Christmas in the Boondocks

On December 8, 2024December 8, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Sermons Year C1 Comment

As a preacher, I often wonder about this thing we call a sermon. Like, why do we do it? Why do preachers prepare and deliver them, and why do you sit and listen to it?

I tend to believe that you are here for the sermon because need a little encouragement. In a world that can be dark and despairing, you need to hear a word of light and hope. In a world that can be sad and chaotic, you need to hear a word of joy and peace.

On top of all the problems in the world, war in Ukraine and in the Middle East, the acceptance of fascism throughout the world, including in our own country, you have all kinds of stress in your life. Some of your children are not doing as well as you would like. Some of you are having a difficult time taking care of aging parents. And some of you have your own health worries. Some of you are still dealing with grief over the loss of a loved one. And you are still struggling with forgiving that friend who let you down or loving a neighbor who betrayed you. So, you come to this place every to sit in a pew to get a little inspiration, to find a little peace.

So, I, along with hundreds of other moderate, educated, mainline preachers in our pretty, city pulpits, seek to give you a dose of what we think you want on Sunday mornings. Instead of saying anything that might add to the stress in your life, we try to say something to fill you with such peace, that when the time in the service comes when we pass the peace, you actually have something to pass. During the sermon, we seek to metaphorically pat you on the back on Sunday mornings assuring you that everything is going to be alright.

I am very tempted this morning to talk about my new granddaughter and how the birth of a little baby can change our world; then somehow compare that to the birth of Jesus peaching a soft, sweet, sentimental sermon of comfort and peace.

But then I encounter a text like this morning’s gospel lesson and read the account of a preacher who doesn’t remind us of any grandfather we know whose heart has been softened by the birth of a baby. His name is John, and he’s also a far cry any educated, moderate, mainline preacher in a pretty, city pulpit. He’s a harsh man with a harsh voice crying out in the boondocks far from the lights of the city.

No one ever called John “moderate.” And no one ever called him “mainline.” And there was seemingly nothing peaceful, about his message of hell, fire, brimstone, and impending judgment.

When John stood in the mud of the Jordan River and looked out in the congregation, he didn’t seem to see what I see when I look out on Sunday mornings. I see mostly good people who truly want to be better. John saw a snake pit. He preached: “You bunch of poisonous snakes! There’s a bunch of dead stones in this muddy river, but God is able to raise up a family out of these stones. There’s a heap of dry chaff, mixed all up in with the wheat, and you know what God’s going to do? God’s coming with fire to burn off the chaff. I wash you with water; and if this water is too cold for you… there is one who’s coming right behind me who is going to scorch you with fire!”

“You better get washed. You better get clean! If you haven’t treated someone right, go make it right. If you have something you can give to those who have nothing to give, give it. If you have any prejudice in your heart, you better get rid of it. This may be your last warning. Today is the day. Now is the hour, for the ax and the fire are surely coming!”

Now I think, who wants to listen to a sermon like that? As it turns out, lots of people. Luke says: “multitudes” came out to hear him. And genteel, educated preachers in our nice city pulpits everywhere, scratch our heads and ask: “why?”

Perhaps you don’t come to church to listen to a sermon solely to be encouraged. Perhaps you also come to hear the truth.

Multitudes travelled way out into the boonies because that redneck preacher who looked like he could handle a snake or two named John was telling people the truth.

And perhaps that is why we are all here this morning. In a world where we are bombarded with lies…in a world in which we are overwhelmed with deceit, disinformation, propaganda, gaslighting and indoctrination… in a world where people make up stories to control us, using us for their selfish and greedy purposes…in a world where the rich and powerful control the media and malign the media they don’t control…and in a world where money is always the objective, we need to hear someone who will unashamedly speak to us, honestly and truthfully. We come here out of a deep yearning to hear a word of truth from God, because we know deep in our hearts that it is only that truth that will set us free and give us the peace we all desire.

That is why more people went out to hear John preach in the boondocks than have ever come here to hear me preach in the comfortable city sanctuaries where I have preached. Multitudes trudged through the briars and dust and went to hear a fire-breathing preacher who stood, not in a beautifully crafted and decorated pulpit, but in the muddy Jordan River, and spoke of axes, judgment, and fire. They went to hear the truth, even though they knew that truth was going to hurt. Because they somehow instinctively knew that it was the truth and only the truth that was going to set them free and give them a lasting peace.

If John was here today, I believe he would tell you that preachers like me often sell you short. And maybe he would be right.

For I have noticed, when every now and again, I unintentionally slip up and step on a few toes, a lot harder than I would ever intend to, inferring that some of you are not right…That some of you could do a little better…That some of you need a bath…That some part of you needs to be cut off, removed; something in you needs to be burned away…When I challenge you by saying something like: peace is only going to come on earth if you do something, that justice is only going to be done, if you use your privilege and power and act…When I explain how, even now, we are participants in the systems of oppression we deplore… you know what happens? Why, people line up after the service to say, “Thank you preacher. I really needed to hear that!” “You really got on top of my feet today! Thanks for being honest.”

I wonder what would happen if preachers all over the world had the gall to discuss all the lies and disinformation in our world today that is behind the growing popularity of fascism. What if we inferred that all of us could do more to stop it, that we could be more vocal in our condemnation of it, that our silence today only helps to normalize it, and such normalization is actually part of the historical playbook of fascism?

What do we think our congregants would do if we challenged them— telling them the truth that when they hear their neighbors, co-workers and family members say things like: “People are just over-reacting;” “Things will not get that bad!” “The people in power? Why, they’re only talking. They don’t really mean what they say.” Our system of democracy is not fragile”—when they hear that, and then they say nothing, they only help to normalize fascism.

What would happen if preachers made a historical comparison between our silence today and the silence of those in 1860 when their friends defended slavery, saying things like: “We are actually doing them a favor!” What would happen if preachers compared our silence to those in 1930’s Germany when their friends defended concentration camps, saying something like: “Oh, they are just work camps. They are only helping people learn the value of labor and hard work!” What would happen if we compared our silence with those who said nothing when everyone around them was calling Martin Luther King Jr. “a troublemaker?”

Yeah, saying those things will certainly make some people mad. Some may not turn in their pledge cards. It may cause them to leave and never come back. But I have a feeling they’ll be many people lined up in narthexes everywhere to thank us, because people know the truth that before something can be born anew, something old must die. Before love can win, someone must be willing to pick up and carry a cross. Before justice can be done, work must be done. Before peace can happen, sacrifices must be made. Before Christmas can be celebrated, gifts must be given.

That is why people came to hear John preach. They came for the candor, for the honesty, and for the truth. From his prolific sermon illustrations (the fire, the ax, and chaff), we know that what John was preaching was the death of something old and the birth of something new.

This is why the multitudes traveled out into the boonies to hear John preach. Because when John told the people what they needed to change, what they needed to prune, cut off and burn up, the wilderness began to look something like the Garden of Eden. The muddy Jordan became the River of Life. Out of the dry dust, a flower began to bloom. Peace on earth became a little bit more of a reality.

This was the message of John the Baptist. People flocked to hear John, and I believe come to worship every Sunday so they can hear the truth: that none of us are who we ought to be. All of us could do better. We could be better.

We come here to ask God to hold up a mirror in front of us so we can see our complacency and our complicity. We ask God to search us and know our hearts; to test us and know our thoughts, to see if there is any wicked way in us and lead us the way that is everlasting. And having accepted the truth, we come to drop to our knees and ask God to take an ax and cut us down, or kindle a fire and purge us, so we can be reborn, so we can be cleansed and changed, so we can then do all that we can do to change the world. John preached the possibility of such a transformation.

And he’s still preaching it today. We can’t get to Christmas without first meeting him out in the boondocks. Multitudes have. By God’s grace, so will we.[i]

[i] Inspired from a sermon entitled Here Comes the Judge by William Willimon.

It’s Advent, and the Church Has Been Put on Alert

On December 1, 2024December 1, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Sermons Year CLeave a comment

Luke 21:25-36

On this First Sunday of Advent, the lectionary gospel lesson puts the church on alert. If Luke was working with Homeland Security, the watch condition would be raised to the color, red, as the times in which we are living are severe. If there has ever been a time for the church to be prepared, wide awake, and paying attention it is now.

And what are we looking for? What are we making preparations for? For Jesus to show up of course!

The problem for some of us, including your pastor, is that sounds absolutely terrifying!

For that is how I was certainly introduced to this topic raised in a church where there was no shortage of end-of-the-world Sunday School lessons and doomsday sermons. In the sixth grade, I had a Sunday School teacher who talked about the imminent appearance of Christ every Sunday for an entire year. She clouded my head with charts and graphs, all indicating that Jesus was to appear in the clouds before my high school graduation.

In seventh grade, our youth minister took us to see the movie The Late Great Planet Earth that depicted people disappearing in the rapture. Planes, trains, and automobiles were suddenly without drivers. I watched in horror as planes crashed into crowded cities, trains derailed, and automobiles collided on every street.

And if this was not enough to permanently scar me for life, it seems like every revival preacher I heard preached that they were certain that the Lord was going to show up in their lifetime. This especially bothered me since most of those revival preachers were retired pastors, and to me, looked like they only had only one, maybe two good years left.

Today, we can find preachers all over the internet who are still preaching the imminent coming of Christ in this manner. They point to world events like Russia’s war with Ukraine and Israel’s war with Hamas, the involvement of North Korea and Iran—all signs that Jesus will soon be appearing.

And they’ll use scripture passages like our gospel lesson this morning to admonish Christians to stay alert, to be on guard watching for signs in the sun, moon, and stars. So, every eclipse, solar flare, supermoon, and shooting star is a sign that we are getting ready to meet Jesus! There will be distress among the nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. So, every tsunami, hurricane, or the threat from melting ice caps, becomes signs that we are about to meet Jesus.

So, we are to be always on guard. Everyday, we must be on alert and prepared to stand before Jesus, because we don’t want to Jesus to come back unexpectedly, like a trap.

Thus, when I was a teen, this was the scripture my mom would use to discourage me from watching R-rated movies, drinking a beer, and smoking cigarettes:

“Jarrett, you need to know that the Lord could show up anytime. And if he catches you doing anything you are not supposed to do, he may not take you back to heaven with him.”

Although she probably didn’t realize it, my mom was using scripture the way the church has used it for 2,000 years, to control people with fear.

How sad and ironic is thar when it could be said that the greatest challenge our world faces today is fear.

From Pharaoh in the first chapter of Exodus (v. 8-10) to the fascist tyrants of our day, fear is used to turn those who are in some way different from us into the enemy. Fear causes us to be selfish. Fear is what makes us want to shout: “America first.” Fear causes us to horde, believing we will never have enough for ourselves if we continue to allow others to pour into our country. Fear drives wedges of distrust into our communities and makes any form of compassion or kindness seem dangerous.

Fear causes us to define ourselves and those around us not by what we share, but by what makes us different. Fear creates an “either/or” and “us/them” mentality that makes it nearly impossible to find any common ground, let alone see one another empathetically. Fear drives us inward. It hardens our hearts, darkens our vision, and makes us miserable.

Perhaps fear has always been our greatest problem as human beings, part of our evolutionary DNA. Maybe that is why the most common command in Scripture is: “Do not fear,” spoken 120 times by some angel, some priest or prophet or by an ordinary person.

I believe this is why I am drawn to the words of hope in verse 28 of our gospel lesson this morning. While many will faint in fear when they see bad things happening in the world, Jesus says: “Now when these things begin to take place, [we can] stand up and raise [our] heads, because [our] redemption is drawing near” (21:28).

It’s a promise that may be difficult to believe, because “these things” refers to foreboding signs in the earth and heavens, catastrophe and chaos among the nations, the powers of the day being shaken, and the coming of the apocalyptic “son of man” in power and glory.

So, how can we courageously stand up, and fearlessly keep our heads up, when the whole universe is burning down? How do we live in these days and in the coming days and not fear?

This is why I am glad that Luke is not the only gospel writer to write such apocalyptic narratives. A couple of weeks ago, we heard a hopeful word from Mark who said that such bad things happening just means that something beautiful is about to be born.

Matthew also wrote about Jesus talking about “the son of man coming in glory.” It is in Matthew 25 that we read:

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, (notice that he uses the same language as Luke) and all the angels with him…All the nations will be gathered before him…Then the king will say…“Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.

I believe this passage in which we read Matthew’s description of the Son of Man coming in glory, helps explains why the church should be put on alert, be prepared and on watch today. We need to stay awake and pay attention for opportunities today to see Jesus in the chaos, catastrophe, and calamity of our world. Where? In the eyes of someone who is hungry and needs something to eat, or in the eyes of someone who is thirsty and needs something to drink. We need to stay on constant watch for opportunities to support organizations like Park View Mission, Meals on Wheels, or Lynchburg Daily Bread.

In these perilous days as missiles fall from the sky in Kyiv, bombs are denotated in Gaza, and fascists all over the world are stoking the fires of fear and division, the church is in a red alert situation to be on watch for opportunities to see Jesus in the eyes of a stranger, a foreigner, an immigrant, or a refugee who desperately needs a safe place of welcome, acceptance and hospitality. We need to be on watch for opportunities we may have to provide sanctuary.

In a world where politics is not only force that is more extreme these days, but extreme weather wreaks havoc on us all, especially those who are poor and vulnerable, the church needs to be woke enough to see Jesus the eyes of anyone who needs a safe and dry place to be and comfortable warm clothes to wear. We need to be on watch for opportunities to support warming shelters or places like Miriam’s House and Rush Homes.

In a world where sickness and disease is big business and access to affordable healthcare is tenuous, the church needs to be on watch for those who are sick or experiencing pain and be prepared support health providers such like Johnson Health Center, Community Access Network, or the Free Clinic.

During this time when tyrants seem to have the upper hand, when fear of marginalized groups is used to win elections, the church needs to be placed on full alert, on guard to see Jesus in the anxiety of someone living in some form of confinement, facing some sort of oppression, far from thriving, barely surviving. We need to be on watch for those opportunities we have to compassionately show up in solidarity.

Want to see Jesus this Advent Season? In these times of chaos, calamity, and catastrophe, we certainly need to be wide awake and watchful, hyper-vigilant and keenly aware of opportunities to see his imminent appearance. But don’t look up in fear. Look down with love. Look down and do justice.

Though signs may appear in the heavens like a shining star over Bethlehem, Jesus will not be found in the skies above. Though the capital city shakes, Jesus will not be seen in places of power. If we want to see the one who came into the world as a brown-skinned, middle eastern, undocumented refugee born in a lowly stable, we need to look for him down in the places we least expect to find him, suffering and crying among the least.

So, although the times in which we are living are severe, and the world around us seems to be falling apart, we can courageously keep standing, and fearlessly keep our heads up, because, as Luke says, our redemption is drawing near. Because when Jesus appears before us as we are being vigilant in caring for the least of these among us, it means that we are loving this world as we were created and called to love this world, with a just and equitable love that has the power to redeem, bringing wholeness to all of creation.

A Crowded Table

On November 28, 2024November 28, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year B1 Comment

Sermon delivered during the Interfaith Service of Unity at Peakland Baptist Church in Lynchburg, VA, Thanksgiving Day 2024

Isaiah 25:1-9 NRSV

I begin the sermon with the two questions that are on everyone’s mind today: #1 “Will this divided nation ever come together?” And #2 “When will there finally be peace on earth?”

Nah. That’s not it. The questions on everyone’s mind today are: #1 “What’s for dinner?” and #2 “Who’s all invited?”

The prophet Isaiah answers the first question “What’s for dinner?” with a song about God’s promise of a generous and extravagant table where (as we read in the New Revised Standard Version):

The Lord of hosts will make a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear.

I imagine Isaiah adding: “Did I mention we’ll be havin’ well-mature wines and rich food?”

Isaiah understands that life is best celebrated with plenty of delicious food and the best wines, particularly when times have been dark, when the table’s been empty, when the cupboards ae bare—when tyrants have the upper hand, when the shadows of chaos and catastrophe cover a nation, like it is being punished for their poor choices causing the entire creation to suffer.

In the previous chapter of Isaiah, we hear the desperate lament of the prophet:

The earth is utterly broken, the earth is torn asunder, the earth is violently shaken…the moon… abashed, and the sun ashamed (24:19, 23).

A dark shroud of universal dismay and despair covers the land. And there, under the dismal cover of darkness, everything good seems to be wasting away.

Of course, the first thing Isaiah grieves is the wine cellar. Isaiah cries out:

The wine dries up, the vine languishes, all the merry-hearted sigh, the mirth of the timbrels is stilled, the noise of the jubilant has ceased (24:7-8).

It is in this dry, dark, and desolate setting that a shocking announcement is made by the prophet. It comes in the form of a gracious invitation to attend a most extravagant dinner table with rich food and plenty of delicous wine!

Which brings us to the second question on our minds this day. Now that we know what’s for dinner, we want to know who’s all invited?

And here comes the real shock. Who’s invited? All are invited to enjoy the feast.

And notice that it’s like Isaiah understands that such radical inclusion will be difficult for some folks to believe. So, the prophet uses the word “all” five times in three verses to make sure he gets his point across!

In verse 6 we read that the table is “for all peoples.” And just in case some interpret all peoples to mean just the legal, documented citizenry, the prophet adds, “all nations, and all faces.”

Talk about a crowded table! A table where everyone whose got a face is welcome!

“All are welcome.” That’s the words that we are accustomed to seeing outside some of our houses of worship or our meeting places, right? All are welcome. But it was my son who once pointed out the fallacy of that simple welcome. Referring to the sign outside a church building where I once served, he commented: “Dad, all can’t be welcome unless someone is doing the welcoming. A better sign would read, ‘We welcome all.’”

I had never thought about that. But he’s right. For all to be welcome, someone must do the welcoming. Someone must put in some effort. Someone must take some initiative. Someone must have some radical intentionality to create the revolutionary hospitality. Especially if all faces are invited. Especially if strange faces might show up. And most especially if the table is going to be crowded with strange faces.

I will never forget the first time that my wife Lori came home with me to meet my parents back in 1987, a few months before we were engaged to be married. I am very tempted right now to tell you that it was Thanksgiving, but it was actually Easter.

After attending worship that Sunday, my family gathered around a very crowded table for dinner, nine of us scrunched up together to sit at a table made for six. My aunt and uncle and cousin joined my brother, sister, Mom, Dad, Lori, and me. I was sitting at one end of the able. Dad was seated to my left. And Lori was seated to my right.

As my father asked the blessing using the vernacular of King James in 1611, to make Lori feel welcome at the strange, crowded table, I took my foot under the table and gave Lori a little love-tap on her ankle. (Most inappropriate during the high Old English Eastertide blessing my father was offering, but I suppose that’s what made it so much fun). Feeling my affection under the table in the middle of the prayer, Lori made eye contact with me gave me the sweetest little grin. I know, we were so bad.

A few minutes went by, when Lori got the notion to reciprocate, reaching out her toe to tap my foot. But when she looked over at me, she was rather disappointed to see that I didn’t react. So, she did it once more, this time, a little more playfully. But again, I was as cool as a cucumber, sitting there eating my dinner like it never happened.

That’s because it never happened. Lori, in a state of confusion sat back and peered under the table, only to discover that she had been flirting with my father!

But here’s the thing. My dad also never reacted. He too sat there like it never happened.

Now, I can only come up with two explanations for Daddy’s stoic lack of response. The first one, which I refuse to believe, is that is he enjoyed it and didn’t want her to stop. So, the conclusion I have chosen to draw is that he realized that Lori, bless her heart, didn’t really know what she was doing, and thus he made the decision to extend grace. Instead of embarrassing her, he chose to forgive her, accept her, and love her.

To set a crowded table where every face is welcomed, all those at the table must be intentional when it comes to grace, more so if strange faces are present. All the grace Daddy offered that day would have been for naught, if my cousin, or one of my siblings, was gawking under the table judging all the inappropriate footsie carryings-on.

To set a gracious table, one where every face fed feels safe, appreciated, respected, affirmed, liberated, and loved, takes some work, especially for those faces who have not been feeling those things. To set such a table might mean that we have to go so far as to turn over a table or two. It might mean we need to get into some trouble, in the words of John Lewis, “some necessary trouble, some good trouble.”

Because as history as proved, there are always privileged tyrants in the world who believe it’s their role to play the judge: deciding who deserves a seat at the table and who should be excluded or deported.

I believe it is notable that the Hebrew word for “tyrant” is repeated three times in three verses (verses 3, 4 and 5). In Isaiah 13 and 49, we read that Babylon was the tyrant. But here in chapter 25 the lack of a specific reference conveys the frequent cyclical threat of tyrants throughout history—tyrants in every age whose refusal to demonstrate love and grace, to treat every face with equality and justice, benefits them and their friends at the top, while everyone else suffers, while “the wine drys up, the vine languishes, and all the merry-hearted sigh.”

In every generation, there are those seek to enrich themselves at the expense of others. And fearing a revolt of the masses who will certainly suffer, they lie and make up stories, conning the masses to believe that it’s not them and their oligarch cronies who are preventing them from having a seat at the table, sharing in the rich bounty of the table, but it’s some poor marginalized group who’s preventing them.

It’s the poor and the immigrants, the Eunuchs and the sexually different, the widows and the unmarried, we should fear. They are the ones who are poisoning our blood, making us weak, destroying our culture. The tyranny of the greedy and the powerful who are now at head of the table have nothing to do with our low position or no position at the table, or why there is so little on the plate in front of us.

So, not seated at the prophet’s extravagant table set with rich food and fine wines for all faces, are the tyrants. Because the problem with just one tyrant at the table is that all faces will no longer feel welcomed at the table, especially those who hunger and thirst for a seat at the table, those who have been the victims or the scapegoats of tyranny. These were Isaiah’s people, the faces for whom the prophet was most concerned: the faces of all who have been pushed to the margins: the faces of widows and orphans, the faces of Eunuchs and foreigners, the faces of the poor and needy.

This is the sacred table I believe people of faiths are being called to set in our world today: a large, crowded table where there is no injustice, no bullying, no cruelty, no hate, and no oppression whatsoever.

Setting such a gracious table will most certainly require possessing the courage to flip a table or two, as we will have to work diligently to prevent anything, or anyone, opposed to love from taking over the table.

Public dissent is essential around the table, because the one thing that tyrants count on is the silence of others. As the old German saying goes: “If one Nazi sits down at a table with nine people, and there is no protest, then there are ten Nazis sitting at that table.”

However, when the nine stand up, speak up, and speak out, taking steps to ensure that just love remains at the table, either the fascist will leave the table, taking their prejudice, fear, hate and toxicity with them, or they will find grace for themselves, experience liberation and redemption, and be given a welcomed place at table.

And in the safe space of the table, as the people eat and drink together, as they share their grief and cry together, as they are filled with grace and love together, the dark shroud that had been covering their world will begin to dissipate, and suddenly they will once again be able to celebrate and to laugh together.

Gathered around the crowded and diverse table, Palestinian and Jew, Ukrainian and Russian, Indigenous people and colonists, queer and straight, documented and undocumented, able-bodied, and differently-abled, brown, black and white, all God’s children begin to understand that they share more in common than that which divides them, most importantly, one God, one Lord, and Creator of all faces. And there around the prophetic table, they are able to see their great diversity as the very image of God.

So, what’s for dinner?

As prejudice leaves and fears are relieved and tears are wiped away, mercy and compassion are for dinner.

As disgrace is forgiven and barriers begin to fall, grace and love are for dinner.

As despair dissipates and sorrow fades, hope and joy are for dinner.

As plates are passed and the wine is consumed, as people are seen, their voices are heard, and their beliefs are respected, as enemies become friends, and strangers become siblings, peace and salvation are for dinner.

And who’s all going to be there?

Here, now, this afternoon, tomorrow, next year, and well into the future, around our family tables, around the tables of our faith, around the table of our city, around the table of our nation, around the table of the earth, all who believe in love and need love, all who hunger and thirst for justice, are going to be there! Your faces are going to be there, and my face is going to be there. We are all going to be there, regardless of our religion or lack thereof, ensuring that no one and no thing opposed to love, no matter how powerful, will be there.

And the good news, proclaims Isaiah, is that our hungry and thirsting God will be also there, seated in our midst at the very crowded table, swallowing everything in heaven and on earth that divides us from one another, and consequently, from the love of God.

God will be there with a ravenously righteous appetite, swallowing even death, forever. And the most divided of nations will be united as all become one, and on earth there will be peace, as the entire creation is born again. Amen.

When Christ Is King

On November 24, 2024November 24, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year B1 Comment

John 18:33-37 NRSV

Some of you may remember Yakov Smirnoff, the Ukrainian comedian, who was made famous in the 1980’s with the saying: “America: What a Country!”

When he first arrived in the United States, he was not prepared for the incredible variety of instant products in American grocery stores.

He once told the story of visiting a grocery store just days after he came to America. He said:

“I love this country, I walked down one aisle and saw a jar of powdered orange juice—’just add water the jar’ said. Isn’t that wonderful, just add some water and you get orange juice!”

He went on: “I walked down another aisle and saw a box of powdered milk. Just add water and you get milk. Then ran across a box of powdered eggs. Just add water, and you get eggs.”

He said, “I then went down another aisle and saw a container that said, ‘Baby powder,’ and I thought to myself, ‘America: What a country!’”

I have wondered if those of us who have been a part of churches where infant baptism is not practiced are sometimes tempted to believe that when it comes to baptism. That all a congregation must do for someone to be made into a Christian, a follower of Jesus, is to just add some water. Just fill up the baptistry with water and get a person wet! And before they can dry off, we are patting ourselves on the back saying: “Good job! We did it!! Our work as a church is now finished!” Hallelujah, praise the Lord!”

Consequently, the promises spoken and the commitments made during some baptismal events are solely made by the person being baptized. No promises are made by the congregation. The congregation’s work is over.

However, with the infant baptism that we just observed, it was only the congregation who made the promises, as precious little Phyllis Rose wasn’t able to promise anything. When an infant is baptized the work of the congregation is just beginning.

And, how appropriate is it in 2024 that we are making such commitments on this Christ the King Sunday, as commitments have never been more needed to following the peculiar, counter-cultural, other-worldly, other-realm way of life that Jesus decrees.

As Jesus reminded Pilate after he is arrested, when Christ is our King, our Kingdom, our truth, our worldview, our understanding of birth, life, and death, of meaning and purpose, is not from this world.

Jesus’ statement that if his followers were from this world, they would fight to keep him from being handed over, speaks to the hyper-masculinity of our current world.

Throughout world history, authoritarian tyrants have used hyper-masculinity as the solution to large, complex societal problems, such as some of the problems our country faces today: climate change, inflation, income inequality, loss of manufacturing, and the rise of artificial intelligence.

A history of sexual violence toward women and a felony record only helps such autocrats who claim that they alone have the manly strength to fix all that is wrong, offering a simple explanation for all problems of the nation: We are having these problems because there are these people who are making us weak, less masculine, like immigrants (who are polluting our blood) and LGBTQ people (who are polluting our sexuality and gender).

This reign of hyper-masculinity favors the super-rich, because as the poor continue to get poorer, instead of blaming the rich, the true source of their problems, they’ve been conned into blaming those who have polluted their sexuality and blood.

The reign of Jesus is the exact opposite, because the reign of Jesus heralds the truth that God favors the poor, the meek, and the peacemakers. The reign of Jesus heralds the good news that God favors those who hunger and thirst for justice and is on the side those who are grieving.

The reign of Jesus supports the most vulnerable, stands on the side of the marginalized, defends the rights of women, elevates the widow, and defends the Eunuch.

The reign of Jesus fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty. The reign of Jesus casts down the powerful and lifts up the lowly and decrees that the Kingdom of God belongs to little children like Phyllis Rose.

This is why our commitments today through this service of baptism to guide Phyllis in the way of Jesus are so important. In a world where Phyllis will be bombarded with lies, made-up stories, and propaganda pulling her in the opposite direction, we as the church must be intentionally vigilant in our efforts to guide Phyllis in the gospel truth.

In a world where many do not understand Jesus’ kingship, and others, even those in the church, reject it outright, we’ve made promises before God today to demonstrate to Phyllis that Christ is our King. That the voice that we listen to has never sat on any earthly throne or ever once occupied the White House.

And the voice we listen to tells us that those in this world who have power over us, those who control our thoughts and our actions, are not the strong, the powerful, and the hyper-masculine. But they are the weak, the powerless, and the most vulnerable among us.

And that the perfect example of those with the most power in our lives, in our world, is the tiny precious infant we have baptized this day.

Because, when Christ is King, little children reign supreme.

When Christ is King, the least among us are the greatest, and the last are first.

When Christ is King the humble are exalted and the meek inherit the earth.

When Christ is King, there is no longer male or female, but all are one.

When Christ is King (in the beautiful words of feminist artist Judy Chicago), then…

All that has divided us will merge

And then compassion will be wedded to power

And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind

And then both men and women will be gentle

And then both women and men will be strong

And then no person will be subject to another’s will

And then all will be rich and free and varied

And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many

And then all will share equally in the Earth’s abundance

And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old

And then all will nourish the young

And then all will cherish life’s creatures

And then all will live in harmony with each other and the earth.

And then everywhere will be called Eden once again

Amen.

Birth Pangs!

On November 17, 2024November 17, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year BLeave a comment

Mark 13:1-8 NRSV

One of the great things about living in southern Louisiana were the countless stories I heard about two infamous Cajuns named Boudreaux and Thibodeaux.

One story goes like this:

Pastor Boudreaux was the pastor of a small, rural church and Rev Thibodeaux was the pastor of similar church directly across the road. One day, they were both standing out by the road in front of their churches, each pounding a sign into the ground as fast as they could. The sign read:

“Da End is Near. Turn Yo Sef ‘Roun Now Afore It Be Too Late!”

As soon as the signs got into the ground, a car passed by. Without slowing down, the driver leaned out his window and yelled as loud as he could: “You bunch of religious nuts!”

Then, from the curve in the road Boudreaux and Thibodeaux could hear tires screeching, and then, a great big splash!

Pastor Boudreaux yells at Rev. Thibodeaux across the road and asks: “Do ya tink maybe da signs should jus say ‘Bridge Out’?”

I wonder sometimes if I am like that poor driver, as I am quick to look past scripture like Mark chapter 13 thinking that such passages about the end of days is for the nuts of my faith. After reading each of the lectionary lessons, I told Jeremy and Maria earlier this week that I was going to sidestep Mark 13 and preach the epistle lesson of Hebrews. My thinking was that, right now, no one in this church wants to hear about the end of the world. If we wanted to hear about dooms day, we’d just turn on the TV and watch the news!

And right now, to keep ourselves from sinking any further into the depths of the utter despair, many of us are trying to avoid the news.

However, all week, there’s something about this strange, cataclysmic passage in Mark that kept drawing me to it, something hauntingly relevant, eerily significant.

Most scholars believe Mark was written during, or just after, the catastrophic Jewish revolt against the Roman occupation of Palestine in the year 66. The Roman army crushed the revolution destroying the Jewish temple, and the Jewish people could not have felt more defeated and more hopeless.

Thus, the message of Mark’s Gospel is a message of hope proclaimed amid great devastation and despair. To really hear the message, to truly understand its meaning, we need to listen from a position of desolation, chaos, bewilderment, and panic.

See what I mean when I say, “hauntingly relevant?”

In the ancient world, whenever the forces of darkness seemed to be on the winning side— whenever the powers of deception, division, and oppression seemed victorious over truth, unity, and freedom— whenever fear, hate, and greed seemed to conquer love, justice, and compassion— people sought hope by turning to a peculiar genre of literature called “apocalyptic.”

“Apocalypse” is a word that sounds foreboding and dystopian. We associate it with “impending doom” or “the end of days.” But it literally means “to uncover” or “to reveal” a vision of hope during those times when all hope seems lost.

It’s where the book of Revelation gets its name as it is written a beautiful letter of hope to Christians in Ephesus who were suffering under the tyranny of a narcissistic authoritarian name Caesar Domitian. The book of Daniel is another example of such literature as it was written to encourage Jewish people to refuse to bow down to another narcissistic autocrat named Nebuchadnezzar.

The purpose of all apocalyptic literature is to inspire resistance to the fascism and oppression that is in every age. And it does so “by envisioning an imminent future in which God comes to the rescue in spectacular, vividly poetic fashion,” righting all wrongs and setting things right, inaugurating a new era of liberty, justice, and compassion.[i]

Apocalyptic literature paints a hopeful portrait of God pulling back the veil of what we read in the paper, or watch on the news, to reveal what God is truly up to in this world, revealing that God is still at work transforming sorrow into joy, despair into hope, and death into life.

Despite all appearances, Mary’s song that we call the “Magnificat,” like Hannah’s song from 1 Samuel that inspired our Call to Worship this morning, is even now being fulfilled. Wickedness is perishing. Righteousness thunders. Grief is becoming gladness, times of trial, times peace. The powerful are coming down from their thrones. The lowly lifted up. The hungry filled with good things, and the rich sent away empty. Despite all appearances, under the great veil of darkness and despair, love is winning, justice is coming, healing is happening, freedom is ringing, possibilities are growing, and the entire creation is being born again.

In Mark 13 we read Jesus’ warning to the faithful not to be led astray. Jesus challenges his disciples to see the good news behind the veil, the love behind the fear, the mercy behind the hate, while resisting being among the many who will led astray by those who say, “I am he!” or something like “I alone can fix it.”

When we hear of wars and rumors of wars, of nations that are rising up against nation or are deeply divided, when we hear of natural disasters, when we witness the entire creation crying out in angst and agony, the challenge for the faithful, says Jesus, is to believe that all of this is but “the beginning of the birth pangs.”

“The beginning of the birth pangs.” What a beautiful, hopeful, and expectant description of the suffering of this world! The groaning of creation is but a sign that something new, something wondrous, and ironically enough, something inconceivable, is about to be born. Our grief that is associated with the oppression and hate of this world is but a holy movement of liberation and justice that is even now in gestation. Our grief is the dawning of a new era of healing, mercy, and love.

I believe Jesus is saying: Right now, things are terribly bleak. People are being led astray, many in my name. You have great, seemingly unsurmountable obstacles before you, as large as the giant blocks of stone Herod used to build the temple. You are reeling in shock, sadness, and anger. You are fearful for your neighbors who are vulnerable, undocumented, Muslim, or transgendered. You are grieving the loss of friends and family led astray by lies, fear, and hate.

But that pain that you have? That ache that feels like you’ve been punched in the gut? That wrenching inside of you that keeps you awake at night?

It only means that you are in labor! It only means that something miraculous is about to be born! The misery you feel and the suffering you are enduring are but birth pangs from the Holy One— signs of the inbreaking of the kingdom of God, signs that God is on the move and moving inside of you. Your grief, your stress, and your sleepless nights are but holy contractions letting you know that God is coming in you and through you, to rescue, to restore, and to rebuild.

Jesus is saying: Take heart! All the obstacles before you, no matter how large and impressive, will be thrown down. The mighty upon their thrones shall fall. The hungry fed. The lowly lifted up. The yokes of oppression broken. For the God of love and justice is turning the whole world upside-down, or right-side up!

This past Thursday local clergy with the executive directors of Interfaith Outreach and Park View Mission met downtown at the El Mariachi restaurant for our weekly meeting to support one another while figuring out how to solve all the world’s problems, starting of course here in Lynchburg.

Like all good clergy gatherings, we started the meeting complaining about bad religion, lamenting over the state of the Church today—how many, maybe the majority of churches today, are not just off-track, but having been led astray, they are actually heading in the opposite direction from which they should be going. We shared our grief how this has led to our current national crisis.

We grieved the number of good people we know who have given up on the church. How at one time they claimed to be Christian and were part of a church, only to watch the people in their church behave in the most un-Christlike of ways, disparaging and denigrating the people whom Jesus cared for the most: the poor, the vulnerable, and the marginalized.

We concurred with Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber who said:

People don’t leave Christianity because they stop believing in the teachings of Jesus. People leave Christianity because they believe in the teachings of Jesus so much, they can’t stomach being a part of an institution that claims to be about that and clearly isn’t.

Todd Blake from Park View and Shawne Farmer from Interfaith Outreach lamented the great needs in our city and shared their fears that things were only going to get worse.

Then, in our grief, we began to brainstorm together. We explored ways we could take the love and justice movement (that we believed we were somehow a part of as an interfaith clergy group) and expand it. We talked about ways we could invite others to join, not our churches, but to join a movement we are calling “Just Love Lynchburg,” a movement whose only agenda is love and justice. We discussed creative ways to recruit volunteers to support the work of Interfaith Outreach, Park View Mission and others who are doing good work, mobilizing volunteers of different faiths or of no faith who believe that the greatest thing we can do while we are on this earth is to love our neighbors as ourselves, especially our most vulnerable and marginalized neighbors.

We started talking about building a “Just Love Lynchburg” float for the upcoming Christmas parade. We talked about how going to church and inviting people to come to church with us isn’t going to make this world a better place, or our city a more just and equitable place—that only love can do that.

Excitement around our table grew. We got a little loud. And suddenly and miraculously, El Mariachi transformed from a Mexican restaurant into a labor and delivery room!

Now, I am sure our exuberance baffled the other patrons who overheard our hope and witnessed our joy while they sipped their sipped their margaritas and dipped tortillas in queso. Some of them probably scoffed, whispering to one another, or at least thinking: “what a bunch of religious nuts!”

The good news is, even for all who scoff and doubt, the veil is being lifted, and the holy truth is being revealed. Despite all appearances, under the current cover of darkness, defeat, and despair, love is winning. For the pain we are feeling today only means that the Holy One is moving, moving even now, in each one of us. Our sufferings are but birth pangs, letting us know that a little something miraculous is growing inside of each of us, and those little somethings, collectively, because we are all in, together, have the power to change the world.

Thanks be to God.

[i] https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/lectionary-commentary-for-twenty-sixth-week-after-pentecost

A Word from the Lord

On November 10, 2024November 10, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year BLeave a comment

I Kings 17:8-16 NRSV

More than one person has reached out to me this week saying, “I hope you’ve been working on your sermon, because I really need to hear a word of hope and encouragement from you.”

But there’s a tiny little problem with that. I am not sure I have such a word, because after this week, I need someone to share a word of hope and encouragement with me.

What I need today, and what I believe you need, is not a word from a preacher. What we need today is a word from the Lord.

The good news is that is how our Hebrew Lesson this morning begins. In verse 8 we read:

The word of the Lord came to him.

Whenever I read a verse like this one, someone will inevitably comment: “I sure wished the Lord spoke to people today like God did back in the day.”

Well, I believe God is still speaking. The problem is we’re usually not listening.

The passage continues:

Go now to Zarephath and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you when you arrive.

The good news is that the Prophet Elijah is listening. For he sets out and goes immediately to Zarephath.

And when he comes to the gate of the town, just as the Lord had said, he meets a widow who is gathering a couple of sticks to build a fire for supper. Elijah calls out to this one who has been commanded by the Lord to invite him to supper: “Will you pour me a glass of water? And while you’re at it, bring me a slice of bread?”

But she answers:

As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked. I have only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug.

Like many our nation today, maybe she wasn’t listening when the Lord commanded her to extend hospitality to strangers when they arrive at your border.

Or perhaps she heard the command. She just doubted the command. But maybe she didn’t so much doubt the command as she feared the command.

Perhaps she wanted to follow the command. She just didn’t feel like she was able, that she had any more to give. For she had fought so hard, given so much, only to have everything for which she worked for taken away.

Like us, the widow remembered more triumphant times: when freedom was won for the enslaved; opportunity won for immigrants; liberation won from fascism; civil rights won for minorities; reproductive rights were won for women; and civil rights and protections won for the LGBTQ community.

But now there’s a great famine in the land, and paralyzed by grief, the widow didn’t know how to follow the commands of the Lord. How could she keep giving? How could she continue loving? She had almost nothing left. She’s distraught and disillusioned, dejected and depleted. She didn’t see any way forward.

The last time she checked her pantry, she saw that she had only enough flour and oil to make one final meal for her and her family. Then, in the midst famine in the land, she knew that they would surely die.

Elijah then says something to the widow that many of us need to hear today. The prophet says: “Do not be afraid.”

But, there’s something patronizing, hollow, even offensive, about those words.

Hebrew Scripture Professor Katherine Schifferdecker imagines the widow responding:

Easy for you to say! You’re not the one preparing to cook one last meal for yourself and your son before you die. You’re not the one who has watched your supply of flour and oil relentlessly dwindle day-by-day, week-by-week, as the sun bakes the seed in the hard, parched earth. You’re not the one who has watched your beloved son slowly grow thinner and more listless.

In other words: the privileged audacity to tell me not to be afraid! You’re not a widow. You’ve never been devalued, been the victim of injustice or ever been this vulnerable.

We can hear her saying:

You’re not an immigrant. You’re not transgendered. You’ve never had anyone despise your very existence. You’re not poor. You don’t depend on Affordable Care or live on Social Security. You don’t live in Ukraine or Gaza or in states where women have fewer rights. You’ve never had to worry about being refused medical care and you have never feared dying from a miscarriage. You’ve never had to plead for your life to matter, only to get ridiculed for doing so. You’ve never been labeled “the enemy from within” or “the problem with the country.”

You’ve never walked in my shoes. You don’t know how many miles I have marched for liberty and justice. You don’t know how many friends I’ve lost, how many family members I’ve offended, the bullying I’ve endured, by standing on the side of those demeaned by sick religion and by a culture of greed. You don’t know all I’ve sacrificed. You’ve never felt my prayers of anguish and tears.

But Elijah says to her once more: ‘Do not be afraid; go and bake a little cake and bring it to me, and afterwards bake something for yourself and your son’ (1 Kings 17:13).

Schifferdecker continues:

How dare this prophet of God ask me for cake, knowing that I have so little? Who does he think he is, asking me for bread before I feed my own? I told him that I have only ‘a handful of meal, a little oil, and a couple of sticks.’ There’s not enough. And Death waits at my door.

Then the good news, a word from the Lord comes:

For thus says the Lord the God of Israel: ‘The jar of meal will not be emptied, and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.’

When you are knocked down and can’t see any path forward, when you feel like we have nothing left to give, if you can somehow, someway summon the courage to rise up to continue following the difficult and risky commands of the Lord, loving courageously and giving generously, if you dare to step outside our comfort zones to follow the steps of the Lord, you can be assured that “Your jar will not be emptied, and your jug will not fail.”

So, she got up, maybe hesitantly, perhaps fearfully, but that didn’t matter.The only thing that mattered was that she got up and faithfully followed the Lord’s command. And she and her household ate for many days.

The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah (1 Kings 17:14-16).Do you hear it? Are you listening? It’s a word from the Lord.

Maybe we hear it, but we are still doubting it, still fearing it.

Following the commands of Jesus these days is just too dangerous. We need to play it safe. Focus inward. Get out of from politics. Stay away from trouble.

As sure as the Lord God lives, it’s too risky to speak truth to power. We can’t continue to call out their lies and their greed, their stoking the fires of fear, their fanning the flames of hate, their sowing the seeds of vulgarity, division, and violence.

As sure as the Lord God lives, we just don’t have enough power now to fight for the rights of women which have been stripped away, the rights of immigrants threatened with deportation, or fight for the rights of transgendered people, that those with all the power now, want to erase.

Have you heard the news? Do you know what is going on? There’s an anti-Christ spirit gripping our land! As sure as the Lord God lives…

We can’t afford put the needs of others over our own when it is more popular to serve only ourselves.

We can’t identify with the least when it is more popular to scapegoat them for all the country’s problems.

We can’t welcome the immigrant when it is more popular to dehumanize and deport them.

We can’t be peacemakers when it is more popular to support a militia.

We can’t preach loving our enemies when it is more popular to call for their executions.

We can’t care for our environment when it is more popular to scoff at science.

We can’t mention words like “racism,” “sexism,” “Antisemitism,” “Islamophobia,” and “transphobia” when it is more popular to hate.

We can’t support affordable healthcare, fair living wages and access to equitable education when it is more popular to do the exact opposite.

We can’t follow Jesus these days when it is more popular to just worship Jesus.

We simply don’t have enough left to follow the risky commands of the Lord.

We don’t have enough sticks to lose ourselves.

There’s not enough meal in the jar to deny ourselves.

And there’s not enough oil in the jug to even think about picking up a cross.

When morale is low and our sticks are about to run out, when we can see the bottom of the jar, and we’re squeezing mere drops from the jug, the grace of Jesus seems too extravagant, the mercy of Jesus too generous, and the love of Jesus too gracious. The light that Jesus commands us to shine takes too much energy and involves too much risk! And we are afraid we just don’t have what it takes.

We doubt such light. We question such light. We fear such light.

Our defense mechanisms are telling us that, right now, it’s best to keep the light hid, out of sight, tucked away under a bushel. Fear tells us to take down the flag, get off the internet, and retreat behind locked doors.

But then comes a word from the Lord.

Are we listening?

When an anti-Christ spirit possesses the nation;

and we’re tempted to believe we do not have enough sticks to keep the fire burning;

that we need to retreat into the sanctuary;

that we need to accept a personal, private Jesus, keep him deep down our hearts and out of the public square;

that we need to be tightfisted with grace, scrimp on mercy, and be stingy with love;

Behold, we hear a word from the Lord:

“Do not be afraid. Because when you follow the commands of God, your jar will never be emptied and your jug will never fail, and as long as you are working for justice, you will always have a great big pile of sticks!”

There’s no number of bomb threats from Russia, no amount of misinformation from Elon, no amount of lies on Fox News, no amount of false prophets in our churches, bullies on the city council, or fascism in the White House, that will ever empty your jar.

There’s no amount of hate in Congress, meaness in the Senate, and Christian Nationalism on the Supreme Court, that will ever cause your jug to fail!

There’s no new policy, no executive order, no tweet, and no political rally that will ever deplete your basket of sticks!

In the Second chapter of Kings, we read about a man who brings the prophet Elisha a prophet’s tithe: Twenty loaves of bread and some fresh ears of grain in a sack.

Elisha accepts the tithe, but says, I want you to take this food and give it to 100 people who who are very poor.

The man responds: “But there’s just no way. There is not enough food here to set before a hundred people.”

But then comes a word from the Lord: “Because of your great faith in giving to the Lord during this time of scarcity, I have this feeling that there’s is going to be more than enough.”

The man set the food before the people, and there was not only enough, but it was indeed more than enough, as they had leftovers.

Just like they had after the disciples fed 5,000 people with a few loaves and a couple of fish.

Just like I am sure they had had after Jesus turned water into all that delicious wine!

Just like I am sure they had after the father welcomes the prodigal son home with that extravagant dinner party!

The good news is that God is still speaking today. God is still filling jars and replenishing jugs, and in God’s kingdom, the sticks that fuel the fire of the Holy Spirit are renewable resources!

So, let’s listen up! Don’t doubt, and don’t be afraid!

Let’s follow the commands of the Lord. Let’s love generously, love extravagantly, and love graciously! Let’s deny ourselves. Take up a cross. Take a risk. Continue to put the needs of others ahead of our own. Let’s make some folks uncomfortable. Be willing to lose a friend. All the while being kind, doing justice, walking humbly, speaking truth to power, preaching good news to the poor, and proclaiming freedom to the oppressed.

Let’s show the world that hope will never be silent, faith will never fade, and love will never cower.

Because, although we may think we don’t have what it takes, there is enough. There will always be enough.

No, in God’s abundant mercy, there will always be more than enough.

This is the word of the Lord.

Thanks be to God.

Election Grief

On November 6, 2024November 6, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn FCC NewsletterLeave a comment

Today, I cannot be more grateful for our church and for the beautiful light we shine together in the darkness, and for the brave spaces we provide people to bring and share their fears, doubts, and grief. Our church has perhaps never been more important to our community than it is now.

I pray that you have a church or community that provides such a space for you. If not, please feel free to contact me as I may be able to assist. Take time today to breathe. Find some joy in the simple pleasures of life. Hug a friend or a loved one.

Take heart, knowing that the grief you feel today only means that you are loving this world as you were created to love this world. You are hurting today because you care for those for whom Jesus has called you to care. You are angry and afraid today because you take seriously your purpose to be a good steward of the earth and to love your neighbors as you love yourself. And the only way not to experience the grief we share today, is to live selfish, self-centered, and self-absorbed lives which we know is the antithesis of the way of God.

So, I say to you today, grieve. Grieve long and deeply. Do not run away from it. Do not treat it as if it were a stranger you could send away, or deny that grief, because someone who does not know any better thinks grieving means your faith is weak. Grieve what is lost. Grieve honestly, empathetically, lovingly, and patiently. Grieve until your cup is emptied. For this is the only way back to wholeness.

And then, together, we will rise to continue to shine a light in the darkness. We will continue to stand against White Christian Nationalism and the hate that is so much a part of this world. We will continue fighting to build a nation where there is truly liberty and justice for all people, especially for people who are poor, vulnerable, and marginalized. We will continue to be the disciples of Jesus we have been called to be.

A Vision of Heaven

On November 3, 2024November 3, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year BLeave a comment

Revelation 21:1-6a

Well, as someone who loves you and is concerned for your well-being, I need to ask you, “How are you doing?”

“Well, preacher, how do you think we are doing!”

“We are living in some very uncertain days. These are some very dark times. We are living in the shadow of grief and despair. Our entire future is in doubt. We are anxious, as there is so much to fear. People have rejected the gospel, the good news towards the poor, the immigrant, all who live on the margins.

And there’s this narcissistic, authoritarian tyrant in our land. And people we know and love, are bowing down to him. They are not just defending him, but they seem to worship him. He spews hate, and the people cheer! He threatens anyone who is against him, and the people love it!”

Of course, I am talking about Caesar Domitian, that ruthless ruler of the Roman Empire who persecuted Christians in the first century. And I’m imagining a conversation between the Christians who lived during that time in Ephesus, and a concerned preacher named John, the author of the beautiful letter of hope that we call Revelation.

Imprisoned on the island of Patmos for offending the powers-that-be by preaching the inclusive good news of the gospel, John writes a powerful letter of encouragement in which he describes the divine culmination of all that is, a heavenly vision to hold out for and to work towards—a beautiful vision of a new heaven and a new earth and a holy city; where, in the end, all who thirst for peace and justice and love will drink from the spring of the water of life.

Now, to be honest (in a way that may be offensive to some), the promise of going to heaven one day to live forever and ever and ever and ever has not always been appealing to me. I have never desired to live in a mansion or walk on streets of gold. Because I seek to follow Jesus who intentionally identified with the poor, such opulence turns my stomach.

Floating on a cloud playing a harp for all of eternity has never sounded like good times to me. Furthermore, I have always been leery of Christians who seem to make going to heaven one day the whole point of what it means to be a Christian. That sounds rather selfish to me. And when I consider the selflessness of Jesus, the words and works of Jesus, I believe that type of theology misses the whole point of what Christianity is all about.

Consequently, I believe the vision of heaven in Revelation (while it might be our eternal home) it’s not so much our future home, as it is our present purpose. It’s not so much our final destination, as it is our daily goal. It’s not so much where we are going when we die, as it is what we are called to create while we are alive. It’s God’s vision of what the world should be, could be, and will be. It’s the vision of the kingdom of God that we seek to prophetically proclaim. It’s the vision of life that we are praying for and working toward until it fully and finally comes on earth as it is in heaven.

It is the vision we are called to live into no matter the outcome of Tuesday’s election, as we know that the status quo is not the divine destiny. The current darkness of hate and division, even if it grows darker, is not the holy purpose that God is calling every human to and leading the entire creation toward.

What does heaven, this holy purpose look like?

We are called to live into a vision of a world where no one is thirsting for their lives to matter, where no one is treated as second-class or is ever called “garbage.” In the twenty-second chapter, in rich, symbolic language we read that the water of life which quenches all thirst is a mighty river flowing, bright as crystal, from the very throne of God, accessible to all in the middle of the holy city’s main street!

What does heaven look like?

On both sides of the river, again, accessible to all, we read there is a tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, and the leaves on the trees have the power to heal the nations, bringing an end to all war and violence, greed and oppression, sickness and disease.

What does heaven look like?

We continue reading that nothing accursed will be there. There will be no more hate; no more bigotry; no more ugliness; no more name-calling; no more racism and sexism; nothing that is vile, foul, or evil.

What does heaven look like?

Here’s my favorite part: Heaven looks like the servants of Christ, all the saints of God, gathered around the throne worshipping together. The good news is that we don’t have to only imagine heaven or just read about heaven. The good news is that we have seen heaven. We have experienced heaven.

For what does heaven look like?

Heaven looks like Coretha Loughridge. Heaven looks like a saint who faithfully and courageously lived into the vision of heaven as she answered a call to ministry during a time when most believed that God only calls men to such a vocation. Undeterred by the prevailing sexism of the culture and attacks from misogynistic bullies in the church, Coretha not only faithfully served as a pastor and as a regional minister, she taught, modeled, and exemplified the radical inclusivity that we see worshipping around the throne in Revelation, encouraging countless other women to follow in her steps.

And the good news is this saint of God, is still encouraging and still inspiring the church to stand up today for the rights of women in a patriarchal religious culture where men seek to subjugate women, objectify women, control women, tell women what they need, whether they like it or not.

What does heaven look like?

Heaven looks like Dorothy Watkins. Heaven looks like this saint who lived into the vision of heaven by teaching us that when grief casts a dark shadow in our world, when the dark clouds of despair appear our world, when it seems impossible see any path forward, we can carry on knowing that the darkness will not overcome us.

Dorothy became well-acquainted grief at a very young age when she experienced the untimely death of her father who died when he was only 34 years-old and was subsequently sent to live in an orphanage. Then as an adult, Dorothy lost her husband, like her father, before he turned 40. She later lost her stepson Daniel, and then lost her granddaughter Christy in a tragic car accident.

The miracle was that though the darkness overshawdowed her, it did not defeat her. With faith Dorothy persevered, as evidenced through her selfless service with Fairview Christian, Euclid Christian and First Christian Church, and through her dedicated work as an accountant with Herb Moore and the Lynchburg Covenant Fellowship. Dorothy’s light shined in the darkness teaching us that no matter how dark the world seems, faith will not be dimmed. Hope will not fade. And love will never die.

What does heaven look like?

Heaven looks like Linda Cox. After teaching for Lynchburg Public Schools, Linda and Bryan moved to Northern Virginia in 1974 for Bryan’s new job. At the time, public schools were not hiring, so she interviewed for a teaching position at the Catholic School where she was asked how she felt about teaching black kids. Linda’s response was beautiful, saying: “kids are kids.”

“Kids are kids” –a simple, but at the same time, a profound vision that is perhaps most needed in a world where there are powers that seek to divide us and keep us afraid of one another. A beautiful, holy vision needed today where the children of God are dehumanized, referred to as “vermin,” “an infestation,” “dogs,” “aliens,” “low-IQ,” “low-life,” “bimbo, “human scum,” or “theys” who are “poisoning the blood of our country.”

I love how Revelation describes the divine human destiny. In Revelation 7, we read where every person is present—all nations, all tribes, all races, and all languages. Puerto Ricans are there. Haitians are there. Mexicans are there. Venezuelans are there. Palestinians are there. All ethnicities, all languages, all people are there, and all means all.

What does heaven look like?

Our holy purpose looks like diversity, equity, and inclusion. Our divine destiny that we are praying for, working toward, and fighting to create, is a world where “kids are kids” and there not distinction between male and female, Jew and Gentile, slave and free, as all are one. Our present purpose is what Jesus taught, modeled, and embodied, and it is what the saints of God we remember this day lived.

And now, as someone who loves you and is concerned for your well-being, (it’s me now, not John) I need to ask you, “How are you doing?”

“Well, preacher, with a holy vision of a new heaven and new earth, how do you think we are doing!

We are living in some uncertain days. These are some very dark times, but our future is not in doubt, thus we have nothing to fear. For our hope has been revealed. We’ve seen our destiny. We have been shown our purpose. We have heard our calling; thus, echoing the words of Bishop Steven Charleston, a Native American elder and citizen of the Choctaw Nation, whose people have endured days much darker than we have:

When they hate, we will love!

When they curse, we will bless!

When they hurt, we will heal!

Because we are servants of the light!

And we are not afraid of the darkness.

We will carry on with our work as stewards of the Earth and all her children.

When they divide, we will unite!

When they rage, we will calm!

When they deny, we will affirm!

We will simply be who we are, for that is what the Spirit has created [and destined] us to be.”

Amen.

Commissioning and Benediction

Envisioning the divine destiny of this world, having received a revelation that the saints of God have shared and share this day, may our faith, hope and love be a beacon for others who feel as though darkness has engulfed them.

Let’s go and be who we are, the people the God has created, Christ has called, and the Spirit has destined and is leading us to be. Amen.

Now Is the Time

On October 31, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn FCC Newsletter, Short Articles1 Comment

“Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.”

This is how my maternal grandmother, who I called “Nana,” taught me how to use a manual typewriter in the early 1970’s. She instructed me to type this sentence over and over until I could complete it without errors and without looking at the keys.

This is when I received my first World War II history lesson. Nana was a nurse for the British army who met my grandfather, a member of US Coast Guard, when his ship docked in England to change crews in 1944. Nana explained the typing lesson by telling stories of how she was forced to retreat to bomb shelters as the Nazis dropped bombs on London. She taught me the history of Adolph Hitler’s rise to power and how he scapegoated the Jewish people, blaming them for all of Germany’s problems. I learned how the Jewish people were dehumanized as Hitler referred to them as “vermin.” I remember my grandmother comparing Nazism to the KKK in our country, while explaining how, in every country, there are always times when good people are called to take a stand.

Realizing that she had piqued my interest in WWII through that typing lesson, Nana gave me an audio history of WWII on cassette tapes. I remember spending hours in my bedroom listening to the documentary-style tapes which featured historical sounds from battles, interviews with veterans, and speeches given by Roosevelt, Churchill, and Hitler. This is how I learned that Hitler was freely elected by the German people as Chancellor of Germany, and how he changed the government making him a dictator which led to the Jewish Holocaust and to the internment of other “elements of sub-humanity” who were viewed as “internal enemies,” including queer people, communists, and socialists.

My grandparents involvement in WWII and those cassette tapes transformed my simple typing lesson into a profound pledge, a vow to always be ready to come to the aid of my country whenever I hear authoritarian language, phrases like “the enemy from within,” and whenever I hear minorities being dehumanized, referred to as “vermin,” “an infestation,” “dogs,” “aliens,” “low-IQ,” “low-lifes,” “bad genes,” or “theys” who are “poisoning the blood of our country.”

Jim Wallis, best-selling author of False White Gospel: Rejecting Christian Nationalism, prophetically calls the time in which we now live: “a Bonhoeffer moment.” Of course, Wallis is referring to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who was executed by the Nazis for his role in trying to overthrow Hitler.

In other words, Wallis is explicitly saying:

“Now is the time for all good [people] to come to the aid of their country.”

We’re on the Way

On October 27, 2024October 27, 2024 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year BLeave a comment

Mark 10:46-52 NRSV

The first thing we learn from our scripture lesson this morning is that Jesus and his disciples are on the move. They are on the way. Jericho was not the final destination. There is one last stop to make. Jerusalem: Where furious religious leaders, offended by the good news of the gospel toward those who are poor, ashamed of the grace of the gospel toward those who have been cast aside, and shocked by the topsy-turviness of the gospel toward those considered to be the least, have been plotting to put an end to all. Jerusalem: Where a selfless Jesus is prepared to love and to forgive and to be killed for the sake of the gospel.

It is on this way, this way of self-denial and self-giving, this way of self-expending love for all people, especially those who are otherized, demonized and marginalized, that Jesus is confronted by a man who fits every one of those descriptions. His name is Bartimaeus. He is not only blind, he’s also a beggar. He’s helpless, and he’s poor. He’s disabled and he’s dismissed. Because many believed there must be some reason for his blindness, he is judged and demonized. And, in desperation, this “other” is waiting for Jesus on the side of the road. From the margins, he’s waiting for some love. He’s waiting for some justice, and he is waiting for some grace.

He jumps up and pleads: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And notice the actions of the crowd. They try to silence him, for they simply don’t want to hear his cries.

Does that sound familiar?

Have you ever been on the way somewhere, met someone, nodded your head and asked: “How ya doin’?” It’s a stereotypical pleasantry, an informal greeting. You expect them to nod back, and say something like, “I’m good, how ya doin’?”

But then, to our surprise, the person doesn’t answer the way we expect them to answer, the way we want them to answer, the way we believe they should answer. No, this person decides to unload on you. They have all of these aches and pains, all of these troubles and frustrations, all kinds of maladies that you label as TMI.

We don’t like TMI, especially when the TMI has to do with suffering.

I believe this is one of the reasons we tend to avoid people who have some sort of disability. Their suffering threatens us, because their circumstances are a reminder of how vulnerable all of us are. We know that if it could happen to them, it could happen to us, or to one of our loved ones. So, we prefer to keep the sick, the troubled, the unfortunate, and the disabled out of sight, thus out of mind.

I admire companies like Target and Kroger who make it their mission to hire disabled persons. Fortunately, there are many advocates today for the disabled and others who have been marginalized by society who are urging them to come out, to come forward, to speak up, and to seek equity and equality.

This blind beggar does just that. Despite the crowd who “sternly orders him to be quiet,” the man keeps yelling at Jesus, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And the good news is that Jesus hears his voice. Jesus stops. And Jesus calls him to come over.

Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Not surprisingly, blind Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, let me see again.”

And Jesus does just that. He says, “Go, your faith has made you well.”

Then Mark describes something that he never describes when telling a healing story. Out of all the folks that were healed in Mark’s gospel, Bartimaeus is the only one who chooses to follow Jesus “on the way.” Out of all the people who were healed by Jesus, Bartimaeus is the only one who becomes a disciple and follows Jesus on the way to Jerusalem; on the way to the cross; down the road of self-denial and self-expenditure; down the road of grace, mercy, justice, abundant and eternal life.

Thus, what we have here in this text is not just another miraculous healing story, but a wonderful story of discipleship. And guess what? It’s not just a story about one blind beggar. It is a story about you and me.

For, I believe we sometimes tend to come to Jesus asking him to heal us, solve our problems, fix what’s wrong with us. We come to Jesus saying: love me, feed me, hold me, and make me happy. Give me some sense of fulfillment. We come to church hoping that we might get something out of Jesus, something from Jesus, that he might give us some semblance of peace and joy. We come to Jesus seeking help, wholeness, security, and spiritual bliss.

But how many of us come to Jesus because we are truly willing to follow Jesus as a disciple, especially to those places that we know Jesus is heading?

After restoring Bartimaeus’ sight, Jesus tells him that he can go on his way. And who would blame Bartimaeus if he turned around right then to go on his way? Think of all the places he might want to go! Think of all the sights that he might want to see with his new eyes!

Bartimaeus could have gone home with his new-found faith in Jesus and love for Jesus. He could have been content knowing that Jesus heard his cries, restored his sight, and gave him salvation.

But Bartimaeus doesn’t go his way.

Bartimaeus goes Jesus’ way.

Bartimaeus chooses to follow Jesus. Where? Toward Jerusalem. Toward rejection. Toward a mission of love, mercy, and justice that will make some in power label him “the enemy within.” Bartimaeus chooses to follow Jesus all the way to the cross.

The irony is that Bartimaeus is introduced to us in this story as “a blind man.” However, Bartimaeus proves he may see Jesus much better than many who call themselves “Christians” today.

Bartimaeus teaches us that this thing we call “Christianity,” this thing we call “church,” is all about following Jesus.

Jesus is not calling people who merely want to be saved, to be healed, to be made stronger, to see more clearly, and to be fed by him. Jesus is not calling people who simply want to agree with him, believe in him, or admire him. Jesus is not calling people who only want to read about him, study him, or sing praise songs to him. Jesus is calling people who desire to follow him.

In C.S. Lewis’ classic novel, The Screwtape Letters, the devil advises an apprentice demon that the main way to keep people from the Christian faith is to prevent the potential convert from doing anything.

The devil says that the main thing…

…is to prevent his doing anything. As long as he does not convert it into action, it does not matter how much he thinks about this new repentance. Let the little brute wallow in it. Let him, if he has any bent that way, write a book about it…. Let him do anything but act. No amount of piety in his imagination and affections will harm us if we can keep it out of his will. As one of the humans has said, active habits are strengthened by repetition, but passive ones are weakened. The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able to ever act, and in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.

To the dismay of CS Lewis’ devil, Bartimaeus put his faith into action and followed Jesus, even toward Jerusalem.

At the end of this service, we are going to have what we call an invitation. Some churches call it an altar call. It is a practice that was started in many protestant churches during the turn of the 20^th century. Those who wish to dedicate or rededicate their lives to Christ or become a member of the church are invited to come down to the front as a public sign of their commitment.

Sometimes, this practice has been emotionally manipulative. Preachers have used guilt and other forms of pressure to get people to walk the aisles. Because of this, the invitation or the altar call has been dropped in many churches and is very rare in most denominations.

Well, I’m not ready to drop it, and it’s not just because I have a little Baptist left in me from my childhood. It is because I believe, despite its misuse and abuse, the “Invitation,” whether or not anyone ever comes forward, keeps reminding us that it is not enough for us to come together on Sunday morning to get something out of Jesus: a sense of well-being, as sense of peace, a feel-good feeling of spiritual bliss. It reminds us that the point of it all, the point of Christianity is to follow Jesus, to give our lives to Jesus, to stumble after him along the way, even to Jerusalem. To be like Bartimaeus and summon the courage to stand up and not be ashamed, to be willing to give and to sacrifice and follow him on the way:

On the way to hear and answer the cries of the disabled;

On the way to stand up and speak up for those who are otherized, demonized and marginalized;

On the way to defend liberty on the behalf of the oppressed;

On the way to speak words of healing to the sick;

On the way to speak words of grace to those who struggle, words of peace those who are afraid;

On the way to put our arms around the troubled and offer hope to the despairing;

On the way to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned;

On the way to the ballot box to vote for people who care, not just about themselves or their friends, but truly care about the least among us;

On the way to Jerusalem, where resistance, and even a cross awaits.

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