Tag: civil rights

The Lane Is a Lie

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C6 Comments

Luke 10:38-42

I recently received some advice from a concerned friend, and I quote: “Jarrett, as a pastor you’d be better off to just preach the gospel and stay out of politics. Just stay in your lane.”

And as you are probably aware, I am not the only preacher who has been told this.

Following the murder of George Floyd in 2020, when preachers spoke the names of Breonna Taylor, Tyre Nichols, or Sandra Bland from their pulpits, or when they dared to say out loud, “Black Lives Matter,” many congregants responded with discomfort or outright anger, telling pastors they were being “too divisive,” and yes, “too political.”

Translation: Stay in your lane.

Churches that have offered physical sanctuary to undocumented immigrants have been surveilled, threatened with fines, and reported to ICE. The pastor of a Colorado church that sheltered a mother facing deportation was investigated for “harboring a fugitive.”

Translation: Stay in your lane.

When churches in Georgia, Florida, and North Carolina organized voter registration drives, especially in Black and poor communities, they were accused of violating the Johnson Amendment by “engaging in politics.” In 2022, a church in Georgia was investigated for “election interference” after encouraging people to vote for candidates who support Medicaid expansion without endorsing a particular candidate.

Translation: Stay in your lane.

And now, pastors, rabbis, and imams who dare to speak out against the ethnic cleansing in Gaza, who mourn the loss of innocent life and demand a ceasefire and humanitarian aid, are accused of being antisemitic, unpatriotic, or “on the wrong side of history.” All because they had the audacity to declare that every life is sacred.

Translation: Stay in your lane.

In all these cases, the message is clear:

“You can pray for peace in the Middle East, but don’t protest the genocide of Palestinians by Israel and the United States.”

“You can preach salvation, but not liberation.”
“You can feed the hungry, but you can’t ask why they’re hungry in the first place.”

“You can convict souls, but you can’t challenge systems.”

“You can bury the dead, but you shouldn’t question what’s killing them.”

Preacher, your lane is in the sanctuary, not in the public square. And you need to stay in your lane.

Have a bake sale for the underprivileged but keep quiet about the greed of the privileged. Pray for the sick, but don’t talk about a deadly bill that takes away Medicaid from millions. Stock a food pantry, but don’t talk about the government taking away SNAP benefits. Give to charities but don’t ever mention the need to raise the minimum wage. Talk about loving your neighbor, but don’t use the words like “racism” or “white supremacy.” Have programs to support teenagers, but don’t defend trans youth. Just stay in your lane pastor and preach Jesus.

But here’s the thing they don’t seem to understand; the Jesus we preach never stayed in his lane. Yes, he set tables that fed hungry people, but he also flipped tables that fed greedy people. He healed sick bodies, but he also called out sick systems. Jesus worshipped on the sabbath, but he also broke the laws of the sabbath. He continually switched lanes to be on the side of the forgotten, the suffering and the lost.

And today, our gospel lesson invites us to not only leave the lane they want us to stay in, but to reject that lane as a lie. It encourages us not to shrink our witness today, but to expand it. To sit like Mary, in those places they said we are not allowed.

Now, to 21st century ears, this story may sound like a simple story of sibling rivalry, of two sisters in a little family feud about who’s working hard and who’s hardly working.

 But when we put this story in the context of first-century Palestine, we understand that it’s really a story about what happens when one refuses to be confined to the lane they have been assigned by the culture.

Martha was doing exactly what society expected of her. She was in her lane, in the kitchen, preparing to serve her male guest, a young Rabbi named Jesus.

And Mary?

Mary was in the living room audaciously sitting down at the feet of this Rabbi to listen to what he had to say. I say “audaciously” because only disciples were permitted to sit at the feet of a Jewish Rabbi. And disciples were always, without exception, male.

Thus, in sitting down at the feet of Jesus, Mary demonstrated a refusal to stay in the lane society had given her. She made it her business where they said she had no business. She challenged the status quo in a society that wanted her quiet and invisible, or busy and distracted in the kitchen.

And Jesus?

He doesn’t correct her. He doesn’t scold her. And he doesn’t just defend her. Jesus applauds her. Jesus not only allows it, he affirms it, saying: “Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken from her.”

Jesus saw the system. He knew the expectations. He understood that Mary was way out of line. And still, he said: “This is what discipleship looks like.” Mary found God’s holy purpose not by staying in line, but by stepping out of line.

And so does the church. Throughout history, the Church has always been at its best when it refuses to be silent, when it organizes, protests, speaks truth, and shows up, when the Church understands that it is not called to a civic club to just manage injustice with thoughts, prayers, and charity. But called to be a holy movement interrupting injustice by getting into some good trouble.

The Church has always been more aligned with who God has called it to be when we get out of line and, yes, are criticized for being too political.

Such criticism only affirms we’re aligned with a gospel that is inherently political, because it’s good news for the poor, it’s freedom for the oppressed, and it’s justice for the left out and left behind.

There’s nothing partisan about the gospel we proclaim. It’s not owned by any political party. It belongs to the poor. It belongs to the marginalized. It belongs to the sick, to the disabled, to the oppressed, to the most vulnerable among us.

I know things are bad in the world right now. But think of how much worse things would be if the peace-makers and the justice-seekers of our history stayed in their lane— if Frederick Douglas and Sojourner Truth obeyed their slave masters, if Harriet Tubman didn’t go underground, if Fannie Lou Hamer never publicly proclaimed she was “sick and tired of being sick and tired!” Where would this country be today if Martin Luther King Jr. only preached about Jesus inside the four walls of his church, or if Rosa Parks got up and moved to the back of that bus, or if Joseph McNeil, Franklin McCain, Ezell Blair Jr., and David Richmond never sat down at a Woolworth lunch counter in Greensboro, North Carolina, or if Rev. David and Kaye Edwards, pastors of the First Christian Church in the Lynchburg, Virginia stopped talking about the church’s to be Open and Affirming in the 1990’s when some of the members told them they were out of line?

But thank God they each understood that being disciples of Jesus in a world misaligned with will of God, meant they were called step out of line.  And when they were criticized for stepping into the wrong lane, they rose up and they said: “No, I’m in my lane, for my lane is unconditional love, my lane is mercy, my lane is justice, my lane is emancipation and liberation, my lane is equality and solidarity, because my lane is Jesus, the one who never stayed in any of the lanes the empire gave him!”

Thank God they each understood that Mary chose the better part by sitting down in a place the religious culture did not want her to sit, choosing truth over tradition, choosing the lane Jesus called her into over the one the patriarchy assigned her to. And Jesus says, “It will not be taken from her.”

So church, we’ve got a choice today.

Do we stand in the lane that will make the privileged more comfortable? Or do we sit down in holy protest and say: “We’re choosing the better part and nobody’s going to take that away from us!”

We’re boldly choosing to preach God’s Truth when the world tells us to be quiet. We’re audaciously choosing to leave the sanctuary to show up in in city halls, on protest lines, at silent vigils, detention centers, homeless shelters, and school board meetings. We’re courageously choosing the gospel of Jesus over the comfort of religious respectability. We’re fearlessly choosing to get in some “good, necessary trouble.”

We’re choosing to follow Jesus—not the version wrapped in stars and stripes—but the one who broke bread with the outcasts and flipped the tables of those who were part of an unholy alliance of greed, religion, and nationalism.

So, let them say we need to stay in our lane.
Let them say we’re too political.
Let them say we’re too bold, too loud, too much.

Because I’d rather be too much for fascism than too little for Jesus!

Mary chose the better part. And so must we. And Jesus says: It will not be taken from us.

It’s sad to me that the ones who want to take it from us also claim to follow Jesus. So, when they tell us to stay in our lane, we need to remind them that Jesus never stayed in his lane.

Jesus left heaven to walk with the poor.
He healed on the Sabbath.
He touched the untouchable.

He offered belonging to outcasts.
He fed the hungry without a permit.

He provided healthcare without a copay.
He overturned tables in the temple of injustice.

And if Jesus didn’t stay in his lane, as followers of Jesus, neither can we.

So, when they tell you that politics isn’t any of the church’s business—
You remind them that the prophets spoke truth to the kings.
That Moses stood in Pharaoh’s face.
That Esther interrupted the empire.
That Mary sang a song so radical, it brought down the mighty from their thrones.

When they try to tame your gospel, shrink your God, or soften your truth,
You lift your voice like a trumpet!
You say, “We were not baptized in front of all those people just to keep our faith in the closet!”
We were not called by Jesus to conform to the culture.
And we were not filled with the Holy Spirit so we could keep privileged folks comfortable.

So, Church let’s go and cross a line for love!
Run out of bounds into some good trouble for justice!

Refuse the script. Interrupt business as usual!
Feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and tear up the blueprint of empire!

Walk, stand, and sit with the audacity of Mary!

Because when we’re out of line, when they’re begging us to stay in our lane, we are most aligned with our Holy purpose!

 Amen.

When Jesus Falls Out of Favor (and nearly off a cliff!)

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C1 Comment

Luke 4:14-30 NRSV

Once upon a time, in a land far away, but not so different from our own, excitement was in the air as folks began gathering in the narthex, sipping their coffee. Everyone was looking forward to the sermon. Because today, they had a special guest preacher!

Many were just glad to have a break from listening to their pastor who they’ve had to now put up with for a year and a half. But some were really looking forward to hearing one of their own, someone who had moved away, made a name for himself, and made them proud. He had come back home for a visit and had been asked by the Elders to fill the pulpit.

No one paid attention as the announcements were being made. In the pews, heads moved and necks stretched, as everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of their hometown pride and joy.

After the Children’s Moment and the Pastoral Prayer, the young man stood up in the pulpit.

“Look! There he is!”

“My, hasn’t he grown!”

“He looks just like one of us, with his dark eyes and complexion.”

The worship leader handed him a scroll. He unrolled it and began reading words from the prophet Isaiah:

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

   because he has anointed me

     to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

   and recovery of sight to the blind,

     to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’

He rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the worship leader, and sat down. All were smiling as he had just read one of their favorite scripture passages.

It is then, that he stood back up and dropped the mic by declaring: ‘Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing!’

Countless amens could be heard throughout the sanctuary. One congregant shouted: “Hallelujah!” Another exclaimed, “Praise Jesus!” Another said, “I wished he was our full-time pastor!”

Everyone was pleased as they could be! Because the scripture he read was being fulfilled for them. Good news for the poor meant good news for them, because they didn’t consider themselves to be among the rich oligarchs that were in power.

And because they were living in an occupied territory, release to the captives, meant liberation for them!

Because they had lost hope and had a difficult time seeing anyway forward, recovery of sight to the blind meant recovery of hope for them!

And because they felt oppressed by the Romans, freedom for the oppressed meant freedom for them!

So, amen, brother! Preach it!

They could not have been more enthusiastic with their hometown hero! All throughout the sanctuary, you could hear proud comments like: “Why isn’t that Joseph’s oldest boy?”

After the choir sang the anthem, the young preacher stands back up, takes a sip of water, and begins the sermon: “There’s no doubt many of you will say: ‘Doctor, cure yourself.’ ‘Do here also here in your hometown the things that we heard you do Capernaum.’”

“That’s right!” someone shouted!

Another yells: “Charity begins at home!”

Someone else screams, “America First!” (I mean, “Israel First!”)

On the edge of their seats, their ears are itching to hear what their hometown boy had to say next!

It is then he says something like: “You know that no prophet is accepted in his hometown

Someone cupped their hands to their mouth and shouted: “We’ll always accept you Jesus!”

Another yelled: “That’s right! You are one of us!”

Still another shouted: “We’re with you all the way!”

He takes another sip of water and then begins to proclaim that Isaiah’s prophetic vision of good news, liberation, recovery of sight, and freedom is not for them only, or even for them first. It is for everyone, maybe even especially for those who need it the most, folks that may not be from around here

In the congregation, shoulders tense, and heads turn. More comments could be heard, but the enthusiastic tone becomes disconcerting: “Wait a minute! I know he’s not talking about diversity, equity, and inclusion, is he?”

Jesus, though, is undaunted by the sudden aggravation in the air, because he wasn’t there to win a popularity contest or to scratch itching ears. He’s  there to tell the truth, even if that truth is unsettling, because Jesus knows that the truth of God’s inclusive and equitable love, as offensive as it may be, is the only way to create a more peaceful and just world.

Jesus then reminded the congregation why the prophets are never popular in their hometown by referring to two stories, one about the prophet Elijah and one about the prophet Elisha.

“You remember Elijah, don’t you? And the story of those three and half years it hardly rained a drop, causing a severe famine throughout the region? Now there were countless widows living in Israel during that time who were starving to death. But God didn’t send the prophet Elijah to help any widows in Israel. No, instead, God sent the prophet to save a widow in Lebanon.”

Apart from a few gasps, the congregation fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“And you remember the prophet, Elisha? There were many lepers suffering in Israel, but instead sending the prophet to heal those in Israel of their disease, God sent Elisha to heal a leper in Syria.”

The sanctuary exploded! People rose to their feet. Some began shaking their fists in the air.

How dare he say that the blessings of God extend beyond our borders, to other cultures and ethnicities!

The audacity he has to say that God’s mercy, justice, and freedom are not just those of us who have the proper papers or the right genes!

And how dare he infer that God may even favor someone from Lebanon or from Syria, over us!

The unmitigated gall he has to say that this scripture is fulfilled in our hearing, but not fulfilled for us!

Overcome with rage, the congregation turns on Jesus.

Some demand an apology.

Others call his words “ungracious,” his tone “nasty.” And his service “boring.”

One accused him of being a left-wing lunatic who was bringing woke politics into the synagogue!

Someone else cried: “Deport him!” Another shouted: “Send him to Guantanamo Bay!”

They become so angry that before Jesus is able to finish the sermon, they chase him out of the sanctuary and run him clear out of town right to the edge of a cliff. But he doesn’t fall off the cliff. He somehow sneaks through the crown and escapes.

How quickly had Jesus fallen out of favor and nearly off a cliff!

But that’s the world in which we live—a world where empathy is considered a sin. Because empathy involves loving our neighbor—not the just ones who live next door, but the ones who live in Lebanon and Syria, in Mexico, Gaza, Columbia, Cuba, and Venezuela—as much as we love ourselves.

The word “freedom” has always been a threatening word when it is applied to a group people that another group of people deem “other” or “less.”

 “Diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion” have always been offensive words to those who want good things for themselves only, or at least, for themselves first. Equality can feel like oppression to those accustomed to privilege. And in our nation, that means that the angry mobs have historically been white people.

It was only a little over 60 years ago, a time that those currenlty in power are trying to take us back to, empathetic people from all over the United States traveled to the South to take a stand for the civil rights of all people. Some were called Freedom Riders, as they rode buses throughout the South to nonviolently resist unjust Jim Crow laws.

Like the time Jesus preached freedom for the other in the synagogue, an angry mob formed. And on Mother’s Day in 1961, in Anniston, Alabama, 50 white men, many of them religious, attacked a Greyhound bus carrying black and white Freedom Riders with pipes, chains, and bats. They smashed windows, slashed tires, and beat the sides of the bus to terrorize the Freedom Riders who were inside.

Once the attack subsided, with the Freedom Riders still on board, the police pretended to escort the damaged bus to safety, but instead they abandoned it just outside the Anniston city limits.

Another armed mob surrounded the bus and began breaking more windows. The Freedom Riders refused to exit the bus and received no aid from two highway patrolmen who were watching nearby. When a member of the mob tossed a firebomb through a broken bus window, others in the mob attempted to trap the passengers inside by barricading the doors of the bus.

The mob fled when they feared the fuel tank was about to explode. Somehow, the Riders were able to escape the ensuing flames, only to be attacked and beaten as they exited the burning bus.[i]

Kindness, grace, and compassion have always made people wickedly angry when it is applied to outsiders. Some people have always called empathy a “sin,” because empathy involves caring for someone other than yourself, or other than “your” people. Thus, the powers of wickedness have always tried to trump the power of love. Darkness has always sought to overcome light.

The good news is that darkness is no match for even a little bit of light, and love always wins. The good news is that Jesus did not fall off that cliff, and through the resurrected body of Christ, he is still alive and preaching in our world today.

I know that it may feel like we are standing at the edge of a great cliff. Our feet may be slipping as the rocks move under our feet. Some of us have slipped, and our feet are dangling over the edge. We’re barely hanging on. But we are not falling.

Somehow, someway, as Jesus escaped those angry worshippers who chased him to an edge of a cliff outside the city limits of Nazareth, and as the Freedom Riders escaped that bus set on fire outside the city limits of Anniston, Alabama, we too have escaped.

 We are still here. Jesus and his followers may have fallen out of favor with the powers-that-be, but we have not fallen off the cliff!

And despite the opposition in our nation today, the intimidation in our state today, and the hostility in our city today, we are still proclaiming good news today, not just for ourselves, but for all people.

We are still committed as ever to fulfilling the promises of God for black and brown people—

Proclaiming God’s liberation for non-binary and transgendered people—

Proclaiming God’s freedom for undocumented people, asylum seekers, refugees, migrants, and victims of war.

And proclaiming a hopeful vision of God’s peace and justice—

God’s empathetic vision of mercy and compassion—God’s prophetic vision of diversity, equity, and inclusion—shining our lights so all can see it!

The dark winds of wickedness are howling, but our candles are still burning!

On the edge of a cliff, we may feel we are barely hanging on today. We may have fallen out of favor. But we are not falling off! Say it with me: We are not falling off! Amen.

[i] https://calendar.eji.org/racial-injustice/may/14

Hope Is in Our Gut

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

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

The disciples were sharing with Jesus all they have been doing while they were out on the road publicly being the church, proclaiming the way of love that Jesus taught and embodied. They were telling Jesus all they have been doing to make the world more peaceful, equitable, and just for all people, especially for the poor and those marginalized by sick religion and greedy politics, and for foreigners, including Samaritans. They were telling Jesus all they have been doing to make sure the hungry were fed, strangers were welcomed, and the sick received healthcare.

And, while they were sharing with Jesus, they must have looked like some of us are looking these days: exhausted, frustrated, and even afraid.

Because like in Jesus’ day, the times we live in are serious. The threats are critical. The dangers are real. The call for mass deportations of immigrants grows louder. Fascism grows more popular, while democracy loses favor. Sixty years of civil rights progress is being threatened. The rights women have enjoyed for fifty years have been taken away. The very identity of our nation is at risk. People today who claim to follow Jesus seem to be opposed to everything for which Jesus stood.  And we the people, we who are trying to follow Jesus, are tired and afraid.

Jesus looks at the weary disciples and says: “Come away to a deserted place and rest a while.” Then, they boarded a boat and went on a cruise.

Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? That we could all just go to some place to get away from it all. How nice would it take a cruise for the next six months!

I remember that’s exactly what I did after one presidential election. For three months, I disengaged and withdrew from everything happening in Washington. From November to February, I avoided all news. If Lori was watching MSNBC in the living room, I would ask her to turn the channel before I walked into the room.

Unlike the disciples, I didn’t own a boat, but I did have something they didn’t. I had cable TV and something magical called ESPN!  So, I put my head in the sand by focusing all of my attention on basketball and football. I did whatever I could do to pretend that nothing bad had happened world, that none of my friends felt threatened or lost. For three months, my best friend was denial.

But notice what happened to Jesus and the disciples when they tried to get away from it all. As soon as the people saw them board the boat, they spread the word and hurried to Jesus’ port of arrival ahead of them.

Jesus sees the great crowd, and (here’s the good news) he has “compassion for them.”

To truly understand this good news, we need to know something about this rich Greek word in this verse translated “compassion” It is σπλαγχνίζομαι (splanch-nizo-mai).

It is a visceral word which literally means to feel something deep in the gut. When Jesus sees the crowd that had gathered and that the people seemed lost and felt threatened, like sheep without a shepherd, his concern for them is gut-wrenching. The fear and needs of the people turns his stomach.

So, he and the disciples immediately go back to work, proclaiming good news to the poor, recovery of the sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed, while opening up a free clinic for everyone onsite!

As I said last month, we all need a Sabbath. We all need a little time away. But for the follower of Jesus, our time away will always be short-lived, because when we are following Jesus, when we are out on the road with Jesus in the public square, when heads are out of the sand, when our eyes are wide-open in the world, we will always see a great crowd in need: people who are hungry for food and for dignity, hungry for their lives to matter; people who are thirsting for water and for equality, thirsting to be seen as the image of God.

And when we really get to know them, when walk in their shoes, when we understand where they are coming from, their pain will be like punch in our own gut. Our stomachs will turn. And experiencing gut-wrenching pain, we will be stirred to love-inspired action.

I have heard and I have said that our nation has “an empathy crisis.” But I am beginning to believe that might not be the case. Because, I believe most all human beings were born with the capacity for empathy. Of course, there are few exceptions— those with dark, narcissistic tendencies, those whose hearts have been hardened by fear, greed and selfishness. But I do not believe they are not the majority.

And this, I believe, is the good news. This is our hope. The hope is in our guts. The hope is that most people have really do have the capacity for empathy which leads them to love.

For example, when most people read Lori and my story of losing our first child, when half-way into the pregnancy we discovered the baby did not have an abdominal cavity to protect their organs, leading us to make the difficult and painful decision to abort the pregnancy, most people demonstrate great empathy. Our personal story moves them. Reading our story, people have said they felt our pain. They shared our grief. Some told me that our story changed their position on abortion, or it confirmed their belief that the decision to terminate a pregnancy should be left up to the woman and not to a government that is unfamiliar with the situation.

However, there are a few people who continue to shock me with their cold-heartedness. Just last week on Facebook, someone I have not seen since high school, and to be honest, I don’t remember seeing her then, commenting on our story, called Lori “a murderer.” Can you believe that?

Which in my mind immediately raised the question about my high school classmate: “Is her heart really that cold? How can anyone’s heart, or gut, be so callous? To call Lori “a murderer?”

 But it occurred to me. The odds are that this woman is not a sociopath. Her problem is that she just doesn’t know Lori. And she certainly doesn’t know me very well. For everyone who truly knows us knows that if Lori was a murderer, I would have been dead a long time ago!

So, maybe our nation does not have so much of an empathy crisis as we have a proximity crisis. We have a too-many-people-living-in-a-bubble crisis. A too-many-people-tempted-to-keep-their-heads-in-the-sand crisis.

For too many have gone away to some deserted place with people who look like them and think like them in order to escape from anyone who is different or has lived a different experience.

Because if we truly knew one another, if we put ourselves in the proximity to understand one another, to know others as we know ourselves, personally, intimately, then our gut would prevent us from ever hurting another. We would feel it in our gut to truly love our neighbors as we love ourselves, which means to want for others the same protections, the same freedom, and the same justice that we want for ourselves.

Since I have been living in Lynchburg, I have been in awe of my colleague Rev. Dan Harrison’s great compassion for the Palestinian people. Dan seems to possess a passionate outspokenness for the Palestinians which is greater than mine. He seems to possess more of an urgency to loudly speak out for their humanity in Israel’s war with Hamas than I possess.

Could his heart be a bit softer than mine? Is he a more devout follower of Jesus than me? Perhaps. But I believe it is more likely because Dan has lived in that region of the world. It is because Dan has very close friends who are Palestinian. He knows their experience, because he has lived their experience. Dan has literally walked in their shoes. He knows them and understands them, personally and intimately. And when they are afraid, when they feel dehumanized, and otherized, Dan feels it in his gut. And he is stirred to action.

Dan would say that he is not more devout. He is just in more pain. And he is in that pain because of proximity.

I believe most of us have what we need in our guts to save us and to save democracy. We don’t need more capacity for empathy. What we need is to rediscover the power of proximity.

That is why, that no matter how dark things get, we must resist the temptation to withdraw completely from our world, to go off to some deserted place with people like us, to get away from all others, to completely disengage from the world and all of its problems, to turn off the news and immerse ourselves with ESPN, Hulu or Netflix, to stick our heads in the sand and ignore our neighbors who feel lost, keeping them out of sight, out of mind. For withdrawing only adds to our nation’s crisis of proximity.

Jesus didn’t feel like he was punched in the gut on that boat. Mark says he felt the gut-wrenching pain as soon as he “saw the crowds.”

After decades of supporting the Christian Right, ghostwriting autobiographies for Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, Rev. Dr. Mel White came out of the closet writing his own autobiography Stranger at the Gate in 1994 and then became a full-time minster to the LGBTQIA+ community. In his latest book, Religion Gone Bad, Mel White issues a warning of the dangers of Christian Nationalism and its critical threat it is to democracy.

I love the stories of Mel White attending worship services at Thomas Road Baptist Church. I am told whenever Rev. Falwell would disparage queer people in a sermon, Rev. White would stand up so the entire congregation, including Falwell, would see him. Avoiding seeing Rev. White, standing tall and proud confronting the hate, was not an option for anyone.

The world today is a scary place, but for the follower of Jesus, sitting down is not an option. Getting on a boat to go on a cruise for the next six months may sound tempting, but for the follower of Jesus, it’s not an option.

Retreating, withdrawing and disengaging— it’s not an option.

Denial is not an option.

Being quiet on social media is not an option.

Avoiding talking about religion and politics with our family and friends because making them uncomfortable will stir up some trouble is not an option.

The times are too serious. The threat is too critical. The dangers are too real. And if you are a follower of Jesus, now is the time to get into some trouble, some good trouble.

Avoidance, politeness, moderation, even tolerance— it’s not an option. Now is the time for all who believe that the best thing we can do as humans to love our neighbors as ourselves to rise up with Mel White and stand tall allowing others to see and experience our suffering in their guts, which will then hopefully stir them to love-inspired action.

         This is our hope. It’s in our gut. Amen.

I Pledge Allegiance

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short ArticlesLeave a comment

Poor People's CampaignDelivered at the Introduction Meeting of the Poor People’s Campaign at First Christian Church in Fort Smith AR, May 6, 2018

I

In America, I as an individual,have certain inalienable rights. As an individual citizen of this country, I have freedom. And with that freedom, I have a great responsibility. I have a voice. I have a vote, and I have the responsibility to make this country the very best that it can be. And that includes keeping our water safe, our air clean and our land pure.

Pledge allegiance

Our allegiance does not mean blindly accepting our faults, never questioning our past, and never second-guessing how current policies will affect our future. Allegiance means faithfully doing our part to “mend thine every flaw.”

It means being loyal, law-abiding citizens committed to our civic duty of voting in elections. However, it also means voicing opposition to laws that need to be changed and to elected officials who need be corrected. Civil allegiance sometimes means civil disobedience.

Like a faithful marriage, pledging allegiance means being loyal to our country in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, never giving up, never becoming complacent, never running away. It means perpetually praying for it, continually correcting it, forever fighting for it.

To the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands

The flag is not a mere sign for our country. It is the profound symbol of our country. Signs are limited as signs only give information. Signs do not have the power to stand for something. Only symbols can do that. Whereas signs invoke intellectual responses from the brain, symbols elicit visceral emotions from the heart and gut. This is the reason seeing the Confederate Battle Flag flying on the back of motorcycles this weekend turned my stomach. The flag is not a mere historical marker, label, design or brand but a powerful symbol that stands for something. Flags have the power to move us, stir us, and guide us.

One nation

Our flag stands for one nation. Although heritage and culture are important aspects of life in different parts of our country, they are never more important than the unity of our country. Abraham Lincoln and Jesus spoke truth when they said: “a house divided against its self cannot stand.”

We need to come together not as liberal or conservative, republican or democrat but simply as Americans who believe we can do better and be better.

Under God

Not under God because we are down here and God is up there. Not under God because we want some sort of theocracy like the belief of ISIS and other Islamic extremists. And not under God because we believe we were established to be a Christian nation like the beliefs of Christian extremists.

Rather, we pledge our allegiance to country under, after, second to, our allegiance to the law of God.

As people of faith, this is why our allegiance is not blind. The Commander-in-Chief is not our chief commander. The Supreme Court is not our supreme being. Our allegiance is first pledged to something that is bigger than our nation, even larger than our world.

It is an allegiance that informs our vote, rallies our civic duties, admonishes our obedience to civil law, and yet, sometimes calls us to civil disobedience. For the Christian, it is the God revealed through the words and works of Jesus who becomes our civil conscience. We believe the law of God revealed through Christ supersedes every human law.

Immediately following words from the Apostle Paul regarding good citizenship and obeying the law, we read that every one of God’s laws is summed up in just one law: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus said it this way: “On this hang all of the laws of the prophets “…that you love your neighbor as yourself.”

And just in case some are still confused to what “love” is, Paul defines love by saying: “Love does no harm to a neighbor.”

Jesus said, “There is no law greater.” It is as if Christ is saying, “If you don’t get anything else from Holy Scripture, you need to get this: ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’” Yet, as evidenced by the amount of hatred, racism and violence that is in our nation today, much of it propagated in the name of God, this supreme law is widely ignored, disobeyed or rejected all together.

I believe it is when we first pledge our allegiance to this supreme law, that we have the opportunity to be a great nation. For when we love our neighbors as ourselves, when in everything we do to others as we would have them do to us, it quickly becomes “self-evident that all people are created equal with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Indivisible

When we pledge allegiance to the supreme law of God, when we pledge to love our neighbors as ourselves, we promise to work together under God to build bridges to overcome the gaps and barriers that we have created that divide us: racial, sexual, ethnic, political, economic, educational and religious. We pledge to come together, side by side, hand in hand, for the equality of all people and the inalienable rights of all people.

This does not mean that we are to never disagree with the beliefs or lifestyles of others. We can certainly love our neighbor while disagreeing with our neighbor. It is not hating our neighbor when we disagree with the flag that our neighbor flies; however, when we infringe on their life, their liberty, and their pursuit of happiness by supporting public policies or actions that treat them as second-class citizens, that do harm to our neighbor, that keep the poor poor while keeping the rich richer, it is certainly not loving our neighbor as we love ourselves. As our 44thPresident said in the eulogy of Rev. Clementa Pinckney: “…justice grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other. [Our] liberty depends on [our neighbors] being free, too.”

With liberty and justice for all.

We pledge to work for freedom and fairness not just for our educated, rich neighbor who can afford the best attorneys, and not just for our advantaged, abled-bodied and able-minded straight, white, Christian, English-speaking neighbors. We pledge ourselves to stand for liberty and justice for all. And according to the Abrahamic faiths, “all” especially includes foreigners, minorities, the poor, the differently-abled, all those who have been pushed to the margins.

All even includes people of every nation. For our love and our mission to stand for liberty and justice have no borders.

In response to a call to include the rights of the LGBTQ community as civil rights, one of my friends raised the following question on Facebook, and to avoid being obscene, I am going to paraphrase: “They only represent 2% of the population. Why do they matter?”

This was not just one lone, ugly, hateful voice, but one that was representative of the sentiment of many.

“They only make up 2% of the population. Why do they matter?”

For the Christian who pledges his or her allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all: LGBTQ+ lives matter; Black lives matter; Poor People’s lives matter, because according to everything for which this flag stands under the supreme law of the God of love, all lives will never matter, until all finally means all.