to change the world! In fact, it is the only power that can change this world!

Ya gotta love that we are having our first nonviolent peace vigil this week on April Fool’s Day, as I am sure that we will have some passersby look at the signs we will be holding and say: “Look at dem crazy fools!” Because when we dare to be prophetically and publicly prodigal in a conservative, religious town, we are going to look foolish. And perhaps we are. How foolish are we?

  • We’re prodigally prophetic and foolish enough to believe that the only life worth living is a life that is given away.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe the Kingdom of God belongs to the poor.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe those who hunger and thirst for justice will be filled.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe the last shall be first.
  • Thus, we’re prodigally prophetic and foolish enough to use our power and privilege, not to enrich ourselves, but stand up for the marginalized, defend the most vulnerable, and free the oppressed.
  • We’re prophetically prodigal and foolish enough see every human being, every race, color, gender, and every sexual orientation, is the image of God, that every person is a beloved child of God.
  • We’re foolish enough to forgive seventy times seven.
  • We’re foolish enough to turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, give the very shirt off our back.
  • We’re prodigally foolish enough to feed the hungry, love an enemy, welcome a stranger, and visit a prison.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that this world, this earth can be a better place, that all of creation can live in peace.
  • We’re prodigally foolish enough to get back up when life knocks us down.
  • We’re prodigally foolish enough to never give up, never give in, and never give out.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that nothing can separate anyone from the love of God.
  • We’re recklessly, profusely, prodigally, prophetically foolish enough to believe that nothing can stop us, not even death, because nothing can stop love. Nothing can cause it to fade or to fail. Love always wins, and love never ends.

Light It Up: Changing the way we see the world to change the world

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


Inspired by Practicing Peace, Living Nonviolence: A Weekend with Rev. John Dear, March 22-25, 2025, Lynchburg, VA

Today’s lectionary gospel lesson is from Luke 13 where we read beginning with verse one:

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.

He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.

Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?

No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’

Here, Jesus is challenging some very bad theology. It’s a bad theology that supposes that people who suffer from the violent actions or inactions of authoritarians like Pontius Pilate somehow deserve what they get. The lives lost, harmed, displaced, or deported, are never the fault of the builders of towers or of the ones who make the executive orders.

It’s a bad theology that was created to always blame the victim, and it’s been called “one of the most sinister features of the fascist character.”[i]

The poor suffer, why? Because they are too lazy to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, of course. They didn’t study hard enough in school. They’re not grinding hard enough at work. They’re not applying for enough jobs.

It’s a bad theology that views poverty as punishment for people who just don’t try hard enough, while exonerating the lawmakers, policy makers, and the oligarchs who’ve purchased those politicians to enrich themselves. It’s a bad theology that views people living in poverty as “parasites,” cursed by God for some good reason, and views the rich and the powerful, the builders of towers and the wielders of weapons, as people who are blessed by God.

Jesus emphatically speaks against this greedy and violent way of seeing the world: “No, I tell you!” And then, with a sense of urgency, Jesus challenges us to do something about it, before this dark and violent worldview is the death of us.

“No, I tell you, but unless you repent you will all perish as they did!”

But there’s a problem when some of us hear this word “repent”, as the word itself has been the victim of bad theology—perhaps with the intention to prevent us from ever fulfilling Jesus’ urgent plea to do something about the culture of greed and violence.

Maybe some of you, like me, were taught like that the word “repent” means to turn away personal sins. Raised as a Baptist, that meant to stop drinking, dancing, smoking, cussing, and having sexy thoughts.

However, when Jesus used the word “repent” to speak of our urgent need to change, he was talking about changing the way we see the world, so we can act to change the world. I believe the apostle Paul understood this when he wrote that in Christ, there is a new creation (2 Cor 5:17). When we follow Jesus, the way we see the entire creation changes. Sadly, that verse is also the victim of bad theology as it is often translated “In Christ, there is a new creature” to keep the focus on personal, individual sin and away from societal, cultural, social, and political sin.

Jesus talked more about our failure to see than he ever talked about private sins. Listen to John recount how Jesus spoke of his purpose in this world: “I came into this world…so that those who do not see may see…” (John 9:39). And throughout the gospels, Jesus continually asks: “Do you have eyes and fail to see?” (Mark 8:18) “Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye?” (Matthew 7:3) “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!” (Luke 10:23) “Prophets and kings desired to see what you see but did not see it!” (Luke 10:24)

Over and over Jesus talked about importance of seeing a world that many people have difficulty seeing.

This is why I believe Jesus called himself the light of the world. For to truly see anything, what do we need? We need light. Thus, he said: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

I believe Jesus called himself the light of the world, because it was his life’s mission to lead us to change the way we see the world so we can change the world, to see the truth of who God has created us to be, of how God has created us to live.

And what is the truth that God wants us to see?

I believe the answer can be found in Jesus’ first recorded sermon which Rev. Dear read a few moments ago.[ii]

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Jesus wants us to see the truth that God blesses the “poor in spirit.” Not the religious, the devout, the pious, or even the spiritual. Not the pastors, the elders, the deacons, not even the church member who serves every week in a soup kitchen. No, God favors the ones who have come to be served in the soup kitchen. They are not the ones with something to give. They are the ones with nothing to give. Jesus says the ones who are blessed, the ones who are favored by God are those who, spiritually speaking, are completely destitute. Their very spirits have been broken. And notice that Jesus uses the present tense. Not will be blessed. Not might be favored. They are, right now, right here, blessed. And their future is the kingdom of heaven. Can you see it?

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

Jesus wants us to see that God favors the mourners. Not only those who may be mourning the death of someone or are grieving over the injustices of the world, but maybe especially those who are mourning over their own lives, those who are wondering if their lives have any value. They remember how their fathers and mothers, their ancestors, were valued by this world. They consider how they are valued by this world. And they look into the eyes of their children and grandchildren, and they grieve. They cry out in the streets for their lives to matter, yet Jesus calls them blessed and promises comfort. Can you see it?

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”

The meek are favored, says Jesus. Not the powerful and violent. Not the ones with the charisma or the confidence, or the physical ability, or the privilege, or an inheritance of wealth, to do whatever is necessary to overcome all sorts of adversity and make it to the top. Jesus says, blessed are the ones who never seem to get ahead. It is the last, says Jesus, not the first, who survive and inherit the earth. Can you see it?

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be filled.”

Not the ones who are righteous, but the ones on whose behalf the prophet Amos preached: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:24). These are the ones who are unjustly judged, mistreated, shunned, scapegoated, and bullied by society, even by communities of faith. They suffer grave injustices simply because of who they are.

They have been beaten up so badly by the world that they hunger and they thirst for justice like a wanderer lost in a hot desert thirsts for water. Jesus says that they are blessed, and they are the ones who will not only be satisfied, but will be filled, their cups overflowing. Can you see it?

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.”

Not the perfect and the proud, the boastful and the arrogant. Not the ones who never admit any mistake. But God favors the ones who are fully aware of their imperfections, the ones who have made mistakes, terrible mistakes, and they know it. Thus, when they encounter others who are also suffering from unthinkable errors in judgment, they have mercy, compassion, empathy, and in their hearts, there is always room for forgiveness. They give mercy, because they need mercy for themselves. And because they are favored by God, they will receive it. Can you see it?

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Not the pure, but the “pure in heart.” Not the ones whose outer appearance and abilities suggest to some that they have the best genes. No, God favors the ones who are viewed by some as flawed. We are reminded of the words of 1 Samuel “for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). God will see the pure beauty of who they truly are, and they will see God. Can you see it?

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Not the ones who have necessarily found peace for themselves. But  blessed are the tormented, the disturbed and the restless, who, because they are so continuously in chaos, seek to make peace whenever and wherever they can. Blessed are those who are without stability, the immigrant and  refugee without a home, but seek it, because they will find a home, a place of security, rest and a peace that is beyond all understanding, within the family of God.[i] Can you see it?

One way to sum up Jesus’ Beatitudes may be: “Blessed are the victims of bad theology.” God is on the side of the  ones violent authoritarians like Pilate victimize and God wants us to see that and then turn the entire culture of greed and violence upside down!

And this, Jesus pronounces, is not a prescription of how things should be or how things could be. Jesus asserts that this is how things are! Can you see it?

If not, then maybe we need some more light! Because if we can’t soon see it, says Jesus, we are all doomed to perish!

I believe this is why Jesus announces: “I have come as light, as the Light of the World, to help you see it, to give all who are blind to it, the sight to see this world as God sees it.” The way of God’s universal, inclusive unconditional love for the entire creation is the only way to never walk in darkness, to never perish, but have the light of life!

And after preaching what we call the Beatitudes, revealing who is truly blessed and favored in by God in this world, Jesus announces to those who want to follow him: You are the lights of the world!  And you must not ever hide your light, shine it privately in a sanctuary or personally at home, but shine your light courageously and publicly on the way things are, so all may begin to see the world the way God sees it.

We are to shine our lights by loving all people, but especially those who are the the victims of bad theology. We are to light it up by loving and doing justice and working to create a world that blesses the least among us: the poor, those who are crying out for their lives to matter, the weak and the underprivileged, those who need mercy, the marginalized who hunger and thirst for justice, the physically maligned but pure in heart, and the spiritually or mentally troubled who yearn for peace.

Will we be despised for it? You bet. Will people say that the way we accept and love and affirm others, the way we speak truth to power, is socially and even theologically unacceptable? Of course. Will we be demeaned and even persecuted by others, even by those in organized religion? Most certainly. Might we get arrested? If we are truly following the way of Jesus, that’s always a possibility!

But here’s the good news:

Jesus also said, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you [notice the change in person] when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

So, while many people, even those who claim to be Christian today, have chosen to live in a dark, violent world, a world where they blindly believe that it is the rich, the prosperous, the privileged and the powerful that are blessed and favored by God, a world that will inevitably bring suffering to all of us, including them, let us commit ourselves to living in the world created by our gracious, loving God, in the world that Jesus, the Light of the World, came to help us see.

And let us, as lights of this world, for the sake of this world, keep lighting this world up, courageously, and publicly until the day comes when the eyes of all are finally fully opened, and there is finally peace on earth.

[i]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victim_blaming#:~:text=Adorno%20defined%20what%20would%20be,features%20of%20the%20Fascist%20character%22.

[ii] Interpretation of the Beatitudes inspired by Frederick Buechner. Whistling in the Dark: An ABC Theologized (New York: Harper Collins, 1988), 18.

We Must

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn LentLeave a comment

Luke 13:31-35 NRSV

It’s one of the greatest sentences Luke attributes to Jesus: “Go and tell that fox for me, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way.” Notice, Jesus didn’t say, he might, he may, or he’ll try. Jesus said, “he must” continue living, loving and serving his way.

I love to read how the forbearers of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) stirred up thousands upon thousands of people in the late 18th and early 19th century. Some estimate that when Barton Stone held his revival at Cane Ridge, Kentucky in 1801, nearly 30,000 people showed up. That’s 10% of the entire population of Kentucky.[i] Can you imagine that?

Today, I believe a good question we should ask ourselves is: What in the world were these folks preaching? How did they start a movement that would later become one of the largest denominations in North America?

I believe they simply had the audacity to fully commit themselves to following the way Jesus lived, loved and served at all costs.

Following Jesus was not something that they did casually, haphazardly, timidly, or reservedly. They followed Jesus passionately and fervently, eagerly, and urgently. And following Jesus was not something that they did privately. They followed Jesus publicly. And they didn’t care who they offended, or if those with political or ecclesial authority opposed them for it.

They unashamedly imitated Jesus who said: “Oh, King Herod, wants to kill me? Well, you tell that fox that I must keep doing the business of the one who sent me.

 I must keep liberating people from demonic evil, systemic, political, cultural, and personal.

You tell Herod I must keep bringing people healing and wholeness today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. And you tell them that I must take this mission all the way to Jerusalem.

That’s right, you tell that fox for me that I must do these things. Not that I might do these things, not that I am going to try to follow this way, but that I must follow this way.”

I believe Barton Stone started a movement by simply putting the word “must” back into a Christianity that had grown apathetic, moderate, and mainstream.

He preached that Christians must put God’s word over the words of the culture, the way of Jesus over the way of the world.

We must denounce all man-made creeds and confessions, and we must commit ourselves to following Jesus at all costs.

“Oh, the presbytery thinks we’re going against the doctrinal grains of the church, do they? Oh, the government thinks we are bucking the unjust political systems, do they? Well, you tell those foxes that we must keep following Jesus today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. We must keep fighting for the inclusion of all at the Lord’s table. We must keep preaching against the demonic evils of slavery, white supremacy, and anything else that does not jive with Jesus! You tell those foxes that we must be on this way.”

I do not believe we can overemphasize how committed our forbearers were to the gospel even when the gospel was directly opposed culture. At Cane Ridge, during a time when Presbyterians believed only like-minded Presbyterians could receive communion, Presbyterian Barton Stone invited an African-American slave, a Baptist pastor, to not only receive communion, but to actually serve communion. And if you asked him why he included this man, I believe he would have simply said, “As a follower of Christ, I must include him.”

And later, when Stone inherited two slaves, he immediately emancipated them. Trouble was that they were living in Kentucky long before the Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation. So, what does Stone do? He tells his family and his two former slaves, “Pack your bags, because we must move to Illinois, because our new friends must be free!”

And thousands of people from all over the then expanding United States responded to Stone by saying, “We must join this movement!” And by 1960, the movement they started exploded into a denomination with 1.6 million members.

Now here’s the troubling news. Today, we have less than 300,000 members, with less than 100,000 who report they attend worship regularly.

There are many complex reasons for this decline. Other so-called “mainline” denominations have experienced similar declines. The rejection of the way of Jesus by many today who call themselves Christians have attributed to much of the decline. The lust for power and cultural dominance is one reason.

This morning, I want to suggest that one of the reasons the many mainline churches seem to have lost its way is that we have removed the word “must” from our vocabulary.

We have lost a holy passion to follow Jesus at all costs.

We have lost a burning drive to place the supreme law of God to love our neighbors as ourselves, like our own flesh and blood, like our own siblings, treating foreigners as if they are native-born, over any other law or executive order.

We have lost a sense of urgency to be a courageous movement for wholeness that boldly speaks truth to power.

Our faith has become more of something that privately changes our souls instead of something that publicly changes the world.

Consequently, our faith intends to mirror the culture instead of transforming the culture. Watered down by peer pressure, greed, and a lust for power, our faith has become mainstream, mainline, and moderate.

In fact, when you look up the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) on Wikipedia, you will discover that we are described as a “mainline denomination in North America.”

Barton Stone would roll over in his grave! For Stone followed a Jesus who was far more upstream than mainstream, more radical than moderate, always swimming against popular currents of culture. He followed a Jesus who must be on a way of selfless, sacrificial, inclusive, liberating love, even it got him to some trouble.

Do you remember the story of twelve-year old Jesus when he did the unthinkable by leaving his parents behind? When his upset parents finally found him in the temple, Jesus asked, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house” (Luke 2:49)?

After healing Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, the crowds used all the peer pressure they could muster to prevent Jesus from leaving them, but he replied, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God in other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose” (Luke 4:43).

Warning the disciples who resisted suffering and persecution, Jesus said: “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised” (Luke 9:22).

When he encountered a man who needed to stop stealing from the poor, Jesus said, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (Luke 19:5).

Right before his arrest on the Mount of Olives Jesus describes his death by saying: “For I tell you, this scripture must be fulfilled in me” (Luke 22:37).

Jesus selflessly and sacrificially travels to Jerusalem, to the city that is known to kill the prophets, and he travels there, not casually, haphazardly, timidly, or reservedly. But with passion. With eagerness. With urgency in his steps, conviction in his heart, and the word “must” on his lips: “You tell that fox that I must be on this way.”

Now, tell me, when it comes to your faith, when is the last time you have ever said aloud or silently: “I must!”

“I must share the liberating love and transforming grace of Christ with someone who needs it today!”

“I must find a way to include and protect these who are being demeaned and dehumanized for being different, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow.”

I must find a way to create a more peaceful and just world, the next day, and the day after.”

“I must feed someone today who is hungry.”

“I must share hope today with someone who can’t any chance that things will ever be better.”

Truthfully, as a pastor, I don’t hear many folks use the word “must” very often in the church. I hear the word “might.” “I might, if nothing else comes up.” “I might, if everything else goes alright this week.” “I’ll check my calendar, and then I might think about it.”

And I often hear the word “try.” “I’ll try to help out, if I don’t have somewhere else to be.”

And I often hear “maybe.” “Maybe I’ll be able to work a little on that project. Maybe I will be able to give some of my time this week.”

And sometimes I hear all three, in the same sentence! “I might try to be more faithful, maybe.”

And I must confess that I am just as guilty.

But think about what kind of church this would be if we all had the same type of urgency and passion as our Lord. “Can you help with our children’s ministry?” “I must help with our children’s ministry!”

“Can you serve on this ministry team?”

“I must serve on it!”

“Can you attend the John Dear workshop on living a non-violent life?” “I must attend!”

“Will you follow Jesus at all costs? Even if it gets you into some trouble?”

“We must!”

The good news is that I believe this urgency and this passion can be as contagious in the twenty-first century as it was in the nineteenth century.

If we decide to be more upstream than mainstream, I believe First Christian Church in Lynchburg and other churches can bring revival to our nation and encourage many others to say with us:

We must join this movement for wholeness in our fragmented world.

We must join this mission to use the gifts God has given us.

We must speak up and stand against racism, xenophobia, transphobia and hate in all its forms.

We must serve and protect the least of these among us and treat the foreigner like our native-born.

We must take a stand for the Word of God, even if it gets us into some trouble.

We must do what we can to transform this this city, our region, and our world with the liberating love of God, even if it goes against the powers-that-be.

We must follow Jesus by loving our neighbors as ourselves, like our own flesh and blood, like our own siblings, even when it is not culturally popular or socially acceptable.

We must do unto others as we would have them do unto us, even if our friends forsake us and our enemies wish to do us harm.

Oh, you say that we might be labeled “enemies of the state?” You say that our loud resistance and public protest might be deemed illegal?

Well, you tell that fox that it is the season of Lent, we are Disciples of Christ, and we must on a way of compassion, mercy, and justice. We must resist hate. We must embrace love. We must pick up our crosses, and we must carry it wherever our Lord leads, no turning back, today, tomorrow and the next day.

[i] Duane Cummins, The Disciples: A Struggle for Reformation (St. Louis: Chalice Press), 2009.

Resisting the Devil

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

Luke 4:1-13 NRSV

If you are like me, you can probably resonate with the Ash Wednesday prayer that was shared this week by Week of Compassion, our denomination’s relief, refugee, and mission agency:

Dear God, we are so weary. Honestly. Just flat worn out. Everything is so much…too much…right now, and there seems to be no end in sight. No end to the worry. No end to the tragedy. No end to the questions. No end to the confusion...

 

Can you relate? I know I can. The good news of our faith is that Jesus also can.

The season of Lent seems to have arrived at the perfect time. In the words sent in an email to encourage pastors this week by Rev. Jim Wallis, the executive director of the Center of Faith and Justice, I believe it is “not accidental, nor coincidental, that this Lenten season comes to us at this moment of history. It is providential.”

Because on this First Sunday of Advent, our gospel lesson reminds us that Jesus understood what it felt like to be “flat worn out” or “depleted.” The word Luke uses is “famished,” as Jesus has been fasting in the wilderness and tempted by the devil.

I know, I know. We don’t talk that much about “the devil” today. And maybe that is part of our problem.

Now, back in the day, my mom had something to say about the devil nearly every day! I probably heard it most often when I was being scolded for some kind of mischievous behavior. I can still hear her say: “Jarrett, the devil’s really gotten into you today!”

As some of you know, I came down with some type of 24-hour bug this past Wednesday night which forced me to miss the Ash Wednesday service. Thankfully, the elders didn’t hesitate to step up and lead what I was told was a beautiful and encouraging service to begin this year’s Lenten. You know what mama might call a fever that prevented me from going to church? “It was the devil.”

And today, if you are invited to mama’s house for dinner don’t expect to be ever serve “deviled eggs.” Not in her house. Oh, she still makes ‘em, but she calls ‘em “angel eggs.” And if I ever slip up and make the observation: “Why mama, these eggs look and taste just like deviled eggs to me!” You know what I’ll hear: “The devil’s gotten into you today, Jarrett!”

And like many teenagers in the 70’s, at least those who grew up Baptist, I got my fill of sermons calling Rock ‘n Roll, “the devil’s music.”

But that’s not the devil that we need to talk about today. That’s not the devil that we need to summon the energy to resist today in our famished, weary, worn-out state.

We need to talk about the devil that is working against us like the force of gravity as we climb together to reach Dr. King’s mountaintop where all people are finally free at last.

We need to talk about how to resist the devil in our nation today that is trying to send us backwards, even knock us off our feet!

We need to talk about how to resist the devil that has pulled many Christians today off and away from the narrow road following Jesus.

We need to talk about the devil that Jesus somehow found the strength to resist even when he felt depleted and powerless.

Let’s look closer at our gospel lesson this morning which comes to us at a most providential time.

First, Jesus resists the devil by refusing to make some bread from the stones that are around him to feed himself. It’s a temptation to follow a way using one’s privilege and power to look after one’s self, to feed one’s self, to put one’s self first, instead of following a way that uses the power and privilege we’ve been given to care for others, to tend to the needs of others, to feed others, even putting the needs of others ahead of our own needs. Jesus resists any movement that suggests that one should put one’s self, or even one’s nation first and any power that believes “empathy is a fundamental weakness of civilization.”[i]

Secondly, Jesus resists the devil by refusing to sell his soul in order to gain political power. Jesus refuses to worship the devil, to join others today who fool-heartedly believe that the end somehow justifies the means, even if those means are the most vile and ugliest of means like: celebrating mass deportations and the separation of families; pardoning men who violently attacked police officers; allowing women to die without access to healthcare and children in other countries to die without food, all the while passionately defending a obvious lies, flagrant greed, unethical behavior, violence against women, and gross immorality coming from the highest seats of public service, sacrificing everything that Jesus taught and stood for on the idolatrous and insidious altar of White Christian Nationalism.

Thirdly, Jesus resists the devil by resisting the enticing promises of protection, comfort, and safety. As is obvious in Luke’s next scene as Jesus is nearly thrown off a cliff for inferring that God loves, and may even favor, those considered to be foreigners, and when later in Luke’s gospel Jesus scolds Peter for drawing his sword to protect Jesus, Jesus refused to succumb to the temptation to follow any path that promised to protect him. Even in a wearied, famished state, Jesus would not fall for any promise of protection by the devil, even from exaggerated or made-up threats like: liberals coming for our guns; refugees coming for our pets; immigrants coming for our jobs; or boys are coming for our daughter’s place on her swim team.

See why the season of Lent has come at a perfect time?

For today, we find ourselves in a wilderness, and like Jesus, we are famished. We wonder how we will ever resist the anti-Christ spirit that so many people today find so attractive. How do we resist the devil when we feel so depleted, defeated, and powerless?

Now, please hear me this morning when I say that the need for resistance today is not a partisan, political issue. It is not a Democrat or Republican issue. It is a gospel issue. Because we’re not talking about a political attack on a political party, we are talking about an anti-Christ attack on the “least of these” whom Jesus has called us to care for, warning us that how we care for them is “the final judgment of the nations.”

So, when we’re talking about resisting the devil, we are not talking about defending a political or partisan agenda. We are taking about defending and caring for the stranger, the sojourner in our midst, the hungry, the homeless, the imprisoned, and the sick, because we believe this is how God judges a nation, and how we can determine if we are on the path of Jesus. We are talking about resisting the devil who is actively tempting us to get off that path. For example— to look the other way as Congress prepares a budget bill that cuts Medicaid, SNAP and other food programs for the almost 50 million hungry people, mostly children and seniors.[i]

But how do we resist the devil when we are so tired? So weary? How do we resist the devil when we feel overwhelmed and distracted by all the lies, chaos, and cruelty that the devil throws our way? How do we resist the devil when are famished?

This is why Rev. Wallis says the season of Lent has arrived at the perfect time.

For today we remember that Jesus was able to resist the devil – how? Look at the very first verse of our gospel lesson. Because he was “full of the Holy Spirit.” And do you remember what had just happened before Jesus was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness”?

In the previous chapter we read: “…and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”

So, what does that mean for us?

I believe Jesus was able to resist the devil, even when he was flat worn out, because of his identity as a beloved son of God. Jesus was able to keep climbing the mountain because he was full of the Holy Spirit. And the good news is because we identify with Jesus and with his baptism, because the Holy Spirit has descended upon us, because we also God’s beloved children, because we are also full of the Holy Spirit, we too, even when we are famished, have all the power we need in the world to resist the devil!

And look again at verse one. Luke tells us that Jesus was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness.” You and I did not just stumble into this wilderness in which we find ourselves today. The Holy Mountain we need to climb today did not just suddenly appear in front of us. The devil standing before us didn’t just arbitrarily show up to stand in our way, tempting us to go another way.

The Holy Spirit has led us to this place of resistance. We are called by God to be here, and we are empowered by the Spirit to resist the devil in our way, to climb the mountain before us, remaining true to the path we are being led by Christ himself to take.

This is our place, our purpose, and our moment to come together as followers of Jesus to embrace this providential Holy Season of Lent praying for the courage show up to advocate for the way of love Jesus taught and embodied.

This is our time to gather in public places to speak out against the idolatry of Christian Nationalism and for liberty and justice for all.

This is our time to resist the power of fascism, the allure of greed, and the appeal of hate, and the charismatic attraction pulling us down a path of self-service, self-indulgence, and self-preservation.

This moment is ours to align our purchases with our purposes by boycotting goods and services from mega corporations today who are bending their knee to the devil.

This is our time to join with people of other faiths, and with people who may not claim a faith but believe in loving our neighbors, especially those Jesus called the least of these, to resist any power which threatens such neighbors.

This is our time to love out loud, to take the church into the streets, so that others might have hope and say of us, “The Holy Spirit has really gotten into them!”

In the words of Rev. Wallis from that email encouraging pastors today: “It’s time to bring our liturgical season of Lent into our historical crisis, right now, and bear the cost of doing so. Lord, have mercy. Amen.”

[i] https://www.cnn.com/2025/03/05/politics/elon-musk-rogan-interview-empathy-doge/index.html

[ii] Sermon inspired from email received from God’s Politics with Jim Wallis, March 6, 2025.

Worst Parade Ever

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment

 John 12:12-15 NRSV

It has been said that “Everybody loves a parade!” I have often thought that this is the reason, in their desire to fill the pews on Sunday morning, churches are tempted act like some type of parade.

You know, like the parades they have down in New Orleans where they throw candy, toys, beads, and all sorts of fun things from the floats that pass by. I have often thought that people go to parades like some people go to church: to get something, to catch something that is thrown their way, something sweet, pleasant, something that is going to make their lives better, make their families stronger, happier.

Then there are other parades. Although no candy is thrown, these parades just have a way of making us feel good. They put us in a good mood. Nothing gets some of us in the Holiday Spirit like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

There are people who go to church to get in a particular mood. They go to hear something that moves them, stirs them. They go to see something that wows them. They go to ooh and ahh. They go to get a good feeling that will hopefully last them the rest of the week.

Then there are military parades. President Trump once said that is what our country needs. They show off a well-trained, well-conditioned army marching in step with tanks and missiles with nuclear warheads to show the world who’s the strongest and the greatest, whose citizens are the safest, most protected, most secure.

Just like some people go to church to get something that makes them feel a little more superior than others, reaffirms their power and privilege. They also go to be protected from all sorts of evil. And they go for some eternal security.

If we pay attention, we discover that each of these parades has the same drumbeat. It is a beat that is easy for us to march to. It is a beat of pleasure, a beat of comfort, a beat of self-preservation, but also self-indulgence and self-aggrandizement. It is a beat of pride, a beat of greed, a beat that entices us.

And, although we know this beat has an innate tendency to be depraved, although we know this beat often stirs the darker, most selfish places within us, we love this beat. Many live by this beat, work by this beat, relate to others by this beat, vote by this beat. We even worship by this beat.

But on this Palm Sunday, we are reminded that there is yet another kind of parade. And it’s a parade that marches to the beat of very different drum.

Nearing the end of his life, Jesus, the savior of the world, paraded into Jerusalem to liberate God’s people, not on some white war stallion, but on a borrowed donkey; not with a well-trained, well-conditioned army, but with a gang of rag-tag students who had no idea what they were doing or where they were going.

The late Henri Nouwen, one of my favorite authors and pastors once said, that to much of the world, this parade looked “downright stupid.”

For Jesus marched to a difficult beat that pushes against the status quo, that pulls us out of our comfort zones, that challenges our instincts.

While others marched to the beat of a self-serving, self-seeking, self-preserving drum, Jesus rode a donkey and marched to the beat of a self-giving, self-denying drum.

As the crowds waved palm branches and shouted “Hosanna! God save us!” Jesus answered their cries by marching to a beat of sacrificial, unconditional love for all people, especially for those considered to be among least. Although he knew he would be killed for it, Jesus kept marching forward with a scandalous, socially acceptable love and an offensive grace.

Yes, bouncing in on the back of a donkey, Jesus marched to the beat of a very different drum.

During Virginia 10-miler in September, I have been told that several of you have made signs to hold up to cheer on the runners who make their way up and down Rivermont and Langhorn. As a runner, I know the type. These signs are often very creative. I have seen signs that say: “You Are Running Better than the Government.” One of my favorite signs that I see people holding in nearly every race reads: “Worst Parade Ever.”

If we are honest, this is our initial reaction to this Palm Sunday parade. The people cry “Hosanna! God save us!” And here comes God, riding in on a donkey!

This is not a parade of pride. It is a parade of humility.

It is not a parade that entertains. It is a parade that suffers.

It is not a parade of pleasure. It is parade of agony.

It is not a parade of self-preservation. It is a parade of self-expenditure.

And although the route of this parade brought Jesus to the capital city, this parade was not good news for the rich and the powerful, the self-important and the self-sufficient.

This parade was good news for the poor, the suffering, the marginal, the prisoners—for all who thirst and hunger justice and compassion.

This march was good news those who had been left out and left behind: For sinners condemned by bad religion; For women, children and minorities silenced by the privileged; For the broken cast aside by society; For all those who are unable to march: the blind, the disabled, the mentally ill, the wounded and the sick. For all who needed salvation.

Maybe the President was partly right. What America needs right now is a good parade.

However, we do not need a parade led by tanks and missiles with nuclear warheads asserting that military might is the answer to our problems.

We need a parade led by one riding a donkey asserting that selfless love is the answer.

We need a parade that emphasizes that what this nation needs is more humility and less arrogance, more respect and less name-calling, more empathy and less callousness, more acts of kindness and less meaness.

We need a parade led by one riding a donkey showcasing not those who sit in the highest seats of power, but school children who just want to be safe, workers who just want a living wage, persons with different abilities who just want to be included, the sick who just want to see a doctor, the poor who just want to eat, the oppressed who just want to be free, refugees who just want to live, immigrants who just want to be seen as human beings rather than animals, and women who just want the government to stay out of their most personal decisions.

We need a parade led by our savior who rides a donkey!

And if we are honest, we would confess that this parade is not always easy for us accept. Notice verse 16: “His disciples did not understand these things…” The truth is: neither can we.

United Methodist Bishop William Willimon writes:

We wanted Jesus to come to town on a warhorse, and Jesus rode in on a donkey. We wanted Jesus to march up to the statehouse and fix the political problem, and Jesus went to the temple to pray. We wanted Jesus to get organized, mobilize his forces, get the revolution going, set things right, and Jesus gathered with his friends in an upper room, broke bread, and drank wine. We wanted Jesus to go head-to-head with the powers-that-be, and Jesus just hung there, on Friday from noon until three, with hardly a word.

Jesus didn’t come fixing all our problems. He didn’t come offering us health and wealth, an easy life or even a better life. He didn’t come showering us with treats to make us feel good. And he didn’t come showing us his power and might. Jesus came riding a donkey.

For God so loved the world that God emptied God’s self. God poured God’s self out and showed us the way to love. God bore our rejection and suffered, even to death on cross. God came to us—not in the way that we wanted—but, the good news is, God came in the way that we need for life—abundant and eternal.

Those great theologians of our time, the Rolling Stones had it right:

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you might just find, you get what you need.

We found the worst parade ever became the best parade ever!

I may want these pews to be full every Sunday morning. However, for us to be the church that God is calling us to be, worship service attendance on Sunday morning will never be as important as how we are worshiping God with our selfless service the rest of the week. How we march through these doors on Sunday morning is not nearly as important as how we are marching outside of these doors on Monday.

To determine if we are being the church God is calling us to be, what we need is a new gauge. We need a new benchmark to determine if we are marching to the beat of a different drum, a new indicator to tell if we are marching in the steps of the One who rides a donkey. For it’s not how many of us are coming to church that is important to this One. It’s what we are doing in the world to be the church.

Purchasing summer learning kits for to prepare underprivileged children for kindergarten is a sign that we are marching in the steps of the one who rides a donkey.

Building a community pantry and serving a meal at a local mission to feed people who are food-insecure is evidence that we are marching in the steps of the one who rides a donkey.

Worshipping with a Jewish synagogue to take a stand together against racism and hate demonstrates that we are marching in the steps of the one who rides a donkey.

Selflessly giving our time, our resources, and ourselves marching in a Christmas parade to advocate for inclusion, marching to the capital to cry out against injustice, violence and corruption, to speak up for the care of God’s creation; marching down the road to extend mercy to someone who is broken; marching across a room to perform a small act of kindness to a stranger, marching out in the darkness to be a friend to someone who is afraid, marching everywhere we go to love all of our neighbors as we love ourselves—

These are the markers that we are the church God is calling us to be.

May God give us the grace and the strength to keep marching forward to the beat of a different drum, to keep following in the steps of the One who rides a donkey; to keep marching a march of suffering, but also a march of joy; a march of sacrifice, but also a march of hope; a march to lose our lives, but also a march to save our lives.

At the Table with Jesus

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment

John 12:1-8 NRSV

Every service of worship should begin with a warning.  Instead of a welcome and a few announcements, I believe the congregation needs to be forewarned, put on alert, and advised to proceed with caution.

Because every time we gather around a table that we say doesn’t belong to us but belongs to Jesus and partake in something we call “the Lord’s Supper” things are likely to get a little crazy! Things are bound to happen that surprise, even shock us. Things can mysteriously break out, break open, shift, and spill out. Because, here, at this table with Jesus, things are not always as we expect them to be, nor even as they appear to be.

To illustrate what I am trying to say, allow me to share a story.

Jesus is nearing the end of his ministry. There’s always been opposition to his radical way of love and the way it turned everything upside down. The first are last, and the last are first. The poor are blessed, and the rich are sent away empty. But now there is a sense that things are coming to a head. The enemies of Jesus, the religious leaders who profited from the status quo, those for whom life holds no mystery, those who have been lurking in the shadows plotting against him, are now ready to finally entrap him.

But before Jesus takes his disciples on that fateful journey into Jerusalem, he gathers for supper with his most faithful disciples, Mary and Martha, and oh-my-word, what a supper that was!

John opens the story by saying, “Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.”

Now, can you imagine standing behind your chair at the table getting ready to pull it out and sit down when someone introduces you to the one standing at the head of the table by saying, “You know our host, Mr. Lazarus, don’t you?  Yeah, we didn’t know he was going to be able to host our gathering today, because a couple of weeks ago he became very ill.  And about a week ago, he was dead and buried.”

As you pull out your chair to sit down at the table, you’re thinking: “This is going to be one crazy supper!”

Well, not long after the wine is poured, Mary starts acting as if she has already had too much wine as she lets down her hair right there at the dinner table!  Then she shocks everyone, when takes a bottle of very expensive perfume, gets down on her knees under the table, and begins anointing the feet of Jesus! Pouring the perfume all over his feet and wiping his feet with her hair! The fragrance, almost overbearing, fills the entire house. Perfume and hair everywhere!  At the supper table!

John mentions only one other guest at the table that evening. He is the disciple whose reputation precedes him: Judas Iscariot—The very disciple who will betray Jesus. Now, let me ask you this, can this supper get any more crazy?

Shaking his head at Mary making a spectacle of herself under the table, Judas, being the good, committed liberal that he is, asks a great ethical question: “Why wasn’t this expensive perfume sold and the money given to the poor rather than wasting it by pouring it all over Jesus’ feet?”

It is rather shocking that it comes from Judas, for it’s the type of question that one can easily imagine the Jesus asking.

Well, surprise, surprise, Judas! You have been paying attention! You didn’t sleep through all of Jesus’ sermons! Way to go, Judas!”

But then, just when you thought things could not become more crazy, comes an even bigger surprise in the way Jesus responds: “The poor you will have with you always, but you will not always have me.”   Whaat? Why would Jesus say something like that?

But then we begin to get it. When Jesus first mentioned burial, we thought he was talking about Lazarus. But this is not about Lazarus. And this is not about the poor. This is about what is going to take place in Jerusalem during the next couple of weeks.

What should be a happy gathering of good friends enjoying a lovely supper is a prelude to the crucifixion. Jesus is at the table with both friends and betrayer. Sweet smelling perfume is not the only thing in the air. Disloyalty, disappointment, and death are also in the air. But so is unconditional love, extravagant grace and love poured out.

What a supper this has turned out to be! So much more going on beyond the senses.

This is how it always is with Jesus. When we choose to follow Jesus, to eat and drink with Jesus and choose to include those with whom he ate and drank, we can expect that there is always more meaning beyond the moment, more reality beyond the senses. The truth is that this very morning, here in this place, there is more going on than we can possibly imagine. There is more happening here than the saying of a few prayers, the singing of few hymns, the tasting of a little bread and the sipping of a little juice.

Because, in this place the Holy One is mysteriously, yet certainly present, communing with us, giving the Divine Self to us, revealing the Divine Self for us. And as flawed, fragmented human beings, we can count on being surprised and even shocked by the revelation.

So, this morning, I am asking you to hold on to the pews, for anytime Christ comes among us things are liable to break out, break open, change, shift and spill out.

You might have thought you were going to come to this place to see a few friends, but before you leave this place, you may be shocked to discover that you have seen Jesus here.

Soon after Jesus arrives in Jerusalem, John says that some Greeks come to Philip and said, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

Philip went and told Andrew; then they both went and told Jesus. And listen to how Jesus answers them: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”

Jesus seems to be saying: “They want to see me? Then tell them they must be willing to die to themselves, break their bodies, pour themselves out. Turn the world upside down. Follow me by humbly being a servant to the least of these among us. And it is there, perhaps in the least likely place, and among the least likely people, in the least likely of ways, there they will see me.”

Henri Nouwen was a gifted Catholic priest and brilliant teacher who taught at prestigious universities like Harvard and Yale. He was a renowned author and sought-after speaker. However, answering a call to follow Jesus, he left the Ivy League to spend the last decade of his life serving as a chaplain within a community of people with severe emotional, mental, and physical disabilities.

In one of his many books, Nouwen tells a story about Trevor, a man in that community who was dealing with such severe mental and emotional challenges that he had to be sent to a psychiatric unit at a large hospital for an evaluation. One day Henri wanted to visit him, so he called the hospital and arranged for a visit.

When the administrators at the hospital received word that Henri Nouwen, the renowned author and teacher from Yale and Harvard would be coming, they reached out to him and asked if they might have lunch with him in the Golden Room—the most elegant meeting room in the hospital. They would also invite doctors and other clergy to the special luncheon. Nouwen agreed.

As soon as he arrived at the hospital, someone was there to meet him to take him to the Golden Room. When he got to the room, Trevor was nowhere to be seen. Troubled, he asked about Trevor’s whereabouts.

“Oh,” said an administrator, “Trevor cannot join us for lunch. Patients and staff are not allowed to have lunch together. Besides, no patient has ever had lunch in the Golden Room.”

By nature, Henri was not a confrontational person. But perhaps guided by the Spirit, this crazy thought that came to his mind: “Include Trevor.” “Trevor ought to be here.”  So, Henri swallowed hard, turned to the administrator, and said, “But the whole purpose of my coming here was to visit with Trevor. So, if Trevor is not allowed to attend the lunch, I will not be able to attend.”

Well, the administrators couldn’t imagine missing an opportunity for lunch with the great Henri Nouwen, so they quickly found a way for Trevor to attend.

And this is when, like hair and perfume everywhere, things around the table. At one point during the lunch, Henri was talking to the person to his right and didn’t notice that Trevor, seated at his left, had stood up and lifted his glass of Dr. Pepper.

“A toast. I will now offer a toast,” Trevor said to the group.

Everybody in the room tensed up. What in the world was Trevor going to say?

Then Trevor, this deeply challenged man in a room full of PhDs and esteemed clergy, started to sing, “If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass. If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass…”

 No one knew what to do. It was awkward. Here was a man with a level of challenge and brokenness they could not begin to understand, yet he was beaming. Although most everyone one in the room was apprehensive about him being there, he was absolutely thrilled to be there. So, they started to sing. Softly at first, but then louder and louder until all the doctors and clergy and Henri Nouwen were practically shouting, “If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass.”

Henri went on to give a brief lecture at the luncheon, but the moment everyone remembered, the moment everyone saw Jesus the most clearly and heard the word of God the most profoundly, happened through the person they all would have said was the least likely at the table to emulate Jesus.[i]

When we gather at the table with Jesus, things are not always what we expect them to be, nor are they what they appear to be. Like perfume and hair everywhere, the Holy Spirit of God is breaking out, breaking open, and spilling out.

You thought that you had things all figured out, that you knew what was going on and what was not going on in this world, only to discover that you do not have a clue.

This morning, you thought you were going to go to church, go through the motions and go back home unchanged, but to your startling surprise it has been revealed that you have been summoned, you have been called to do something that is bigger than you and to go on a journey that is far from home.

And here is the real shock, saying yes to this summons to die to yourself, to leave a place of comfort and security, you have never felt more alive, more you, and more at home.

[i] John Ortberg, in the sermon, “Guide.” Preachingtoday.com.

The Good Snake

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment
Art by Carrie Knutsen

John 3:14-21 NRSV

It’s funny how I still have the same recurring nightmares that I had as a child.

Going to school and suddenly realizing that I forgot to dress myself that morning.

Being chased in the darkness by a gang of clowns that included Bozo, the Town Clown from Captain Kangaroo and Ronald McDonald.

But perhaps my most frightening recurring nightmare is the one where, I suddenly find myself standing in my front yard that is crawling with snakes. I can’t take on step without stepping on a slithering serpent.

Our deep fear of snakes makes even more strange the reference that Jesus makes to an obscure story in the book of Numbers.

 “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up that whosever believes in him might have eternal life.”

 This reminds me of the Sumerian God of Healing who walked around with two intertwined snakes upon his staff, which was later adopted as the symbol for the American Medical Association.

It’s a strange image of healing, isn’t it? Two snakes on a staff. Something frightening and threatening as a symbol for healing and wholeness.

But anyone who has ever experienced surgery and has listened to the doctor discuss the risks involved, knows that if we want to be healed, sometimes we must take a risk. If we want to be made whole, sometimes our lives must be threatened.

Yet, we are often startled or frightened by any sight of a snake. And if we dream of snakes most of us would call that dream a nightmare.

 The story in the book of Numbers begins as the starving Israelites desperately cry out to God for help. God hears their prayers and sends manna from heaven. At first, they were grateful, but after eating the manna day after day after day after day, they are fed up with it, literally and figuratively. So, in a spirit of selfish ungratefulness, they begin to complain God.

 It is then that these “fiery” serpents show up.

 One of my favorite preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor, points out that the Hebrew word for “fiery” is Seraph. She says that it is a word that is used to describe how your ankle feels when it is bitten by a poisonous snake: “fiery.” The serpents who bit the Hebrews for their ungratefulness were called Seraphs. Does that sound familiar? It is also the Hebrew name for angels.

In Isaiah 6, we are told that Seraphs or Seraphim surrounded the throne of God, protecting God. And here in Numbers, these, fiery, frightening Seraphs, these slithering serpents show up to frighten, hurt, but to ultimately save the people.

One could say that these fiery angelic serpents come to strike the people back into their senses. Being brought close to death, they remember how precious life is. They apologize to Moses, admitting how selfish and ungrateful they had become.

“Please, Moses, ask God to call back the snakes!” they pleaded.

However, God doesn’t remove the evil from their midst. Instead, God says to Moses: “take a brass serpent, put it on a pole, and make the people look at it.” So that in the future, when self-centeredness and ungratefulness overtake them, they will look at the snake, the symbol of their sinfulness upon the pole, and be saved.

Moses makes a replica of the outcome of the sin of the people and lifts it up onto a pole, makes them look at it, and there, they are able to see that the Seraph of death has become the Seraph of life.

In looking at the truth of who they were, no matter how painful and fiery that truth was—they receive salvation.

And now John says that Jesus uses this serpent on a pole to describe himself.

In a conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus uses the image of a snake on a pole as a parable of what he was doing to save the world.  Thus, one could say that the Gospel of John refers to Jesus, not only as “the Good Shepherd,” but also as “the Good Snake.”

 Jesus surprised us when he came to dwell among us, slithering into our darkness, our sinfulness. He opened his mouth and spoke prophetic words that cut us like a sword.

His teachings to love all people unconditionally, including our enemies, to sell our possessions and give them to the poor, to humble ourselves by taking the lowest seat at the table, to turn the other cheek, to forgive seventy times seven, to walk the extra mile, to regard women and children with equality, to welcome the foreigner, to do justice on the behalf of the marginalized, to defend the sinner, to see God in the least of those among us, to deny ourselves, lose ourselves and take up a cross, felt like a fiery poison coursing through our veins as it made us realize that we have a propensity to love the darkness more than the light.

 So, we had him arrested, and when Pilate asked us to choose between an insurrectionist and Jesus, we chose the criminal. We tortured him and lifted him high on a pole. And while he was lifted up, his prophetic venomous words calling us to deny ourselves and take up our own crosses, somehow, some way became words of life.

And standing at the foot of this pole, all who, even today, hear him cry out, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” are able to look up and say, “Truly, this was the Son of God.”

 When we dare to look intently at our Good Snake hanging on the cross, we begin to realize that on that cross hangs our refusal to follow his way of love, grace and justice, our choice to feed ourselves rather than feed hungry, look after ourselves rather than heal the sick, love ourselves, rather than love our enemies, and stand up for the rich, privileged and powerful rather than for those considered to be the least. We realize that on that cross hangs our pride, tribalism, hate, and bigotry. We realize that it was none other than our sin that put Jesus on the cross.

         And it is in looking intently at the snake on the pole, we find our salvation. It is in looking at our propensity for evil in this world that saves us and enables us to build God’s kingdom of love, grace, and justice in this world.

This why we need to take notice when others try to prevent us from looking at our sins, acknowledging our evil past, and studying our blighted history. We need to wake up and pay attention when someone repeats a lie to re-write history constantly spouting misinformation such as: “The United States was founded as a Christian nation,” “the Civil War wasn’t over slavery,” “some slaves had it pretty good,” “the holocaust never happened,” or the January 6 insurrectionists were “ordinary tourists.” And we also need to take note how the cross on which Jesus was crucified by an always unholy marriage of religion and state has been made into an adored ornament, and how the cause of Jesus’ death is most often attributed to God’s love instead of the rejection of God’s love by sinful humanity.

There are forces in our world today that want us to forget our sinful history, because they know in the words of George Orwell, that “the most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.” But it is in remembering and studying the truth of our history, no matter how bad that truth hurts, even if it stings like fiery venom in our veins, that we become better, more loving, more gracious, more just, more like the D\disciples we are called to be.

There’s a reason that the Civil Rights movement was emboldened after Mamie Till, the mother of Emmett Till, forced us to look at the snake by declining an offer from the mortician to “touch up” her son’s body and opting for an open casket funeral, saying: “I think everybody needed to know what had happened to Emmett Till.”

Perhaps she knew that when we look intently at the snake, an outbreak of the Kingdom God can happen.

And as people who understand that it was our sins that put Jesus on the cross, we should always do everything we can to help others look at the snakes in our midst today: the bodies of school children riddled with bullets from a mass shooter; the bloodied face of a gay child beat by bullies in a middle school restroom; the malnourished, starved corpses of Palestinian children victimized by a war that needs to end. Because when we look intently at the snake, we find the courage to say: “enough is enough is enough already!”

In planning the annual Yom Ha Shoah Holocaust Remembrance service this week with Rabbi Harley and other clergy, we read together the following words written by Rev. Terry Dickinson which underscore our necessity to remember, to never forget, to always look intently at the snake, because if we are honest, we would rather look the other way and pretend it never happened:

I’d rather pretend it never happened.
I’d rather believe that the sky was never blackened by the smoke of human death, that children and mothers and innocent men
were never victims of such a magnitude of hate.

I’d rather pretend it never happened, but if I have to remember,
if I must look into this gaping scar of human ignorance,
I want to believe that it could only happen once in the history of this universe. Yet, history has a terrible way of echoing in the stone-hard canyons of bigotry, repeating itself again and again.

I’d rather pretend it never happened, for in remembering,
the world seems a frightening place,
where we cannot celebrate, but would rather exterminate our differences and merge into one large mass of sameness.

I’d rather pretend it never happened and believe that it could never happen again. Yet, I know that as long as I look upon even one other person
with seeds of hate, and fail to see him as my brother,
or her as my sister, or them as my family,

then my own precious soul is fertile ground
for these seeds to sprout yet another Holocaust.[i]

Let us look intently at the snake. Look at him, lifted up, crucified. Listen to his words of mercy, love and grace. For if we can keep our eyes on the snake upon the pole, one day, love will finally win, the kingdom will finally come, and the only place on earth we will be frightened is in the deep recesses of our darkest nightmares.

[i] By Rev. Terry Dickinson (1997, Christway Unity Church, Hot Springs, AR)

Righteous Rage

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year BLeave a comment
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John 2:13-22 NRSV

Psychologists have identified four stages of anger.[i] The first stage is when we are “annoyed.” Studies have shown that most people become annoyed a few times per day when someone or some situation becomes bothersome or irritating to us.

I am sure Jesus was annoyed as often as we are, if not more often. I believe we can read one example in Mark, chapter 2, when Jesus enters the synagogue on a sabbath and encounters a man with a withered hand. Although the Pharisees believed it was unlawful to heal on the sabbath, Jesus compassionately heals the man and then looks at the Pharisees “with anger” says Mark; for he was “grieved,” or I believe one could say, “he was very annoyed,” by their “hardness of heart.”

When we are annoyed and feel our stress levels begin to rise, we’ve moved into the second stage of anger: “frustration.” In this stage, we’re still able to think rationally, but because of our dissatisfaction with what’s happening, it might not be as easy to stay calm and clearheaded.

 A few weeks ago, we read an account of Jesus being frustrated when he encounters a leper, and according to Mark, is “moved with pity.” I pointed out that scholars agree that the Greek text is best translated, “moved with anger,” and I said it was not so much the disease of leprosy that angered or frustrated Jesus, but it was what the disease did to a person socially, excluding them from community.

The third stage of anger is “hostility.” We get to this stage when there’s been a large build-up of stress, pain, or anxiety. Things become so frustrating, we find it difficult to stay calm or to speak politely.  Have you ever heard the saying: “That’s enough to make a preacher cuss?” I could tell you some stories, but this is not the time nor the place. Maybe down in the fellowship hall Wednesday night, or better yet, downtown at the brewery Thursday evening. An example of Jesus becoming hostile may be last week’s gospel lesson when Jesus, calls Peter “Satan.”

Then we have the fourth stage: rage. This is the stage where we lose control. We lash out physically, like throwing an object, like silver coins, or turning over a piece of furniture, like a table in the temple, or we may threaten violence, like making a whip of cords and chasing everyone out of the room, even the sheep and the cattle.

 I don’t believe there’s better example of Jesus demonstrating rage than this temple scene in today’s gospel lesson. And a good question for those of us who are seeking to emulate Jesus is: What moved Jesus from simply being annoyed to a fit of rage?

To interpret this text, it is important to note why this is our lectionary text in the season of Lent. Our text begins: “The Passover of the Jews was near.” To commemorate the story of the Israelites’ protection from the Angel of Death and their Exodus from Egyptian slavery, Jewish people were coming from all over to purchase animals in the temple to make religious sacrifices to God so they could get right with God, experience some love and favor from God. To get right with God, people with means had enough money to purchase cattle or sheep, whereas people who were poor scaped up the little money they had and settled for the doves.

That the religious leaders were making a profit by leading people to believe they could not experience Divine favor unless certain conditions were met, enraged Jesus so that he made a whip and chased them out of the temple, pouring out their coins and turning over their tables, while specifically instructing those who were selling doves to the poor, “Take these things out of here!”

The Jews, who are now unable to purchase sacrifices to observe Passover, become fearful that they would be unable to get right with God. So, they confront Jesus: “You better be able to come up with a pretty good sign to prove to us that we don’t need to make sacrifices to experience God’s love!”

And it is then that Jesus responds, “Destroy this temple, and in three days, I will raise it up.” John tells us that Jesus was speaking not of the building in which they stood, but the temple of his own body.

I believe John is emphasizing that in the incarnation of Jesus, the good news of God’s unconditional love is enfleshed or embodied. In the words of Revelation 21, “God’s dwelling place is now among the people” with Jesus modeling the way.

This should not lead anyone to believe that the presence of God has departed from the Jewish faith or that Christianity supersedes any other religious tradition. Rather, from a Christian perspective, the good news that every person is loved by God just as they are, is enfleshed in anyone who follows the way of love that Jesus embodied.

Mahatma Gandhi was annoyed and frustrated when he famously said:

I like your Christ, but I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.

This, of course, is the main problem of the church today. While there are many faith communities loving others selflessly and unconditionally, too many Christians have succumbed to their thirst for power and control.

Today, this is demonstrated whenever the church seems more concerned about the survival of the institution than the needs of people; whenever service in the community is performed in hope of gaining new members, rather than out of compassionate concern for neighbors in need; and whenever gatekeepers are appointed to determine who belongs in the family of God and the hoops through one must jump to be in community.

Instead of embodying the good news of God’s love for all people through acts of grace and mercy, the church today looks more like a set of rules designed by the powerful and the privileged to keep people in line and the marginalized in their place.

Christianity looks like a religion based more on nationalism than on following the way of love that Jesus modeled. It looks like a religion built on guilt, obligation, and fear, a religion whose purpose is to keep people out of an eternal hell while ignoring the hell humanity has created in God’s good creation.[ii]

A religion. This is what really enraged Jesus, that people took something as pure and wonderful and holy as the unconditional love of God and made it into a religion.

While I was pastoring a church right out of seminary back in 1993, a deacon in our church asked me where I saw myself in twenty-five years. I told him that I believed that I would still be pastoring a church somewhere.

He laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”   I asked.

“I see you more as the type who might be teaching in some college somewhere or directing a non-profit. I don’t think you are going to be a pastor.”

“Why do you say that?”

He said, “For one thing, pastors are generally religious people. And you, my friend, are not very religious!”

What this deacon failed to realize was that the church is not a religious organization. And the last thing a Christian pastor should be is religious.

Let me share with you what I think is a good definition of religion.  It comes from the late Episcopal Priest Robert Capon: “Religion is the attempt by human beings to establish a right relationship between themselves and something beyond themselves which they think to be of life-giving significance.”

This is what enraged Jesus so, that people have been made to feel that they must be religious, jump through some religious hoops, to get right with God. They believe if they make the right sacrifice, say the right prayers, believe in the right creed, behave the right way, avoid the right sins, then they can earn some Divine favor.

This is why we call the unconditional love of God Jesus taught and embodied “the gospel.” This is why we call it good news. If we called it religion, it would be bad news. Religion would mean that there was still some secret to be unlocked, some ritual to be gotten right, some law to obey, some theology to grasp, or some little sin to be purged.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We don’t need religion, but I believe we still need church. However, we do not need church to get right with God. We need church to discover ways we can get right with our neighbor. We need church to discover ways we can get right with the planet. Because what this world needs more than anything else today is not more religious people who believe they possess the keys to salvation, but more people to come together to love their neighbors, their communities, their cities, the entire creation, with the unconditional, unreserved, unbounded love of God that Jesus embodied.

Or maybe, in the words of Ziggy Marley, we need more people who simply make love their religion. Not for the sake of getting right with God, but for the sake of love and only love.

Because when love, just love, is our religion, we are free to volunteer at Park View Mission and truly love our neighbors purely, unconditionally, authentically, without any thought of persuading them to worship or believe like us.

When love is our religion, we are free to serve selflessly and sacrificially in our community without any temptation to ever say anything like: “Look at us. Look how good we are. Don’t you want to join our church?”

When love is our religion, we are free to purchase learning kits to help children living in poverty prepare for kindergarten with no strings attached, with no hidden agenda whatsoever, just love.

When love is our religion, we are free to pray earnestly for Palestinians in Gaza, give to organizations like Week of Compassion to support humanitarian aid for those who are suffering with no other intention but to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

When love is our religion (just love, for the sake of love), when we love freely, unconditionally, unreservedly, fully, and purely, I believe we look like the enfleshed presence of God in the world.

And that, I believe, is what makes Jesus very happy.

And that, I believe, is what makes Jesus very happy.

[i] https://reallifecounseling.us/blog/stages-of-anger

[ii] https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/sermon-seeds-transactionalism/

Ashamed of the Gospel

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment

Mark 8:31-38 NRSV

I believe the church needs to re-discover its mission to be the church, to be the body of Christ, to be the very embodiment of Christ in this world. We are to continue his ministry in this world, doing the very same things that he did while he was on this earth: feeding the hungry, healing to the sick, sheltering the homeless, liberating the oppressed, elevating the rights of women, defending those judged by religious hypocrites, siding with the marginalized and speaking truth to power.

Now, there may be some who are thinking: “I just don’t know if I am ready to make such a commitment. I think I will stick to just going to church for now, and maybe I can be the church another time!”

 “After all, I have some things that I need to work out first in my life. My faith needs some work. I have my doubts. I have some questions. I have so much to learn, so much to figure out. And I have some very personal issues to deal with. I have this problem with anger. Sometimes I act or say before I think. So right now, if you don’t mind, until I can get my act more together, learn a little more, I think I will pass on this following Jesus thing. I have enough trouble these days just believing Jesus.”

Well, here’s my response to that: “Have you ever met Peter?”

You know, Saint Peter. The one Jesus called a “rock” and said, “on this rock, I will build my church.” The one Roman Catholics recognize as the first Pope. Perhaps you’ve heard of St. Peter’s Square, St. Peter’s Cathedral, and St. Peter’s Basilica. Peter: the one whom Jesus loved and trusted to carry on his ministry in this world.

You may think, there’s no way I can be like Saint Peter. Well, let me tell you a little more about this Peter fella.

One day, he is out on boat with the other disciples. It is the middle of the night, and there’s this big storm. The wind is howling. The waves are crashing against and into the boat. And as you could imagine, they were all scared to death. But then, Jesus comes to them, walking on the water, saying to them to have courage and to fear not.

But Peter…Peter has some doubts. Peter has some questions. Peter needs to work some things out: “Lord, if it is really you, then command me to come out on the water.” And Jesus responds, “Peter, you of little faith.”

Later, Jesus is instructing Peter about discipleship. Jesus talks about being humble, lowering one’s self, even pouring one’s self out. Jesus talks about selfless, self-expending, sacrificial love, being with and for the least of these.

But Peter…Peter has some issues. Peter has some things to learn. Peter gets into an argument with the other disciples about which one of them was the greatest.

After Jesus prays in the garden, surrendering himself to the will of God, Jesus does not resist arrest. Jesus practices what he teaches and turns the other cheek.

But Peter…Peter loses it. Peter acts before he thinks. In a fit of anger, Peter fights back. Peter draws his sword and begins swinging it at Jesus’ captors, cutting off the ear of one.

And in our text this morning, Jesus foretells that garden event. He talks about being rejected by organized religion. Jesus is essentially saying:

“When you preach the word of God that cuts like a sword; when you love all people and try to teach others to love all people; when you preach a grace that is extravagant and a love that is unconditional; when you talk about the need to make room at the table for all people; when you stand up for the rights of the poor and the marginalized; when you proclaim liberty to the oppressed and say that their lives matter; when you defend, forgive and friend sinners caught in the very act of sinning; when you tell lovers of money to sell their possessions and give the money to the poor; when you command a culture of war to be peacemakers; when you tell the powerful to turn the other cheek; when you call religious leaders hypocrites and point out their hypocrisy; when you criticize their faith without works, their theology without practice, and their tithing without justice; when you refuse to tolerate intolerance; when you do these things that I do,” says Jesus, “then the self-righteous-powers-that-be will rise up, and they will hate. They will come against you with all that they have, and they will come against you in name of God. They will do anything and everything that is in their power to stop you, even if it means killing you.”

But Peter…Peter has some serious issues with that. Peter says to Jesus: “No way! Stop talking like that. This is not right. You are crazy. We will not let this happen!”

Then, having had about all that he could stand of Peter and his nonsense and excuses: his doubts, his questioning, his anger, his lack of faith, his personal issues, all the mess that he needs to work out, Jesus responds to Peter with some of the harshest words ever recorded by Jesus: “Get behind me, Satan.”

Jesus, calls Peter, “Satan.”

And yet, that did not stop Jesus from loving Peter, from using Peter. Jesus kept teaching Peter, kept calling Peter, and kept leading Peter to do his work in the world. In fact, that did not stop Jesus from calling Peter to start his church in the world.

So, if you do not feel like you can follow Jesus, and if your excuses are: that you have doubts; or you have questions; or you are just not ready; or you have some issues to work out; or even have days you feel unworthy, even have days you know you resemble Satan more than God; then you are going to have to come up with some better excuses, because as Peter teaches us: with Jesus, those excuses simply don’t fly!

So, what is it that is really keeping so many today who call themselves Christian from actually following Jesus?

After Jesus is arrested, Peter goes into the courtyard of the High Priest. It is a cold night, so he gathers with some folks who had started a fire to warm themselves. A servant girl begins staring at Peter and says: “This man was with Jesus. He traveled around with him doing the things that Jesus did, saying the things that Jesus said.” But Peter denied it, saying, “Woman, I do not even know this Jesus.”

A little later, another saw him and said: “You are a disciple, a disciple of Jesus who defended, forgave and friended sinners. You welcomed strangers, visited prisoners, clothed the naked, gave water to the thirsty, and fed the hungry. You restored lepers, elevated the status of women, gave dignity to Eunuchs, and offered community to lepers. But, again, Peter denied it.

About an hour had passed and another man began to insist saying: “Certainly this man was with Him, for he is a Galilean too. You called out hypocrisy on the behalf of widows. You challenged the status quo on the behalf of the sick. You disobeyed the laws of God on the behalf of the suffering.” But Peter said, “Man, I do not know what you are talking about!”

Peter’s denials had nothing to do with his lack of faith. His denials, his refusal to take up his cross, his failure to follow in the selfless, sacrificial way of Jesus had nothing to do with his doubts and his questions, his personal issues and poor anger management because, as Jesus pointed out over and over, those excuses simply don’t cut it. Peter’s failure was shame.

Peter had trouble following Jesus because he was ashamed of the gospel.  He was ashamed of what the gospel stood for and for whom the gospel stood.

Which raises the question: “Could this be the reason why so many churches today are failing miserably in answering the call to follow the way of love that Jesus taught his disciples?”

Peter was ashamed to love, because living among voices clamoring to take their country back, it was more popular to hate.

Peter was ashamed to identify with the least because it was more popular to identify with the greatest.

Peter was ashamed to defend and forgive sinners because it was more popular to throw rocks.

Peter was ashamed to welcome and elevate little children because it was more popular to send them away.

Peter was ashamed to be last because it was more popular to be first.

Peter was ashamed to tell the truth because it was more popular to embrace a lie.

Peter was ashamed to embrace a way of humility because it was more popular to be arrogant, proud, condescending, and self-important.

Peter was ashamed to share his wealth because it was more popular to hold on to it.

Peter was ashamed to side with the poor, because it was more popular to call them “lazy.”

Peter was ashamed to include foreigners, because it was more popular to dehumanize them by calling them “aliens.”

Peter was ashamed to visit prisoners because it was popular to treat them as animals.

Peter was ashamed to stand up for the marginalized because it was more popular to call them “abominations.”

Peter was ashamed to respect the basic rights of women, because it was more popular to subjugate them.

Peter was ashamed to turn the other cheek because it was more popular to draw a sword.

Peter was ashamed to pick up and carry a cross, because it was more popular to pick up and carry a weapon of war.

And Jesus said: “Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

So, are we ready to follow Jesus? Are we ready to give sacrificially and serve graciously? If not, what’s our excuse? We must remember, with Jesus, a lack of faith, having a lot of questions and some serious issues, or not having ourselves together are no excuses at all!

Could it be that much of what is wrong with the church today is shame? Christians are ashamed of the gospel, what the gospel stands for and for whom it stands. Maybe it is due to peer pressure from family or friends, or to fear of losing some political or societal clout. The truth is there are too many who claim to follow Jesus who are ashamed to stand on the side of children like Nex Benedict and ashamed to stand against popular voices of hate like Moms for Liberty and other MAGA Christian Nationalists.

The good news is that Peter dealt with his shame. Peter repented, and this one Jesus called “Satan,” helped start the church and has been named by the Church as its first Pope.

And the good news for the church this morning is that there’s still a little time to deal with its shame.