Tag: justice

Far from the Shallow Now

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

Luke 5:1-11 NRSV

One morning, Jesus is preaching down at the lake. The crowd that had gathered is so large, Jesus felt like they were about to push him right into the water!

During the sermon, he sees two boats belonging to some fishermen who were on shore washing their nets. He gets into the boat belonging to Simon, and he asks Simon to anchor the boat a little way from the shore, where he continues his sermon.

Luke doesn’t record the words to Jesus’ sermon, but from his sermon in the very next chapter, we could probably take a good guess: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Love everyone, even your enemies…” It’s a sermon of abundant mercy, extravagant grace, and boundless love!

After the sermon, Jesus tells Simon that he wants to do a little bit of fishing himself: “Let’s leave these shallow waters and let down the nets.”

Simon responds: “Master, with all due respect, I, along with my long-time business associates, James and John, have fished these waters all night long, and we haven’t caught a thing. Yet, if it will make you happy, I will go out a little deeper and put down the nets.”

Well, as soon as the nets hit the water, they catch so many fish that the nets begin to break. They quickly call out to James and John to get the other boat and offer them a hand.  And when they come, they fill the boats with so many fish that both boats begin to sink.

As Simon takes in the overwhelming scene— nets breaking, boats sinking, fish everywhere, a scene of failure and scarcity transformed into triumph and abundance, a scene of what can happen when you leave the shallow to dive into something deeper, what can be experienced when you obey the commands of Jesus—Simon is overwhelmed, and falling down at Jesus’ knees, he says: “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

It was as if Simon suddenly realized that it only seemed that Jesus was finished with his sermon that day. Jesus may be fishing, but he is still preaching. Through the abundant catch of fish, Jesus is still proclaiming God’s abundant mercy, extravagant grace, and boundless love. Believing he is underserving of such love, how unworthy he is of such abundance, Simon asks Jesus to go away.

But Jesus never goes away easily. “Simon, not only are you worthy to receive the abundant, extravagant, over-the-top love of God, you are worthy to share it with others and change this world! So, do not be afraid; for you are no longer going to be catching fish, you are going to be catching people!”

“I am asking you, Simon, along with your business partners James and John, to leave your shallow, contained, little world to venture out with me into a deeper, larger, revolutionary reality.

The truth is, Simon, I need you to go deeper. I need as many people as I can get to go deeper. The problems of the world are too great, and your lives are too short to waste any time wading in the shallow. And the grace of God is too extravagant. The mercy of God is too abundant. The love of God is too boundless for you to keep your it all to yourselves.

I need you to leave your shallow, safe world of spending all your time making a living to meet the needs of your immediate family, and I need you follow me into the deep, risky reality of sacrificing your time to meet the needs of the entire human family!

I need you to leave your shallow life that feeds you, and your children, and accept a deeper life that helps feed every child of God!

I need you to move beyond your shallow, narrow mission of caring for your own home, and accept the deeper, wider mission of caring for the entire planet!

I need you to lose the apathy towards issues that do not concern you and your limited of circle of family and friends to possess a deep empathy towards all who experience injustice!

I need you to move beyond your shallow understanding of success. Simon, no matter what you have been taught, success is not defined by the amount of fish you catch, or the size of your house or back account. It is so much deeper than that!

Your success is measured by how many people you loved extravagantly, abundantly, and graciously.

I need you to go deeper, Simon. You too, James and John, and be my disciples and fish for people. Do the hard, messy, oftentimes frustrating, and risky work to meet the needs of people, to care for and to liberate people. I need you to move far from the shallow now to do the deep work of love. And I am not talking about personal and intimate love, but a love that has public and political ramifications.

Now, here’s what I believe is the real miracle in this story. We read it in verse 11. After Jesus invited them to leave the shallow for something deeper, to leave the fish business to be in the people business we read: “When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.”

This is miraculous because when it came to accepting the extravagant grace and love of God revealed in the large catch of fish, Simon, seemed to have some difficulty: “Get out of here, Jesus! I am a sinful man!”

However, when it comes to following Jesus to a deeper life, to love others to selflessly and sacrificially, extravagantly and liberally, he, with James and John, leave everything and follow.

This is miraculous, because it is the exact opposite of how we humans usually work. We seem to have no problem accepting the grace of God for ourselves. We have no issues receiving the love of God for us personally. But we prefer to keep it shallow. We prefer to keep it personal. We prefer to keep it safe, keep it contained, keep it conservatively to ourselves. We are almost always reluctant to go deeper.

Because going deeper is dangerous. Going deeper is costly, and it is risky. Going deeper can be overwhelming. In the deep, fish break our nets and people break our hearts. Going deeper may mean leaving our friends and family behind.

I want to thank Katie Nunn for sharing her talent with us by creating this extravagant artwork that is adorning our baptistry today. When she first thought of this idea, which to me, speaks to the abundant and extravagant love we are called to share with others, she said she was tempted to think that the art might be “too far out” for church. But then, thinking about what this church means to her and to others, she thought, when it comes to love, for this church, there’s no such thing as being “too far out.”

In other words, Katie has joined a congregation of disciples, who, with Simon, James, and John, when it comes to love, have chosen to go deep, to go far out from the shallow.

We are disciples who have decided to go on a journey to share the abundant mercy, extravagant grace, and liberating love of God with all people, all the while knowing the journey will not be easy, comfortable, or popular.

Late author and professor John Augustus Shedd once said: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” And today, we are on a ship with Jesus. He is the captain who navigates our journey out of the harbor into deep, dark, and dangerous waters.

The darkness of these days, like deep water, requires more than a shallow response. The times are too serious, and our time is too short, to waste any amount of time playing around in the shallow.

When the president makes an executive order to “eradicate” any opposition to the sick religion of White Christian Nationalism or the cult of MAGA, while disparaging any religious thought that calls for mercy and compassion, empathy, and equality, we must go deeper.

When the tax status of non-profits and institutions that serve the common good are threatened, when aid to the poorest people in the world is cut off, our stewardship practices, our civic engagement and our commitments need to go deeper.

When houses of worship receive warnings by the government that sanctuary provided to the immigrant will not be honored, that we may be targeted, our commitment to the word of God “to treat the foreigner living among us as native born, to love them as ourselves” gets called into the deep (Leviticus 19:34).

When programs designed to celebrate diversity, create equity, and foster inclusion are eliminated in favor of protecting the privileged, our faith compels us to go into the depths of human solidarity and belonging.

So, if you have come here this morning because you want to dip your toes in the safe shallow end of the pool, to wade, splash around, and enjoy yourselves, to nourish your private, personal relationship with the Lord, to remain neutral when it comes to public policy and politics that hurts the poor and the marginalized, then I am afraid, you have come to the wrong place! We don’t even have a kiddie pool for children in this place, as we are even training them to swim in the deep end.

Because we know that a shallow, safe, personal, and private faith, a faith that has the sole purpose to feed one personally, allows children to starve, and the entire creation to hunger.

A shallow faith allows the spread of a false gospel that is unconcerned with the living conditions of anyone else living on the earth as well as the state of the earth itself.

Shallow faith enables false prophets to reject Jesus, or worse, to act in ways that are the antithesis of Jesus, ways that are anti-Christ, and still claim they are following Jesus.

Shallow faith is afraid to enter into the depths of human suffering and oppression. It finds contentment inwardly, in one’s own family, job, possessions, and even church.

Shallow faith is afraid to rock the boat, afraid of losing a friend or upsetting a co-worker or family member.

Shallow faith is afraid of the sacrifices and the changes that need to be made.

And sadly, church is where people can be the most afraid, and thus the most shallow, the most small-minded and the most close-minded, the most self-interested and self-preserving

But the good news is that church can also be the place where people can be the most courageous, a place where we are challenged to be more open, more selfless, and more self-expending, where we are pulled by Jesus into the deep, dark, and dangerous places, far from the shallow.

To those difficult places where we have a deep conversation with that climate change-denier or anti-vaxer. Where we go out of our way to help an asylum seeker. Where we contact our legislatures to object to the wicked assault on trans people. Where we call out racism and white supremacy wherever we see it, on the school board, the city council, even in our own families.

The good news is that the First Christian ship of Lynchburg, Virginia has left the harbor. Jesus is our captain. And we are far from the shallow now! Amen.

A Crowded Table

On 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.

Let’s Get Physical

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year BLeave a comment
Poor People’s Campaign June 29, 2024 in Washington DC to Support Poor and Low-Income People

Mark 5:21-43 NRSV

Yesterday, I had the privilege of escorting Betty Anne and Nancy to Washington DC for a rally of the Poor People’s Campaign. As we were crossing a street on the way back to the Metro Station, I heard Nancy say: “Betty Anne, watch your step on this curb.”

I responded, “Yes, Betty Anne! I forgot to go over the rules with the both of you for this trip. Rule number one is no falling. Nobody is allowed to fall on this trip!” And I admit I said it because both of them are not as young as they used to be.

Then, you know what happened next. I tripped over a loose brick in the sidewalk all 6’4” of my old self ended up laying, bruised and scraped up in some bushes.

As I was trying to reorient myself, I felt the hands of Betty Anne and Nancy on my shoulder and I felt this other hand touch my arm, and heard a strange voice with a foreign accent asking me to take her arm. As I did, this stranger pulled me back to my feet and, in a kind voice, asked me if I was ok.

It is hard to explain it, but something very hopeful, even spiritual happened in that physical encounter.

Thus, it is no surprise to me to learn that our God is a God who uses the physical as a means of grace. Today’s scripture lesson, with its repeated theme of physical touching, is a perfect example.

Through the act of touching, a woman is made whole, and God’s healing power is released.

Through the power of the physical touch, barriers of society and tradition are crossed. Rules and laws are broken. The woman in the story is unnamed and ceremonially unclean. It is against the rules to touch her, and it is against the rules for her to touch another. Then, notice what happens after the woman breaks the law by reaching out and touching Jesus.

Jesus asks, “Who touched me?” And desiring to connect with the woman who touched him, he reaches out and touches her. He commends her faith and calls her “daughter.” Through the grace of physical touch, the woman who was once unclean has been made whole. And the woman who was once unnamed has become a child of God.

In the second part of the story, like the woman with the hemorrhage, this the corpse of the girl is ritually unclean. Touching a corpse is against the rules. Yet, Jesus reaches out and touches the girl’s body nevertheless. In taking the girl’s hand, in touching the girl, Jesus reaches across the boundaries of society, but also boundaries of death. And her life is restored.

About twenty years ago, I attended a conference for pastors at Princeton University in New Jersey with two good friends of mine who were both serving as pastors at the time in North and South Carolina. During our free time one day, we Carolina boys thought it would be exciting to board a train and visit the Big Apple. Before we left, several frequent travelers New York City who were also attending the conference, gave us some advice.

“When you are in the city, don’t look anyone in the eyes,” they said.  “Don’t speak to anyone. Don’t point, at anyone or anything. If you point at a building, someone may think you are pointing at them, and there may be trouble. And whatever you do, don’t touch anyone. Don’t get close to anyone!”

As we were standing at one intersection in Times Square, waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green so we could cross, I noticed everyone in front of me, looking back over their shoulders. I turned around to see what they were looking at and saw a very elderly man with a long white beard who appeared to be homeless. With one hand on his grocery cart, he was bending down and picking up a slice of pizza off sidewalk. As he walked down the road pushing the grocery cart, he lifted the pizza to his mouth.

“Look, he’s going to eat it,” someone jeered.  But before he could get it to his mouth, he accidently dropped it. The crowd laughed at the poor man as we watched him a second time, pick up the pizza, put it to his mouth only to drop it again. The light turned green, the and off we went.

Later, we were walking up several flights of stairs as we exited the subway.  My friend, Cary was in front of me and my friend, Steve was behind me.

Up ahead, I noticed a frail-looking man struggling to pull a large suitcase up the stairs. As Cary and I walked past the man who grunted with each step dragging the suitcase behind him I thought: “Should I help him?”  “No, he might get the wrong idea, think I’m trying to steal it or something.”  So, I kept walking.

Steve, however, who was a few steps behind us, took a risk. Not knowing if the man even spoke English, he asked, “Do you need some help?” As Steve reached out and touched the end of the suitcase, the man immediately gave Steve a fearful, mean glance. But then, seeing that Steve intended no harm, he smiled. I watched as he smiled most hopeful kind of smile, and said, “thank you.” Steve, picked up the suitcase and helped the man out of the subway. At the top of the stairs, the man reached out his arm, looking like he wanted to hug Steve. He stopped just short of a hug and patted Steve on the back, saying, “Thank you. God bless you.”

Once again, God used the physical as a means of grace.  Steve reached out and touched and the power of God, the amazing grace of Jesus Christ was released.

As long as I live, I’ll always wonder what might have happened if I had purchased that homeless man a fresh slice of pizza.  I’ll always dream of the possibilities of what might have transpired if I ate a slice of pizza with him. I’ll always think of the grace that might of come, the salvation that might have happened, through the simple act of reaching out my hand to that poor man who was struggling to survive.

The critique I heard most about the new expression of church we planted in New Orleans that we called “Just Love” is that we lacked a spiritual emphasis. People would say: “I love your feeding ministry and all of your service projects, but it sounds like you are only interested in meeting people’s physical needs. What about the spiritual?”

During the summer of 2020, I was out on my route delivering hot meals one evening to people who are food-insecure in Abita Springs, Louisiana. I pulled into the driveway of a gentleman to whom I have been delivering meals since the start of the pandemic in March.

As usual, he was sitting on a chair in front of his house waiting for me. I look forward to seeing him each week, and he always looks forward to seeing me. Every time I pull up in front of his house, I hear: “Rev, am I glad to see you!”

As I was handing him a bag containing two meals, a woman approached us on a bicycle. She asked me: “Sir, do you have any extra? I am so hungry.” I replied, “No, but if you give me your name and address, I can add you to my list for the next time I am out here delivering meals.” She responded: “Sir, I don’t have an address.” Then, she started to ride off.

Having just learned she was homeless, I stood there, speechless. That is when the gentlemen who had been sitting out in the heat waiting for me to deliver his food shouted, “Hey! you can have mine!”

I said: “There are two plates in the bag. You both can have one!”

He looked at the bag, and then he held it up to the woman who had stopped her bicycle, and said: “No, I have a can of beans that I can warm up. I will be alright. You take both of these.”

The woman took the bag, thanked the man, and rode away.

The man looked at me and said, “Like you say Rev, just love.” He turned and went inside.

It was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. It was a Holy God moment if there ever was one.

And this, my friends, is what our world needs. We need to reach past all of the barriers that we erect between ourselves and our neighbors— political, religious, racial, ethnic, economic. We need to go out, reach out, and touch them. We need to allow them to touch us. We need to join hands, link arms, rub elbows, and see that we have more things in common than the things that separate us.

And when we do that, something that can only be described as “spiritual” happens. When we touch and connect with others, we touch and connect with God, for we are soon able to see the very image of God in others.

Every Sunday morning, we gather around this table and affirm the grace of the physical. When we consume physical elements of grain and grape, representing the body and blood of Christ, we affirm that we have been touched by God through Christ. We affirm that through his touch, we have been made whole. Through his touch, we have all become children of God.

But more than that, in consuming the body and blood of Christ, affirm that we are the physical body of Christ in this world. Our hands are the hands of Christ. Our hands are holy. Our hands are a means of God’s grace. They have the power to heal this broken world. They have the power to accept, to welcome, to love, and to make this world a better place.

Thus, the simple act of touching—reaching out, connecting, sharing—is profoundly and powerfully spiritual.  It is sacred, and it is holy, perhaps more so if that touch reaches across the barriers of society and tradition.

A little bit of physical exertion to help a neighbor can bring hope. A simple handshake or embrace can bring a peace that is beyond all understanding. Reaching out a hand to an old man lying scaped and bruised in the bushes become a spiritual exercise. Sharing a meal with someone can start a powerful chain reaction of selfless love that changes the world!

When we reach out, touch, connect and share with our neighbors, we can’t and we won’t stay silent when the Supreme Court makes it illegal for a homeless person to sleep on a park bench, when it takes away the healthcare rights of women, or makes it more difficult for anyone to vote.

We can’t and we won’t vote for politicians that hurt LBGTQ people and support policies that marginalize people of other faiths.

And we can’t and we won’t accept poverty as the fourth leading cause of death in this, the richest country in the world.

We must recognize togther that there are dark forces working in our world that do not want us to come together. They use fear to divide us and lies to separate us. Because when we come together, when we touch our neighbors, when we allow our neighbors to touch us, they know that something powerful happens, because love happens. And when love happens, change happens. Grace happens. Empathy happens. Compassion happens.

And votes happen. The general welfare of all the people happens. Solidarity with low wage workers happens. Hospitality to the foreigner happens. A call for a ceasefire and all wars to cease happens. A demand for wealthy corporations to pay their fair share to secure a safety net for the poor and disabled happens. Free fully funded public education happens. Access to quality healthcare happens.

Healing happens. Life happens. Liberty and justice for all finally happens.

Things Are Getting Scary Around Here

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

 Mark 4:35-41 NRSV

There was a great church pianist and composer studying in Chicago who was known throughout the Midwest as Georgia Tom. He was scheduled to help with a revival at a large church in St. Louis about a month before his wife was due to have their first child. He was afraid to leave her so close to the due date, but he was committed to fulfill the promise he made to the church over a year earlier.

As soon as he got off the train in St. Louis, someone handed him a telegram which read: “Congratulations, you are the father of a new baby boy. However, it is with deep regret that we inform you that your wife died during childbirth.”

He boarded the next train back to Chicago. Overcome with grief, he arrived at the hospital to hold his new-born baby in his arms—however, shortly after he arrived, this little boy, the only part of his wife that he would ever be able to hold again, passed away in his sleep.

Georgia Tom took a leave of absence from his studies, and his ministry. He moved to South Carolina where he did little but grieve. It was sixth months before was able to sit down at the piano and compose a song. When he did, these first words that he wrote and set to music were the following:

Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on, help me stand. I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Thro’ the storm, thro’ the night, Lead me on to the light. Take my hand, precious Lord; lead me on.

Georgia Tom, or Thomas Dorsey, as evidenced by this wonderful hymn and a long-life lived in dedication to God, knew what the disciples knew about Jesus. That Jesus is the one who helps us overcome our fears. Jesus is the one who helps us get through the storms of life, figuratively and literally, into a peace that is beyond all understanding.

In today’s lesson, Jesus and the disciples are in a boat. It is night, a dangerous time to be on the sea. And sure enough, “a great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.”

The fearful disciples cry out to Jesus who is sound asleep on a cushion in the stern: “Teacher! Don’t you care that we are perishing?”

Of course, Jesus cares. He wakes up and stands up. He immediately rebukes the wind and speaks against the waves. And a miraculous calm settles over the sea.

This is what God does. When we call on God in the storms of life, if we allow him to take our hand like Thomas Dorsey did, it may take some time, but we believe miraculous calm will settle over us. As disciples, we have perhaps experienced this.

This is what makes our scripture lesson this morning so strange. After Jesus rebukes the wind and speaks against the waves, after he brings a miraculous calm, notice that the disciples are still afraid.

In the Greek New Testament, Mark says that the disciples not only feared, but they “feared a great fear.” After Jesus calms the storm, the disciples become more afraid than ever.

Notice, that it is then Jesus asks: “Why are you afraid?” I’ve stilled the storm. I’ve calmed the waves. Why are you, even now, afraid?

And then, fearing a great fear, the disciples begin to ask one another, “Who is this that even the wind and the waves obey him?”

The disciples were afraid, but now they are afraid for a very different reason. I believe it’s a completely different kind very different kind of fear. First, there’s the fear of the death-dealing storm. Death, divorce, disease, in a thousand different ways, the storms of life come. You receive a grim diagnosis. A good friend loses their job. A child dies. Winds are howling. Waves are crashing. And we cry out to Jesus, “Do you not care that we are perishing?”

Of course, Jesus cares. He wakes up, stands up, rebukes the wind and speaks out against waves, and all is calm.

And the disciples have never been more afraid.

This is the fear that comes from standing in the presence of the one the wind and the sea obey. This is the fear that comes with the realization that this one who has been teaching them how to love this world, is none other than the Creator of all that is.

Thus, it is the fear that comes with the realization of the personal change and sacrifice that following the creator of the universe that is demands.

This is the fear that comes with the realization that when any of God’s children are perishing, it is God who is calling the disciples to care, to wake up, to stand up and rebuke the winds of injustice, to speak against the waves of oppression.

This is the fear that comes with waking up to the realization that if they want be on the side of the Lord of hosts, the Master of the earth, wind, fire and sea, then they must love this world as he does.

If they want to stand with the Most High, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, then they must stand with the sojourner in their land, with the vulnerable in their midst, with those who mourn and grieve their lives, with all who hunger and thirst for justice.

And with that realization, the realization that they must always be on the side of the underprivileged and the powerless, comes the fear of the push back that will surely be coming their way by the privileged and the powerful. This is the persecution that Jesus points out in the beginning of this chapter when he compares those who acquiesce to evil to avoid persecution, or those who are seduced by power and wealth, to seeds falling on rocky soil.

I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked: how are things going your new church? And each time, I respond the same. “Things are great! I am loving it!”

But perhaps the way I should be responding to this question, the way you should respond when people ask you is: “How are things going? Well, to tell you the truth, it’s a little scary. Doing this work of following Jesus wherever he leads is downright frightening. And being a part of such a church, well, it’s like fearing a great fear!”

For you see, I am working alongside people who believe God, the Holy Creator of all that is, is wide awake in our midst. Christ himself is here rebuking and speaking out against the storms of life. But at the same time, he’s shaking things up! He’s stilling the waters, but he’s also rocking the boat! He’s recreating and resurrecting. He’s making all things new. He’s creating a brand-new world: a world where every human being knows they are loved, where justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. He’s creating a world where no person perishes but has eternal life, a world where every life is equally valued. He is calling us to wake up. He is calling us to care. He is calling us to take a stand. He is calling us to go out into our world to love in a way that will not only be socially unacceptable, but will certainly upset the privileged and the powerful. He leads us out of one kind storm only to lead us directly into another kind of storm!

So, you see, being a part of a church that is committed to following the sacrificial, justice-seeking, love-winning way of Jesus is a most frightening venture!

But here’s the good news. When Jesus cared, woke up and stood up, rebuked the wind and spoke against the sea, I believe another realization came: This way of Jesus, this way of inclusive, sacrificial love, has the power to literally change the world!

When we follow the way of Jesus, when we care, wake up and stand up, rebuke the wind and speak out against the waves the whole world can change.

When we care, wake up and stand up, rebuke the wind and speak out against the waves by standing with poor people, then poor people can receive affordable housing, healthcare and education. They can earn fair living wages.

When we care, wake up and stand up, rebuke the wind and speak out against the waves by standing with the oppressed, discrimination of every kind will be defeated and liberty and justice will come for all.

And, although none go with us, we still will follow. Although our friends forsake us, we still will follow. Although family members desert us, our cross we still will carry. Although persecution befall us and things get scary, we still will be unashamed to faithfully preach the gospel and be unafraid to sing aloud with the Psalmist:

God is our refuge and strength,

a very present help in trouble.

Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth should change,

though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;

though its waters roar and foam,

though the mountains tremble with its tumult.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;

God will help it when the morning dawns.

The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;

he utters his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our refuge.

Come, behold the works of the Lord…

…He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;

he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;

he burns the shields with fire…

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our refuge (Psalm 46).

A Pentecostal Outpouring

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

Acts 2 NRSV

I have heard more than one person say: “the Spirit of God is in this place.”

I have also heard people make the counter observation about other churches, saying something like: “I no longer felt the Spirit in that place.” And I am sure that there are some who have made, and who still make, that observation about our church.

So, a good question for us to ask on this Pentecost Sunday is: “How do we know whether or not the Holy Spirit is here?” How do we know if any church ever experiences something like Luke described as a violent wind and tongues of fire? How do we recognize a Pentecostal outpouring of the Holy Spirit?”

As a child, I remember our congregation often opening a worship service by singing:

There’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place. And, I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord; There are sweet expressions on each face, And I know that it’s the presence of the Lord (Doris Akers, 1962).

“Sweet facial expressions?” Is that how we know? I suppose I see a few of those today. But are you happy because the Spirit is here or because you know there’s some good food waiting for you at the end of the service?

I have heard some people talk about an outpouring of the Spirit as they describe a worship service where people are standing singing praise songs to Jesus with their hands raised and tears rolling down their cheeks.

I once served on a town’s recreation committee with the responsibility of organizing the summer church softball league. After leading worship on Sunday, I drove over to a neighboring church to deliver the schedule for the upcoming season. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that cars were pulling out, so I assumed their service had just ended. As I opened and walked through the front door of the sanctuary, I was alarmed to see several people lying motionless in the aisle! The pastor, who was gathering his notes at the pulpit, saw me come in, and without even a hint of concern in his voice, greeted me with a smile saying: “Brother Banks, welcome! Come back with me to my office, and don’t mind those folks lying there in the aisle.”

More than a little distressed, as I walked around the bodies lying in the aisle, I asked: “Are these people ok?”

The pastor said: “Oh, don’t you worry about them. They’ll get up soon enough. We just had a tremendous outpouring of the Holy Spirit today where several people were slain in the Spirit. It happens from time to time.”

I anxiously followed the pastor into his office, where he asked me to sit down across from his desk. As I handed him the softball schedules, I must have had a not-too-sweet expression on my face, because he asked, “Brother Banks, you don’t ever have people fall out during your services, do you?”

I answered: “Oh, it’s happened a time or two, and each time, somebody called 911.”

He smiled and said, “Well, that’s how we know that the Holy Spirit is in this place.”

So, should be concerned that no body passes out in the floor during our worship here? That no one stands and raises their hands as they sing overwhelmed with emotion?

So, what do we mean when we say we feel the spirit in this place?

Some Sundays, I am amazed how the anthem that Jeremy selects or the hymns that Judy plays fit perfectly with the sermon. I sit back here and say to myself: “That’s the Spirit working!”

However, as amazing as that is at times, I am not sure that exactly what is being described by Luke on the Jewish festival called Pentecost.

Luke writes: “When the day of Pentecost had come…all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”

I suppose we could ask someone who knows a few languages, like Brian Cox, to come up here and speak to us this morning. But there’s a problem with that. The miracle of Pentecost was not so much in the speaking as it was in the hearing.

Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘How is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?

If Brian comes up here and speaks to us in German, I am pretty sure we are not going to hear him in English.

Perhaps Luke, in describing the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, is trying to paint a portrait to help us see something larger, more wonderful, and more astonishing.

Perhaps Luke is describing what our country needs today, what our world needs today— a divine grace to listen, to hear, to understand, to empathize with others who may be so different from us that they speak a different language. Perhaps Luke is describing an outpouring of the Holy Spirit that produces a divine compassion for more people than the people we see as “our own,” a holy call for people to possess an empathy that transcends countries, ethnicities, sexual orientation, gender, and race. In this great Pentecostal outpouring-of-the-Spirit event, Luke just well may be describing the first Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Conference!

Luke is describing a Pentecostal outpouring that transforms the hearts and minds of people to have the heart and mind of Jesus who listened to, heard, and learned from a Syrophoenician woman, saw the Samaritan as his neighbor, and accepted Eunuchs, who Matthew records Jesus saying were “born that way” (Matthew 19).

Luke is describing a people who would never say “God bless America” without a sincere desire for God to bless the entire world. He is describing a group of people who would never condemn the genocide of one nation without condemning the genocide of another. He is describing white people who do not hesitate when they see a black man mercilessly executed by police in the street to stand up and say “Black Lives Matter” or to speak out at the school board when the history lessons taught to children in our schools are being whitewashed.

Luke is describing people who do not merely worship Jesus, but they follow Jesus, and teach the way of love that Jesus taught, a generous love that is expressed as goodwill for all people.

Luke is describing hearts that are so generous “they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” These are people who never complain about food stamps, free healthcare, and increasing the minimum wage, because they truly believe in supporting the welfare of all people, so no one, regardless of their citizenship is in need.

Luke is describing people who feel a deep sense of connectedness to all people.

The COVID-19 pandemic taught us many things. Like all communicable diseases, that a virus can originate on the other side of the world and quickly spread to every nation on earth taught us how connected we all are to one another.

But it also taught us something about our refusal to acknowledge such connectedness. It taught us something sinister about our selfishness and self-centeredness as some refused to wear a mask in public or get a vaccine to protect their neighbor. Even some churches refused to abide by the stay-at-home orders at the beginning of the pandemic, revealing that we have many churches in America devoid of the Holy Spirit of the One who said the greatest commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves.

It revealed that what this world needs today is some Pentecost, a serious outpouring of the Holy Spirit!

And by “serious,” I mean the world doesn’t need more people tearfully worshipping Jesus with their hands raised in the air. It needs more people following Jesus by extending their hands to help their neighbors in need.

The world doesn’t need more anthems or postludes that pair well with the sermon. It needs more people who are offering their spiritual gifts to pair with the needs of the world.

The world doesn’t need more people slain in the spirit on Sunday morning. It needs more people to be awakened by the spirit to a live a life of generosity for the goodwill of all people every day of the week.

And the world doesn’t need any more congregations with sweet expressions on each face. It needs more of the fire that was experienced on that day the Holy Spirit showed up enabling people of all nationalities, ethnicities, and races to see, to listen, to hear, and to care for one another.

The world needs more empathy and equity, more justice and generosity, more sharing and more goodwill, and not just for people who speak our language, are born in our country, share our pigmentation, or go to our church, but for all people.

The good news is that I believe this is indeed a spirit-filled church. Now, we are still calling 911 if you fall out in the aisle this morning, but there’s plenty of other evidence that the Spirit of the Lord is in this place.

The building and the blessing of the little food pantries, our donations to the Rivermont food pantry, our volunteers each month who serve at the Park View Mission, our folks who have signed up to deliver Meals on Wheels—these are all evidence of a Pentecostal outpouring of the Holy Spirit, or as my childhood preacher liked to say, “an unction of the Holy Ghost!”

And just this past week, our Outreach Team met with the Interfaith Virginia Center for Public Policy to discuss a partnership that will enable us to not only feed our neighbors in need, but to be advocates for justice, so our neighbors will not be hungry in the first place. This may be the strongest evidence of all that there’s Pentecostal outpouring in this place.

So, as we celebrate 150 years as a church, on this day which has been called “the birthday of the Church” (that’s Church with a big ‘C’), there is indeed a sweet, sweet spirit in this place. There are sweet expressions on some faces, but there are also some holy scowls, some furrowed brows, some eyes filled with divine determination, souls ignited by a fiery Call of Love to make this a more generous, equitable, and just world, not just for some of the people, but for all people. And I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord. Amen.

A Cloudy Ascension Sunday on Mother’s Day

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Easter, Sermons Year B2 Comments
Photo taken by Carrie Knutsen

Acts 1:6-11 NRSV

In today’s epistle lesson, on what the church traditionally calls Ascension Sunday, we have one of the first hints of how we are capable of mucking up the purposes of God in this world.

 It’s the first inkling of how we got to this place today where the Christianity not only doesn’t look anything like the way of love that Jesus taught and embodied, but in many ways, looks like the exact opposite.

The risen Christ has been telling his followers for months that he would one day leave them and how he expected them to continue his mission in the world loving one another as he loved, by being his hands and feet in the world, and in today’s lesson, we read where time had come. But before he departed, they asked him: “When will you come again and restore the kingdom to Israel?”

 Jesus replied: “It is not for you to know the time or the period…But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea, and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

With those words, he ascended into heaven and left the followers of standing there, looking up into the clouds.

And while they had their heads in the clouds, suddenly, angles show up saying: “Why do you stand there looking up toward heaven?”

Jesus’ followers were instructed to get their heads out of the clouds. They didn’t need to be alarmed about the departure of Jesus, because one day, God’s kingdom would fully come, the day is certainly coming when love will finally win. The disciples are not told when, but they didn’t need to know.

“All you need to know,” said the angels, is that the Kingdom is coming. Justice will prevail. Love will eventually win, and here’s the thing, you are going help to make that happen! That is, if you get your head out of the clouds and keep loving this world as you witnessed Jesus loving this world, if you keep being his “witnesses to the ends of the earth.”

I believe this wonderful Ascension story has much to teach today’s church that seems that still seems to have its head somewhere in the distant clouds.

Angels say: “Church, God needs you to get your heads out of the clouds, get your minds off going to heaven, and come back down to earth and to do something for this world. Do the things that you witnessed Jesus do in the gospels. Feed the hungry. Make a place at the table for the left out and the left behind. Stand up and speak out advocating for those who are marginalized by sick religion and greedy politics. Love your neighbor as yourself. Give something, create something, be something that will make a positive difference in the world, especially in the worlds of those considered to be the least of these.

Get your heads out of the clouds, come back down to earth and go to Jerusalem. Go all the way to Richmond and Washington DC to be public moral witnesses of the Jesus who preached good news to the poor and freedom for the oppressed. Why are all of you hunkered up in one place? Don’t close yourself up in a sanctuary of comfort and security. Get out of here. Go into all of Judea. Go all over Central Virginia. Go to places like Samaria and Palestine, those place that you may not want to go. Be witnesses to the ends of the earth to the good news of the inclusive, unconditional, generous love of God that Jesus revealed, embodied, and commanded.

And what’s the church’s response:

But these clouds are so pretty. They are so soft. So comforting. Let’s just stay right here. Let’s keep our heads in the clouds.

Giving ourselves to transform the world seems too risky, too hard, just too exhausting. Everyone knows that standing up for the marginalized won’t get you very far in this world, and fighting for the rights of the oppressed will only get you in trouble. It’s all too costly. After all, look what it cost Jesus.

So, instead of all of that, let’s make the faith about these pretty clouds. We can even get some smoke machines to create some real clouds in our worship centers. Instead of inspiring people to give, live and love like Jesus, let’s just encourage people to worship Jesus. Instead asking people to feed the hungry and fight for the least of these, let’s just study Jesus with a cup of coffee, sing praise hymns to Jesus and listen to sermons about Jesus.

We are going to take this clear, but very uncomfortable, call to go into all the world to fight for the least of these, and we are going to cloud it up by turning it into a religion, better yet, we are going to make it a blissful, personal, relationship that we must have as a ticket to heaven.

Then, we can use this ticket-to-experience-the-clouds-of-heaven- while-avoiding-the fires-of-hell to frighten people to do things that serve us. We can cloud it up a bit more and get people to love the Bible more than they love Jesus. Then we can use the Bible as a tool, really as weapon, to protect our power and privilege, to keep us comfortable and to even make us some money.

And if we must compromise a little, even cloud it up more with some dark, mean, sinister clouds to get it, that will be ok. If we have to lie a little,  hurt the planet a little, stir up a little racism and bigotry, scapegoat a group of people, pay workers a low wage, even embrace a little Nazism along the way, it will be worth it. Because at least we will be more comfortable, our taxes will be lower, and our wealth, you know, it will eventually trickle down to the least, right?

To say that we have clouded up what it means to be a public witness doing the things that Jesus did in this world is an understatement.

Which makes it all the more ironic, that this year, Ascension Sunday falls on Mother’s Day. Because we have done the exact same thing to the original Mother’s Day proclamation written by a prophet named Julia Ward Howe in 1870. We have taken a clear call to action, a summons to work and sacrifice to make this world more loving, more peaceful and more just and clouded it up creating something that serves our own interests.

Howe writes:

Arise, then, women of this day!

Arise, all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly:

“We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies.

Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.

Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.

We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.”

From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.

It says: “Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.”

Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality may be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

And what was the response?

We’ve all become more committed to the general interests of peace? To the relearning of charity, mercy, and patience? To disarmament? To the recognition of the one great human family? To living for God and not for Caesar?

No, that’s too risky, too costly, too woke. I tell ya what. Let’s make it about clouds, soft, fluffy, white clouds.

And in 1914, a white supremacist named Woodrow Wilson proclaimed Mother’s Day a national holiday– as a moral call for world peace and justice? As a call for mercy and patience? A call for a world summit of women to negotiate how nations can finally live in harmony?

 Nope. He clouded it up, making it a “public expression of our love and reverence for all mothers.” Instead of making it a call for a ceasefire, a call to disarm, and to work for peace; instead of making it a plea to create sensible gun laws, we will make it about flowers, candy and greeting cards.

And what was the church’s response to the original Mother’s Day proclamation?

Do we finally answer our call to be prophetic witnesses for world peace and justice? Do we finally stand up for God’s children everywhere who are bullied, mistreated, and harmed for being different, for being poor, for belonging to another ethnicity or nationality or religion?

In the words of Hosea, do we finally rise up and “fall upon those who do harm” to any of God’s children, even if they are from Samaria or Palestine, “like a bear robbed of her cubs” (Hosea 13:8)? Whenever we see injustice in our world, whether it comes out of Washington DC, Richmond or Lynchburg, do we finally echo the words of the prophet Isaiah: “For a long time I have held my peace, I have kept still and restrained myself; now I will cry out like a woman in labor, I will gasp and pant” (Isaiah 42:14)?

No. That’s too risky. It’s much too costly. So, what do we do? We cloud it up. We sentimentalize it. We make this day in the church about recognizing the oldest mother and the youngest mother with flowers. We make it about giving a special gift to all mothers who attend worship.

And on Mother’s Day in 2024, the church looks nothing like the clarion call of Julia Howe to be prophetic voices of peace and justice, as on this Ascension Sunday, it looks nothing like the summon of angels to go into all the world to live, serve and love like Jesus.

Now, I love my mother. I called her first thing this morning. Most of us love our mothers. We wouldn’t be here without them. And I love church. I love worship. I love our faith. But the truth is: we’ve clouded it all up.

Today, on this cloudy Ascension Sunday on Mother’s Day, I believe God wants those who claim to be friends of Jesus to get our heads out of the clouds to heed the clear call of angels and a prophet named Julia. Let’s be moral witnesses continuing the work of Jesus in this world. And today, let’s rise up with women everywhere to be public prophetic voices for peace and for justice, a holy movement for wholeness in this fragmented world.

Living in Amazement

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year A2 Comments

 

Matthew 22:15-22 NRSV

The religious privileged of Jesus’ day were much like the religious privileged of our day. They believed they had somehow earned their high position at God’s table. They deserved the blessings of God. They were so devout, so pious, so “bible-believing,” they convinced themselves that they had God and the world all figured out and believed they possessed the keys to the Divine. They believed they were God’s gatekeepers and judges.

They looked at the rich, the powerful and the strong with favor. After all, like themselves, they were obviously blessed by God. And they looked down their noses with disdain at the poor, the disenfranchised and the weak. After all, they were obviously cursed by God. A curse they undoubtedly deserved. Probably because of their own sin, or because the sin of their parents. For whatever reason, the least of those in society deserved to be least.

They looked up at those who accepted their biblical worldview with respect. And they looked down upon those who disagreed with their views with contempt.

Because they believed they had somehow earned the right to be the judge, they were more than willing to stone adulterers, crucify heretics, mistreat tax collectors, banish lepers, oppress women, restrain the mentally ill, hinder children, ignore the bullied, even if the poor victim had been robbed, beaten and left for dead on the side of the road.

After all, these who are  least in our society are least for a reason. For whatever reason, it was very evident to them that God had not blessed them. And if God would not bless them, neither would they.

Then from Nazareth, a place from which no one good ever comes, comes this liberal, a radical rabbi named Jesus turning the religious leaders’ worldview upside down by identifying with the least—

         By traveling all over embracing lepers,[i] touching the unclean,[ii] welcoming children,[iii] eating with sinners,[iv] empowering minorities,[v] learning from someone of another faith,[vi] loving the foreigner,[vii] respecting sex workers,[viii] giving dignity to Eunuchs,[ix]defending an adulterer,[x] protecting the rights of women,[xi] bringing peace to the mentally ill,[xii] advocating for the poor,[xiii] feeding the hungry,[xiv] offering drink to the thirsty,[xv]blessing the meek,[xvi] and advocating for prisoners,[xvii] excluding no one, offering his body, his blood, his life to all.

The religious powers-that-be had about all that they could possibly stand.

“He’s destroying the very fabric of society. He’s making a mockery out of our religion. He’s hurting our traditional, conservative family values. He’s what is wrong with our country. And someone needs to put a stop to it.”

So, they plotted and they conspired, and they rallied their people, and sent them to entrap Jesus.

They were sly, and they were sneaky. They said to themselves, “We will soften him up first by showering him with a few compliments. And then we will get him.”

“Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. You eat with tax collectors, sinners and harlots. You love the good and the bad equally.”

But then, here it comes.

“Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

But Jesus doesn’t fall for it. Aware of the malice in their hearts, Jesus said:

Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? 19Show me the coin used for the tax.’ And they brought him a denarius. 20Then he said to them, ‘Whose head is this, and whose title?’ 21They answered, ‘The emperor’s.’ Then he said to them, ‘Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God, the things that are God’s.’22When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.

The question for us this morning is this: “Why were they so amazed?” What made them walk away astounded?

First, it’s important to understand why Jesus called them “hypocrites” right before he asked them to show him the coin them they used to pay taxes.

The image on the coin was Tiberius Caesar. And the title imprinted on the coin was “son of God,” as the Romans considered Caesar to be divine.

So, the Pharisees would have regarded these Roman coins to be idolatrous. So, simply by producing the coin, they show themselves to be hypocrites, breaking the first of the ten commandments.

Here they were, holier-than-thou judges, judging Jesus, and Jesus drives home the point that he made in his very first sermon: “Why do you seek to judge one with a speck in his eye, when you have a log in your own eye.”

I can imagine the faces of the religious leaders turning red as they realized that this one whom they were sent to entrap has now entrapped them.

But Jesus is not finished with them yet.

With one of the most well-known, yet most misunderstood quotes attributed to him, Jesus responds:

Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and give to God what belongs to God.

I like to think that this is the moment when a light bulb came on for these religious leaders. This was the moment when the scales from their eyes fell. You could say “when they became woke”—wide awake to the amazing grace of it all.  For it was like Jesus asking them:

“Give to Zeus what belongs to Zeus and give to God, the creator of all that is, what belongs to God.”

And what would any good Jew say belongs to the Greek god, Zeus?

Nothing, of course. It all belongs to God. All that is, all that they had, all that they were, and all that they would ever have and ever be is but a gift of God’s amazing grace.

Suddenly, it occurred to them: All is gift. Therefore, all is grace. They didn’t do anything to earn the gift of life. Their life was an unearned gift of grace God, the world, and others did not owe them anything. The amazing grace of it all became amazingly clear.

It all belongs to God; thus, God alone is the judge of it all. They were in no position whatsoever to ever judge anyone. They did not own their faith, their synagogue, not even their own lives.

And, if just for a moment, they got it.

“Of course Jesus, that is why you do not show deference to anyone or treat anyone with partiality. We are all the same. We are all gifts of God’s amazing grace, rich and poor, Jew and Palestinian and even Samaritan, all beloved children of God. And recognizing this grace, we now have this holy compulsion to share grace with others, especially with those who need grace the most, especially with those whom society has deemed to be the least, those who have been erroneously taught their entire lives that that God doesn’t just disapprove of them but is actually against them, believes they are abominations.”

Matthew tells us that they walked away from Jesus in amazement. When they awoke to realize that all belongs to God, that all grace, that all is miracle, that all is gift, they left amazed by it, humbled by it, changed by it, and very grateful for it.

I believe there are basically two types of people in this world: the grateful and the ungrateful. I know that it’s not that simple, but I believe there is some truth to it.

I admire anyone who can go on a silent retreat for a few days. You may have heard of the monk who joined a silent monastery. The monks were to be silent 24-7, but at the end of each year the monks were able to go to the abbot and voice just two words. Two words a year. That’s all. At the end of the first year, the monk went to the abbot and said, “Bed hard.” At the end of the second year, the monk went again to the abbot and said, “food bad.” At the end of the third year, the monk said to the abbot, “I quit.”

To which the abbot responded, “I am not surprised. Ever since you’ve been here, all you’ve done is complain.”

Ungrateful people are most often the complainers. Ungrateful people believe that there is always something more owed to them. The world owes them. Others owe them. God owes them. If they have good health and great wealth, a nice home, they somehow earned it. And they have this tendency to judge others who have not achieved what they have achieved, do not believe what they believe, and do not live like they live. Ungrateful people are seldom content. No amount of money, no number of possessions is ever enough. Because of this, they are the least generous people we know.

They are the ones who feel entitled to take and use what is not theirs, whether it be money, land, or even another person. Furthermore, they become bitter when things do not go their way. When bad things happen, they bemoan, “Why me?” because they know they deserve so much better. And because they believe this, they are never surprised or amazed by anything good that comes their way.

On the other hand, grateful people understand that no one, not even God, owes them anything. They understand that they have done absolutely nothing to earn this gift we call life. And they certainly understand that they have not earned the right to marginalize anyone, for all people are God’s children.

Grateful people are content. They are fulfilled. If their cup is half empty, they live like it is running over. When someone asks them: “How are you?” they respond that they are doing better than they deserve. If they only have a few years on this earth, a few friends and a few dollars, that is ok, because that is a few more than they truly earned. Therefore, grateful people the most generous people we know.

Like the ungrateful, they also cry out: “Why me?” But they do so with amazement when the good things come their way. Because they know that none of it is deserved. They walk, live, eat, drink and breathe holy amazement, astounded by the mysterious, amazing grace of it all.

Thus, they have a passion, a sense of call, a divine desire to share grace with others, especially with those in this world who need grace. Because they have received grace freely, they share it freely. Grateful people are the first to forgive the sinner, give drink to the thirsty, share bread with the hungry, care for the sick, visit the lonely, offer friendship to a stranger, stand up for the marginalized and freely give their tithes and offerings to help make this world more just for all people. Grateful people embrace the grace of it all, and in response, grateful people just love. They just love the entire creation, every creature, every life. They live their lives doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly.

Matthew says when Jesus pointed out that it all belongs to God, that all is grace, all is gift, they walked away amazed. And this morning, as we begin to think about our financial stewardship as a church, may we do the same.

[i] Luke 17:11-19

[ii] Luke 8:43-48

[iii] Matthew 19:13-15

[iv] Matthew 10:13-17

[v] Luke 10:25-37

[vi] Mark 7:25-30

[vii] Luke 19:34

[viii] Luke 7:36-50

[ix] Matthew 19:12

[x] John 8:1-11

[xi] Matthew 19:3-12,  Luke 10:38-42

[xii] Mark 5:1-17

[xiii] Luke 16:19-31

[xiv] Matthew 14:13-21

[xv] John 4:11

[xvi] Matthew 5:5

[xvii] Matthew 25:36

Divine Expectations

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

Isaiah 5:1-7 NRSV

This morning, I want to invite you to grab a jacket and go with me to a beautiful winery, high atop a mountain with a breath-taking 360-degree view stretching in all directions. As we arrive, our host leads us to a table overlooking the vineyard which has been planted on the hillside. A waiter brings us a mouthwatering charcuterie board filled with all kinds of goodness and a flight of their best-tasting wines. As we begin sipping our first glass, we notice a musician standing in front of a mic tuning his guitar.

The artist clears his throat and introduces himself:

“My name is Isaiah. Please allow me to share a love-song that I have been inspired to write and sing for you today.”

“Oh, how we love a love-song!” we say to one another as we sit back and eat a bite of cheese.

Isaiah begins singing with this soft, mellow, folksy voice…

My beloved had a vineyard
on a very fertile hill. 

“Ooooh, he’s good!” we say, as we take another sip of wine.

He dug it and cleared it of stones,
and planted it with choice vines;
he built a watchtower in the midst of it,
and hewed out a wine vat in it;

The pleasant voice of the musician is soothing to our ears. We are touched by the song’s lyrics describing the love and nurturing care of the beloved: “What a wonderful love-song this musician is serenading us with!”

But then, like a typical love song, there’s some heartbreak…

he expected it to yield grapes,
but it yielded wild grapes.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I wonder how that happened?”

And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem
and people of Judah,
judge between me
and my vineyard.
What more was there to do for my vineyard
that I have not done in it?
When I expected it to yield grapes,
why did it yield wild grapes? 

Taking another sip of wine: “How disappointing! You work so hard. You give so much, all that you have and all that you are! You faithfully and lovingly do all that you can do! And for what? Heart ache. This is a sad love song.”

At that very moment, the singer’s face contorts, and in what seems like a fit of rage, he angerly hits the strings of his guitar causing his instrument to scream! The soft, gentle love ballad has become an ear-splitting, deafening heavy-metal hard rock anthem![i]

With a loud, shrieking, most unpleasant voice, the musician yells:

AND NOW I WILL TELL YOU
WHAT I WILL DO TO MY VINEYARD.

We are now nervously drinking our flights like they are shots of liquor, one after the other!

I WILL REMOVE ITS HEDGE,
AND IT SHALL BE DEVOURED;
I WILL BREAK DOWN ITS WALL,
AND IT SHALL BE TRAMPLED DOWN.
I WILL MAKE IT A WASTE;
IT SHALL NOT BE PRUNED OR HOED,
AND IT SHALL BE OVERGROWN WITH BRIERS AND THORNS;
I WILL ALSO COMMAND THE CLOUDS
THAT THEY RAIN NO RAIN UPON IT. 

We start bobbing our heads to the beat, trying our best to get into it, make the best of it, go with it: “Yeah, cut down the Vineyard! Down with the vineyard! To hades with the vineyard! Destroy the vineyard!”

But just when we get riled up, Isaiah begins strumming the guitar gently again. And back with his soft, folksy, pleasant voice he sings…

For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts
is the house of Israel,
and the people of Judah
are his pleasant planting;
he expected justice,
but saw bloodshed;
righteousness,
but heard a cry!

And suddenly, realizing that the musician was never singing about a vineyard; but lamenting the disappointment the people of God have become to God, lamenting the pain and suffering the people of God have caused in the world, we spit out our wine and choke on a piece of cheese!

What begins as an enjoyable “love-song” is quickly transformed into a harsh, allegorical anthem of judgment.

God, the creator of the vineyard, graciously and generously gave all that God had to give to ensure a fruitful harvest. No expense is spared in picking a good site, in preparing the land, in choosing the best plants, in protecting it from thieves, and in the processing of the grapes. But, in response to the boundless love of the creator, what the vineyard produces is “wild grapes,” or literally from Hebrew, “stinky things.”  God “expected” or “hoped for” sweetness, but all God received was bitterness. And consequently, there is catastrophic judgment.

It’s very important to note that in the theology of the Hebrew prophets, including Isaiah, judgment is always something that we bring on ourselves. I often hear people say: “I prefer the New Testament God over the Old Testament God. Less judgement!” However, God is never portrayed by the prophets throwing lightning bolts down from heaven in the way some ancient Greek god might do. Thus, judgment should never be understood as God’s need or desire to punish or get even with sinful humanity. God lovingly grants us freedom allowing us to make our choices. If we choose the way of darkness, then we will have to face the consequences of those choices. God, even in the Hebrew Bible, is always love, always generous, always gracious. That’s why the prophet’s song begins as a love song.

And in response to the love of God, what does humanity freely choose? Instead of the justice that God expected, God sees bloodshed. Instead of righteousness, God hears a cry. To emphasize this harsh truth, Isaiah uses a play on words. Instead of the “justice” (mishpat) that God expected, God sees “bloodshed” (mispach). And instead of “righteousness” (tsedaqah), God hears “a cry” (tse’aqah). Instead of the goodness, kindness, fairness, hospitality and equality that God expects the people to enact and embody, there is only cruelty, oppression and injustice that leads people to cry out for help.

The Hebrew word translated “cry” is notably revealing. When God’s people were being victimized by Pharaoh in Egypt, their response was to “cry” to God for liberation (Exodus 3:7). This word also occurs in 1 Samuel 8 when Samuel warns the people about the “justice” of the soon-to-be-established monarchy. As Samuel puts it, the “justice” of the kings will be nothing but oppression; thus, the people “will cry out” because of the king they have chosen for themselves. The warning from Samuel is that the monarchy itself will re-create the oppressive conditions of Pharaoh’s Egypt. And through his vineyard love song, Isaiah suggests that the worst has happened. God’s own people have chosen a political system that creates victims who are crying out for liberation.

The details of the oppressive conditions are evident as chapter 5 unfolds. The displacement of poor farmers from their land result in both homelessness and hunger (13). Greed and excess are supported by a corrupt legal system (23). And although it is the poor who are directly victimized, everyone eventually stands to lose when justice and righteousness are not enacted and embodied (15,16).

Violence, victimization, hunger, homelessness, greed, excess, corruption —Sadly, not much has changed, has it?

A prophet called Pope Francis recently challenged French President Emmanuel Macron and other European leaders to open their ports to people fleeing hardship and poverty. With words that sound much like Isaiah’s, he called for the Mediterranean Sea that so many cross to reach Europe “to be a beacon of hope, not a graveyard of desperation.”[ii]

He said that today the Mediterranean Sea “cries out for justice, with its shores that on the one hand exude affluence, consumerism and waste, while on the other, there is poverty and instability.”

Today, we know that our entire planet is crying out due to the selfishness and greed of a minority of the world’s population.

And somewhere in our world today, a parent is crying as a child dies every 4 seconds from causes related to hunger and malnutrition.[iii]

In the United States, the so-called richest country in the world, 58.5 percent of people experience poverty by the time they reach the age of 75.[iv]

Nearly 30 million people in the United States still live with no health insurance.[v] All the while, corporate executives make 399 times more money than the average worker.[vi]

Every year, proposed state and federal budgets seek to drastically reduce or eliminate funding for programs and services that tend to the essential needs of our most vulnerable, most on the margins, most threatened citizens: the working poor, the hungry, the homeless, the physically sick, the mentally ill, the disabled, the elderly, those in public housing and public schools, and those buried in debt.

Psychologist and prophet Mary Pipher pointed out the obvious when she wrote:

We have cared more about selling things to our neighbors than we’ve cared for our neighbors. The deck is stacked all wrong, and ultimately, we will all lose.[vii]

Yet, we know we can do better. We should do better. God expects us to do better. But tragically, instead of justice, God sees violence. Instead of righteousness, God hears the cries of victims (Isaiah 5:7).

Instead of protecting equal access to the ballot box, we chose to find ways to suppress the vote.

Instead of banning weapons of war, we chose to ban books.

Instead of finding ways to support schools serving low-income and marginalized students, we chose to close the schools.

Instead of building a bigger table, we chose to build a bigger wall.

Instead of making the gospel about good news for the poor, the marginalized and the oppressed, we made it solely about an individual’s ticket to heaven.

Speaking on the behalf of God, the prophet asks us to judge between God and the people of God (Isaiah 5:3). The verdict is clear. The question is not: “Why does God allow bad things to happen in this world?” The question is: “Why do we?”

To quote another prophet, in his acceptance speech for the 1986 Nobel Peace Prize, Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel reminded us:

We must always take sides.

Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.

Human rights are being violated on every continent.

More people are oppressed than free.

How can we not be sensitive to their plight?

Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere. There is so much to be done, there is so much that can be done.

One person—a Raoul Wallenberg, an Albert Schweitzer, a Martin Luther King, Jr.

—one person of integrity can make a difference, a difference of life and death.

As long as one dissident is in prison, our freedom will not be true.

As long as one child is hungry, our lives will be filled with anguish and shame.

What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them,

that when their voices are stifled, we shall lend them ours,

that while their freedom depends on ours, the quality of our freedom depends on theirs.”[viii]

Jesus talked about vineyards. And one day, he referred to himself a vine and called his disciples the branches (John 15). May his gifts of grace mobilize us to bear fruit by caring for the lost, the least and the last among us. Amen.

[i] This thought was inspired from a sermon by Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson http://dimlamp.wordpress.com/2010/08/12/sermon-12-pentecost-yr-c/

[ii] https://www.huffpost.com/entry/bc-eu-rel-france-pope_n_650efd6ae4b060f32d3aa5cf

[iii] https://www.who.int/news/item/10-01-2023-a-child-or-youth-died-once-every-4.4-seconds-in-2021—un-report

[iv] https://confrontingpoverty.org/poverty-facts-and-myths/most-americans-will-experience-poverty

[v] https://www.moneygeek.com/insurance/health/analysis/americans-without-coverage

[vi] https://www.npr.org/2023/09/13/1198938942/high-ceo-pay-inequality-labor-union-uaw-workers

[vii] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20-3/commentary-on-isaiah-51-7-3

[viii] https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/peace/1986/wiesel/acceptance-speech/

Responding to the Cries

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

Matthew 15:21-28 NRSV

“Inclusion” has always been one of my favorite words. I have proudly worn the word like a badge of honor and have been criticized by the religious culture for being “too inclusive.” Which, by the way, I consider affirmation that I am following the way of Jesus.

However, over time, I have been challenged to re-think the virtue of the word “inclusion.”

For five years or so, I was an Ambassador for an organization called Ainsley’s Angels. I recruited runners to include children and adults with disabilities (another word I have re-thought, preferring now to use “different abilities”) in 5Ks, 10Ks, or marathons, as they rode in what we called “chariots.”

The word “inclusion” was our mantra. Runners included those who could not run in the sport that they love. However, I quickly learned that the runners were not the only ones doing the including. The children and adults with Cerebral Palsy, Traumatic Brain Injury, Angelman Syndrome, Downs Syndrome and other diagnoses which impaired their ability to run, were actually including us in their lives. We even would say: “As runners, we don’t push our riders. They pull us. We are pulled by their positivity and joy across the finish line.”

They included us. They taught us, They challenged us, and they changed us. Perhaps more than anything, by including us in their lives, they taught us the virtue of empathy. How to really put ourselves in the shoes of another.

I believe that if we prayerfully think about the state of our divided nation today, it becomes obvious that what we have here is an empathy crisis. Some people just seem unable, or unwilling, to walk in the steps of another, to really hear, to listen, to truly understand and empathize with the groaning or the cries of others who are tormented by evil. Many are unwilling to leave their safe, protected bubble, where people who don’t look like them or live like them are excluded, to empathize with the cries of others yearning to be free, cries of others in their pursuit of some happiness, some acceptance, some affirmation and love, cries of others begging for a chance to just survive.

I believe this is why Jesus said: “On this, hangs all of the laws and message of the prophets, ‘you should love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matt 22:40). It is as if he was saying, “The entire Biblical witness comes down to this: “Love your neighbor and love your neighbor empathetically—as yourself. Which is to say: “put yourself in the shoes of another.”

I believe this morning’s gospel lesson has much to teach our nation today.

Just then, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.’ 

We hear this cry every day. Yet, many really don’t hear this cry. Many don’t understand this cry, nor want to understand this cry. Many don’t like this cry. Thus, never truly listen to the cry. To privileged ears, it’s just shouting. Strange, foreign shrieks that, frankly, we find offensive.

They are cries of mercy for a child tormented by demonic evil.

They are hopeful cries for a safer, more loving and just world for their child.

They are moral cries for equality.

They are cries for equal access to a quality education, for equal protection of the law, for fair living wages, for access to equitable healthcare.

They are prophetic cries against injustice.

They are cries against racism, against discrimination, against predatory loans, against voter suppression, against Gerrymandering, against oppressive government legislation. They cry out that their black and brown lives matter. For their queer lives to be seen and acknowledged.

Jesus’ first response to the cries is the most common response: it’s one of silence.

We know that response all too well. Silence, just silence.

If we ignore their cries, maybe they’ll go way. Responding to their cries will only stir things up, make things worse, uncover old wounds. And responding might cost us something. It might make us feel guilty. We may have to give up something. We might have to change something.

The second response comes from the disciples. It’s shocking, but not surprising. For it’s as familiar as silence: “Send her away.”

It’s the response of fear: fear of the other; fear that causes defense mechanism to go up; fear that breeds selfishness, anger, and hate.

Then, they blame the victim.

“What about her shouting?” “She keeps shouting.”

“What about the way she is behaving?” “She needs to be more respectable.” “She’s only making things worse.” “She needs to go away, get a life, get a job, go volunteer somewhere.” “She needs to learn some personal responsibility, stop begging for handouts and learn that God only helps those who help themselves.”

“They are what is wrong with this country.” “These snowflakes need to grow up, toughen up and shut up.” “And they need to learn that all lives matter.”

Jesus breaks his silence, but like the disciples, with words that are all too familiar. With words that are culturally popular; not biblically informed:

I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

“We should put our people first. We must look after our own interests. We need to do what is fair for us. We can’t give you a seat at our table, especially if you have needs. If you don’t possess the skills to help yourself, how can you help us?”

Nevertheless, she persisted. The outsider continues to protest. In an act of defiance, she takes a knee.

He answered (again with language culturally accepted; not divinely inspired):

It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.

But the good news is that is not how the story ends.

The foreign mother from Canaan keeps shouting. She keeps fighting. She does not lose heart or hope. She believes that justice will come, truth will prevail, and love will win. She speaks truth to power saying:

Lord, at my house, the dogs eat at the same time we eat. Lord, at my table, there’s room and enough for all, especially for those tormented by evil.

And here is the really good news: Jesus listens to this outsider, and although he was neither Canaanite, nor female nor a parent, Jesus empathizes with this mother from Canaan. Jesus just doesn’t merely include this mother. He is not inviting her to accept what is culturally accepted in his religious bubble of doctrines or traditions. Jesus doesn’t expect her to assimilate to his culture and speak only his language.

Jesus is able and willing to do something that many are unable, or unwilling, to do these days; that is, to put ourselves in the shoes of the other. Jesus is able and willing to see the world as she sees it, bear the pain of it, experience the brokenness of it, sense the heartache and grief of it, feel the hate in it.

And because he is really listening, because he is truly paying attention, because he has what so many are lacking these days, because he has empathy, because Jesus truly hears her cries, I believe Jesus is outraged. I believe Jesus begins to suffer with her, offering her the very best gift that he has to offer, the gift of himself, which is breaking before her and for her.

Jesus loves her. He loves her empathetically, authentically, sacrificially. He loves her unconditionally, deeply, eternally.

And loving like that always demands action.

After hearing her cries, listening to her pleas, empathizing with her pain, becoming outraged by the demons that were tormenting her child, Jesus announces that her daughter will be set free from the evil that was oppressing her.

However, her daughter is not liberated by his love alone. She is liberated from her oppression, both by the love of Jesus, and by the persistent faith of her mother, this mother who would not give up, back down, shut up, or go away.

When we hear the cries of people our culture considers to be outsiders— instead of responding with typical silence; instead of criticizing their shouting, their protesting, their marching and their kneeling; instead of blaming them for their situation— if we will follow the holy command to love them as we love ourselves; if we will listen to them and allow their cries to penetrate our hearts; if we will empathize with them; if we will put ourselves in their shoes; walk in their steps; experience their plight; feel the sting of the hate directed toward them— then a place will suddenly become open at our table for them.

Outsiders become family. The underprivileged become equals from whom we can learn, be led, be challenged, and be changed.

And then, together— because the miracle we need today cannot happen unless more of us come together— together, with the one who is no longer a foreigner, no longer feared, no longer ignored, no longer ridiculed— together, in community, side by side, hand in hand, with faith in God, and with faithful, holy persistence— we will stand up, we will speak out and cry out, and we will fight the demonic evil today that is tormenting any of God’s beloved children.

Of course, there will be great cost involved, for the Bible teaches us that love is always costly. But the cost of refusing to love is greater.

I love reading what happened next (“the rest of the story,” as Paul Harvey used to say). It’s the story of justice coming, truth prevailing, and love winning.

Beginning with verse 29…

After Jesus had left that place, he passed along the Sea of Galilee, and he went up the mountain, where he sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others. They put them at his feet and [without asking any questions about where they were from, what they believed, or what they had to offer] he cured them, so that the crowd was amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel (Matthew 15:29-31).

The words of the prophet Isaiah were fulfilled:

Foreigners were brought to God’s holy mountain, and there, experienced great joy in God’s house of prayer. They received the good news that God’s house of prayer is for all peoples. The good news is that their offerings are accepted, and God gathers the outcast and sits them beside those already gathered (from Isaiah 56).

Amen.

COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION

Go now and respond to the cries for justice.

Don’t ignore the cries. Don’t try to send them away.

Listen to them, empathize with them, love them.

Make them your sister, your brother.

And then, together— in the name of the God who is Love, the Christ who exemplified love and commanded love and the Holy Spirit who leads us to put our love into action—together, may we stand up, speak out and defeat the demonic evil that is tormenting God’s children, until justice comes, truth prevails, and love wins.

Mercy, Not Sacrifice

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year ALeave a comment
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

It is indeed an honor for me to stand before a congregation that has the audacity to believe that we should only exclude those people Jesus excluded, and that is no one—a church that not only believes that God’s love is for all people, but believes God’s call to ministry is for all people, with no exceptions. 

This is one of the great truths revealed in our gospel lesson this morning where we read Jesus calling a tax collector for a puppet king of the Romans to be a disciple. The oppressive taxes alone were enough to alienate Matthew, but the fact that the taxes went to a foreign government made Matthew hated among the Jews. 

Jesus is calling someone the religious establishment despised to be a disciple. Matthew, and his friends, are deemed morally reprehensible by the religious culture, yet, Jesus chooses to sit down at the table and share supper with them.

I believe it is very important for us to notice where Matthew was sitting when this initial invitation from Jesus to be a disciples takes place. In the third pew on the piano side of the synagogue? At a table in a Sabbath School class? No, Jesus has an encounter with Matthew while Matthew is at work, sitting in a tax booth out in the marketplace. I believe this underscores another great truth: If the church truly wants to fulfill the great commission and make disciples, then we must learn to find ways to go out and meet people where they are, instead of expecting people to come to us, especially those who may not understand that we truly welcome them here.  

After the Pharisees disparaged Jesus for demonstrating that there are no exceptions when it comes to the love of God, Jesus, rather ironically, reminds these teachers of the law that they still have a lot to learn. Notice that it is to the teachers he says: “Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” “Go and learn what this means.”

The church today still has much to learn about how to truly be the church; however, perhaps the greatest thing we need to learn is this: that Jesus desires “mercy, not sacrifice.”

Jesús is quoting words from Hosea chapter 6 where we read the prophet speaking out against meaningless acts of worship, stating that what God truly desires is mercy, not burnt offerings, not sacrifices. The Hebrew word translated “mercy” is hesed, which denotes the love of God for us— a constant and consistent, compassionate and extravagant love that never gives up, gives in or gives out. 

And Hosea is not the only prophet who proclaims what God truly desires. In the first chapter of Isaiah we read: 

What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord;
I have had enough of burnt-offerings…
… who [even] asked this from your hand? Trample my courts no more; 

Bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination…
   I cannot endure solemn assemblies… 
Your appointed festivals my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me, I am weary of bearing them. 
When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers, I will not listen;
   your hands are full of blood. 
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes;
cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan, plead for the widow.

 Isaiah 1:11-17 NRSV

It is in the fifth chapter of Amos we read:

I hate, I despise your festivals,
   and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. 
Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings,
   I will not accept them… 
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
   I will not listen to the melody of your harps. 
But let justice roll down like waters,
   and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Amos 5:21-24 NRSV

And the prophet Micah asks: 

‘With what shall I come before the Lord…
Shall I come before him with burnt-offerings…
…He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
   and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? 

Micah 6:6-8 NRSV

“Go and learn what this means,” says Jesus, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” And it is then that we read about Jesus’ encounter with two people who need mercy. We read about Jesus healing a woman who was ostracized and otherized, deemed “unclean” by the powers-that-be as she had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. And then we read about Jesus restoring life to a girl who was dead, while the religious folks laugh and ridicule him.

I love corporate worship. I believe gathering together for worship is one of the great essentials of our faith. The word “church” is translated from the Greek word ecclesia, which literally means a “gathering” or “assembly.” And it is certainly good for us to gather.

However, what we need to learn is that our assemblies on Sunday mornings are meaningless to God without the unwavering and undeterred acts of mercy we are called to carry out outside these sacred walls during the week— acts of healing and of restoration, acts of liberation and justice.

When I was growing up in rural northeastern North Carolina, on Sunday mornings we had what we called, “Sunday School” at 9:45, and then we had what we simply called “church” at 11, which, of course, was the worship service. I should probably confess that I have not always loved corporate worship, for I will never forget how happy I was those times mama would announce on Sunday morning that we were eating dinner with grandmama, therefore we were going to Sunday School but then would miss “church.”

You know what I disliked the most about church? The preaching, of course!

And sometimes we even referred to worship or “church” as “preaching.” I remember asking: “Can’t we just go to Sunday School and skip preaching?”

Still today, when somebody today says: “I missed church last week,” what they mean is that they missed sitting in a pew listening to a sermon. Or maybe they missed singing some hymns. A Disciple might be saying they missed receiving Communion. The point is, that when we say that we missed church, more often than not, we are saying that we missed assembling here, in this building worshipping God.

I believe the prophets and Jesus want us to understand that “church” means much more, much more than our assemblies and certainly much more than this building. It means being the embodiment of Christ, the merciful hands and feet of Jesus in this world.

I believe God wants the church to create such a culture that if we say “we missed church last week”, we’re not talking about missing a sermon. We’re talking about missing an opportunity to love a neighbor as we love ourselves.

When we say “we missed church last week,” we’re not talking about missing Communion. We’re talking about missing an opportunity to feed someone who is hungry, or clothe someone who is poor, or give shelter to someone who does not have a home.

When we say “we missed church,” we’re not talking about not coming to this building, we’re talking about missing an opportunity to go city hall, travel to Richmond or to Washington to stand up and speak out for those who face discrimination, isolation and alienation. 

When we say “we missed church,” we are talking about missing an opportunity to bring healing and restoration to someone who has suffered spiritual abuse, or has been made to feel that they are outside the boundaries of God’s grace and God’s love. 

When we say “we missed church,” we are talking about missing an opportunity to bring abundant life to those who are treated as if they do not exist, forced to be called by their dead name. We are actually talking about raising the dead, despite the laughs and the ridicule we might receive from some religious folks.

“Go and learn what this means,” says Jesus, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice!”

Because when the voices of hate are loud, the world doesn’t need us to just go to church, the world needs us to be the church, to go out and show up as the church. The world doesn’t need us to only light a candle inside the sanctuary. The world needs us to be a light of mercy out in the darkness, a light that is so bright that it is bound to upset some religious folks!

When our children are being slaughtered by assault weapons, the world doesn’t need our prayers, the world needs our mercy.

When people are led by fear instead of by love, when queerphobic rhetoric in politics, and in many churches, is causing immeasurable suffering, when holy scripture is weaponized to support hate …the world needs our mercy. 

When a travel advisory against visiting another state is issued for our black and brown siblings, and when our trans siblings are denied healthcare and are unable to use a public restroom… the world needs our mercy. 

When reproductive rights are stripped from women, when greed is destroying the planet, when books are being banned, science is denied, truth is rejected, compassion is maligned, empathy is scarce and love is restricted …the world needs our mercy. 

When diversity, equity and inclusion, mercy itself, is outlawed, along with teaching our children the truth about racism, if there is one thing that we need to hear on this upcoming Juneteenth Weekend, is that our world needs us to go out, stand up, speak out, march, work, serve, fight and vote for mercy. Through our gospel lesson this morning, Jesus is imploring the church today on the behalf of the world to “go and learn what this means!” 

I believe this is the holy purpose of our Sunday morning gatherings here in this place, and this is why this time together here is so important, essential and sacred. In Sunday School and in worship, at and around the table, in church, we are to learn what it means to go out to be the church, to be the unwavering merciful, visible, demonstrative embodiment of Christ in this world. 

We are to learn what it means to go out into the marketplace to make disciples. We are to learn what it means to welcome those whom others fear and despise to the table. 

We are to learn what it means to heal the sick and raise the dead. 

We are to learn what it means to defend the orphan, plead for the widow, and rescue the oppressed.

We are to learn what it means to love kindness, to do justice and to walk humbly with our God.  

Through our gatherings in this place, together, we are to learn how to love this world as Christ loves this world. We come here to be refreshed and renewed, empowered and emboldened to go out and do all we can, with all that we have, to let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.

Amen.