Tag: liberation

When the Bent-Over Stand Tall

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

Luke 13:10-17

There she was. Bent over for eighteen long years. Eighteen agonizing years of looking at the ground instead of the sky. Eighteen heartbreaking years of staring at her feet when she longed to see the stars. Eighteen years of neighbors passing by, some whispering, some staring, some mocking, and some pretending not to notice.

This one who was “bent over and not able to straighten up at all,” says Luke, had come to the synagogue to hear the teaching of a young rabbi named Jesus.

Listen again to verse 12, “When Jesus saw her…”

Let’s not miss that.

Before anyone else noticed her, Jesus saw her.

When the world looks away, Jesus sees. When society grows accustomed to suffering, Jesus stops.  When the culture calls suffering “normal,” Jesus calls it “wrong.”  When the world says, “nothing can change,” Jesus says, “oh, yes it can!”

This woman lived eighteen years under the weight of her condition.
But how many of us know people bent over for far longer than that?

Notice that Luke tells us that “a spirit” had crippled this woman. This was not some cartoon ghost floating around. Luke is naming the same thing John calls “the spirit of the antichrist,” the same thing Paul calls, “the spirit of slavery.” It’s the same spirit Mark called “Legion” pointing directly to Roman military occupation. It’s the same thing our ancestors called the spirit of Jim Crow. It’s the spirit of greed, the spirit of sexism, the spirit of pride and self-righteousness.

These spirits don’t float around in the air. They take root in systems and in structures. They show up in unjust laws, in hateful rhetoric, and in economic exploitation. When Jesus lays his hands on the bent-over, he is confronting not just sickness but the very spirit that says some people should stay bent over.

This is the spirit of oppression, the kind of spirit that settles in when the world tells you that bent down is all you will ever be. It’s the spirit that whispers, “Stay in your place.” It’s the spirit that says, “You don’t deserve healing. You don’t deserve dignity. You don’t deserve to stand tall.”

It’s the spirit that tells workers scraping by on minimum wage that they don’t deserve a living wage. It’s the spirit that tells people without health insurance that their lives are expendable. It’s the spirit that tells young Black men they are more likely to fill a jail cell than a college classroom. It’s the spirit that tells women, immigrants, trans and queer folk: “You don’t belong. You are less than. You should stay bent.”

The truth is that we are surrounded by the bent-over. And the tragedy is not just that people are bent. The real tragedy is that, like the synagogue leader in our story, the religious and political establishment today would rather preserve the systems that bend people over, than bring healing and transformation that makes the bent over stand tall.

That’s the ugly spirit that cripples this woman in the synagogue. And that’s the spirit that Jesus confronted in that synagogue. And that’s what really angers the religious leaders. Because when Jesus lays his hands on this woman, it’s not just a personal miracle. It’s a public exorcism. It is the casting out of a spirit that says bondage is normal. It is the overthrow of every lie that says any of God’s children should stay bent and broken.

Indignant that Jesus would not only heal on the Sabbath, but heal a woman, touching her, violating the rules of religious tradition, the religious leader scowls: “How dare you! Come for healing on any other day, but not on the Sabbath!”

But the Sabbath was never about rules. The Sabbath is about restoration. The Sabbath is God’s reminder that human beings are not machines. The Sabbath is the declaration that Pharaoh’s bricks and quotas and endless production do not have the final word.

The Sabbath is freedom. And Jesus, right there in the synagogue, calls out their hypocrisy by saying: “How can you untie your ox or donkey on the Sabbath but refuse to untie this woman from her bondage?”

Two years ago, during the Sunday School hour, to get to know the new pastor, we played this game called “Quiz the Pastor” where you were asked to write questions and place them in a box for me to draw and answer. Most of the questions were easy, like “what is your favorite dessert?” But I will never forget one of the questions: “What is the gospel?” I can’t remember how I answered that important question, but I should have answered by retelling this story in Luke 13.

Because Jesus answers that question in the synagogue that day when he talks about the Sabbath: If the Sabbath is for rest and restoration, then the people most in need of restoration, the ones most bent over, the ones most tied down and bound, are the very first who should taste its freedom.

I believe we must be clear: this story is not just about one woman with a bad back in Galilee. It is about all the places where people are bent over today. And it’s about all the ways our society tolerates suffering, because healing would disrupt business as usual.

We live in a nation where: patriarchy is untied while women are bowed down with fewer rights; corporations and billionaires are untied every tax season while workers stay bound; banks are untied from regulations while the poor stay bent beneath debt; guns are untied while active shooter drills bend school children beneath desks; autocracy is untied while gerrymandering and voter suppression bends down democracy; and much of the church in our country has been untied from any responsibility to make this world more loving, peaceful and just, as pastors preach about Jesus’ role in personal salvation while ignoring his role in social liberation.

The synagogue leader says to Jesus: “No, not today. It’s unacceptable to bring that in here!”

And Jesus responds with the gospel: “Not tomorrow but today is the day of liberation! Here and now is the acceptable place and time for all who are bound to be untied!”

And because of this gospel truth, the good news is we’ve seen bent-over people stand tall throughout history.

In 1968, the Memphis sanitation workers were bent under dangerous conditions and poverty wages, but they stood tall, carrying signs that said, “I Am a Man” until the world had to see their dignity.

A year later, Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera were bent by poverty, police harassment, and transphobia, yet they stood tall at Stonewall and beyond, fighting for the dignity of LGBTQ+ people.

More recently, Greta Thunberg was bent by the loneliness of being a child confronting the climate crisis. She was mocked and dismissed by the powerful, yet she stood tall, sparking a global movement of youth demanding a livable planet.

And there have been countless others who have stood tall after being bent down: the farmworkers led by César Chávez, Desmond Tutu in South Africa, Martin Luther King Jr. in a Birmingham jail, and nameless mothers and grandmothers who kept marching, kept praying, and kept believing.

And every time they stood tall, strong men trembled. Every time they stood tall, chains cracked. Every time they stood tall, the Kingdom of God broke in just a little more.

The question is not whether Jesus can help people stand tall today. The question is whether we will join him. Will we dare to touch the wounds this world says are untouchable? Will we dare to lift up those our society keeps bent over? Will we dare to live like the Sabbath is real, that God’s rest and God’s restorative justice belong to everybody?

This is the vision of the Kingdom. Not just one person healed, but entire communities rising up, standing tall, rejoicing together with all.

Because, as Dr. Barber reminds us with the Poor People’s Campaign, when the bent-over stand tall, when the poor organize, when the oppressed resist, when the weary find their strength in faith, then the powers that profit from their suffering are put to shame.

That’s why the crowd rejoiced, and that’s why the rulers were humiliated. Because nothing frightens empire more than people who refuse to stay bent.

So, the question for us today is: Will we be content with a Sabbath that unties donkeys but leaves people bound? Or will we follow Jesus into the holy work of untying our neighbors, of lifting up the bent-over, of making straight what has been made crooked for too long by an anti-Christ spirit in our world?

The good news is that there’s another spirit in our world. The good news is that the spirit of the same Jesus who made that woman stand up is alive and moving today.

He is moving every time someone stands and demands living wages, every time someone stands and fights for universal health care, every time someone stands and calls for racial justice, and stands to end the scapegoating of and the cruelty to immigrants.

He is moving every time someone stands up and does something to help the bent-over stand tall.

And here’s the reality, because we are the body of Christ in this world, if we leave here today and do nothing, then the woman stays bent.

If we leave here today and stay silent, then Herod, and the religious powers who have forsaken the gospel to follow Herod, still win. If we leave here today and choose comfort over courage, then the powers will keep alive the lie that there is no alternative to the status quo.

But I declare to you today in the name of Jesus that there is an alternative! There is a better way! And it begins when the people of God stand tall, when they refuse to bow to Herod and refuse to look away from the suffering around us.

So, let us rise and stand up straight as that woman did. Let us lift our voices in praise, and let our praise spill into protest, and let our protest grow into policy, and let our policy become a new way of life.

Because when the church rises and stands tall, the world cannot stay bent! When God’s people stand up tall together, Herod trembles. And when the bent-over stand tall, that’s when the Kingdom of God breaks in!

So church, it’s time to rise and stand up!

It’s time to rise and stand up for justice!

To rise and stand tall for mercy!

Stand tall for peace! Stand tall love!

Stand until every child of God can stand tall and sing free!

May we always have the courage to see, the faith to act, and the love to untie any bond that keeps any one of God’s children bent down.

And may we rejoice with the crowd until every last one of us can stand tall and rejoice together. Amen.

I Have Seen the Lord!

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

John 20:1-18 NRSV

It’s Easter, and all over the world preachers are feeling the pressure to preach the better-than-the-average sermon. All week they’ve been burdened to come up with something insightful, something profound, to say about this story of stories, preferably something their congregations have never heard before. Oh, the pressure!

Each week for a sermon, I write, on average, 1,800 words. This is the number of words that I, with my seasoned homiletical and ecclesial acuity, have deemed theologically and linguistically necessary to bequeath the congregation an appropriate word from the Lord. And on the Sundays I need to be better than average, like Easter, I am always tempted to go a little longer, like upward to 2,000 words or more.

Now, my wife Lori believes that I should be able to write a sermon, and she’d prefer I write a sermon, even for Easter, with much fewer words. But Lori hasn’t been to seminary, I tell myself.

That’s why, by the way, every now and again, I throw in seminary words like “ecclesial” and smart-sounding words like “bequeath”—to convince the congregation, and myself, that I know what I’m doing up here. And we preachers especially like to use big words on Easter!

However, as I prepared for today’s sermon, I came to realize that Lori may be right.  In fact, esteemed professor of homiletics Karoline Lewis, points out that the best Easter sermon ever delivered, and the sermon we desperately need to hear again today, was nowhere close to 1,800 words. It contained 5. Lewis says that the best Easter sermon ever delivered was proclaimed by Mary Magdalene on that first Easter morning: “I have seen the Lord!”[i]

That’s it. There’s your Easter sermon. “I have seen the Lord!” Now, let’s sing a hymn, have communion, and pass the peace!

Now, because I don’t want to be accused of being lazy on Easter, I will attempt to say a little more. But I tend agree with Rev. Lewis that, too often, our preaching, especially on Easter, is just “too much –too much explanation, too much justification, too much rationalization.” She says our preaching is too much expository and not enough experiential. It’s too much illustrational and not enough incarnational. She argues preaching needs to be less performance and more personal, more down-to-earth, more authentic.

That struck a chord with me this week, as I recently heard local colleague make the shocking assertion, that on some days, he has this sinking feeling that God is not in Lynchburg.

Now, that’s a dark statement coming from anyone, but coming from a pastor in this town, it’s especially chilling. Almost as chilling as it is ironic with the vast number of churches in our city.

Last year, one of my guilty pleasures in life was binging the dark TV drama series called “Preacher.” Lori didn’t care for it. I loved it. It’s a story based on a comic book hero, a Texas Preacher, who’s on a mission in Louisiana searching for God who’s gone missing. God just got tired of being God one day, vacated the throne, got on motorcycle, and headed to New Orleans to listen to some good jazz and have a good time. It’s a very dark and rather bloody story about the chaos that ensues when God forsakes and abandons the world. All hell literally breaks loose as vampires, fallen angels, demons, and the devil himself wreak havoc upon the earth.

And my colleague says this is what it can sometimes feel like serving as a pastor in Lynchburg, Virginia. He says he sometimes wants to cry out like Jesus from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken us?”

Maybe we have had days when we have wanted to do the same.

The lack of affordable housing, the number of people living with food insecurity, the plans to cut spending on public schools and social services, the ugliness on the city council—it can all seem like God has left the city limits.

Just last week, an owner of a new restaurant told me that he recently served dinner to a member of the city council who had the hateful audacity to advise him to refuse service to members of the LGBTQ community.

And then we have the number of people who claim to be Christians or even “Champions for Christ” who support ways that the exact opposite of the way of the inclusive, universal, unconditional love that Jesus taught, modeled, and embodied.

Looking at some parts of our city, we can easily identify with Jesus when he lamented what seemed like the absence of God in Jerusalem, crying: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!”

And you don’t even need to be religious to believe that God may have even fled the country—a nation where people can be snatched from their homes and disappeared to a gulag in El Salvador without any recourse. Bishop William Barber notes: “Like the lynching trees of the South and the crosses of Rome, these public acts of brutality are designed to inspire fear that compels the masses to comply. But we cannot comply.”[ii]

This is why on this Easter Sunday, we need to hear the personal, authentic, first-person, five-word sermon of Mary Magdalene: “I have seen the Lord!” We need a first-hand witness of the resurrection, not a third-person account, confession, or creed.

In these dark, seemingly God-forsaken days, we don’t need to hear the stale and old: “He was crucified, dead, and buried; the third day he rose from the dead…” or “Christ the Lord is risen; he is risen indeed.” That’s nice, that’s good, but these days, we need more.

We need a first-person, eye-witness testimony. We need to hear of a new and fresh encounter. We need somebody to stand up before us today and exclaim: “I have seen the Lord!”

As we demonstrated during our Maundy Thursday service, the good news is that we can easily point out all the places in Lynchburg where we have seen the Lord, where there is resurrection in the midst of ruin; the light of new life in the shadows of death; love, when all that seems visible is hate. There’s much goodness, generosity and compassion in the midst of all the meanness, selfishness and cruelty: Parkview Mission, Interfaith Outreach, Meals on Wheels, The Free Clinic…It would take much more 1,800 words to name all of the non-profits and organizations that are being the hands and feet of the Lord in this town.

 But proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord,” means even more than that.

“I have seen the Lord” means personally bearing witness to the resurrection. It means being a first-person, eyewitness, living testimony of Easter.

In the hateful darkness of a violent world that has rejected the way of Jesus and would crucify him all over again if it got the chance, “I have seen the Lord” means demonstrating that there is another way of being in the world— a loving, justice-seeking, non-violent way that embodies all that is life-giving. It means living and giving and loving and serving in such a way, that when others see you, watch you, listen to you, they say: “Wait one second. Did I just see the Lord?”

“I have seen the Lord” insists that the ways of love will always win over the ways of hate.

“I have seen the Lord” affirms that the way of peace will always overcome the way of violence.

“I have seen the Lord” confirms that the truth of kindness, mercy and decency will always be louder than the con of fear, confusion, and chaos.

“I have seen the Lord” asserts that the voices of compassion will always be heard over the clamor of cruelty and retaliation.”

“I have seen the Lord” is what Gandhi proclaimed when he shared a vision of a world where all of creation and every living creature is revered and respected, thriving in peace and harmony, when all most can see is ecological devastation, violence, war, oppression, injustice, colonialism, and imperialism.

“I have seen the Lord” were the exact words of Martin Luther King Jr. when he preached on the day before his assassination: “I have seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

“I have seen the Lord” is a proclamation that neither death by starvation in India, nor death by a bullet in Memphis, nor death on a cross in Jerusalem, can prevent love from winning and justice from coming.

Mary’s proclamation “I have seen the Lord” proclaims not only that a single stone was rolled away 2,000 years ago, but countless stones are still being rolled away today, all the stones that are used to prevent new life from rising: racist stones blocking paths to citizenship; bigoted stones blocking the doors of closets; corrupt stones blocking the power of free speech and due process; greedy stones blocking care for the environment; deceptive stones blocking the truth of science and history; and violent stones blocking any possibility of new life, justice, and peace.

“I have seen the Lord” is the justice those are demanding on the behalf of Abrego Garcia and every person deported unjustly. It’s the defiance of Harvard University, and the cry of all protesting the rise of fascism.

“I have seen the Lord,” when we speak it into our own lives, become words that have the power to roll back all the stones that confine and constrain the possibility that liberty and justice, dignity and respect can be for all people.

But “I have seen the Lord” is so counter-cultural, so counter-intuitive, often defying what we see with our own eyes, that it can be difficult to speak it. Especially to speak it personally, authentically in the first-person, to speak it with faith and conviction. It’s much easier to walk out of this service this morning and recite a third-person creed, “Christ the Lord is risen. He is risen indeed” than it is to honestly say in the first-person, “I have seen the Lord!”

Perhaps, like anything difficult, we need to practice it, and practice it daily.

So, in what places do you need practice it today? In front of what tomb do you need proclaim resurrection today?

What stone in your life needs to be removed today so you can be free?

What’s preventing you today from experiencing the joy of new life? What is blocking you today from enjoying peace, possessing hope, and knowing love?

On this Easter morning, when we walk out of this church building, where’s the first place we need to go to proclaim: “I have seen the Lord!”

Who do we know that may be unable to say it today, but needs to hear it, because they have been hiding in the tombs too long?

Today, we thank God for Mary Magdalene, the preacher of the best Easter sermon ever proclaimed, the good news we all need to hear today: “I have seen the Lord!”

[i] Sermon inspired by the thoughts of Rev. Dr. Karoline Lewis shared in an article entitled: True Resurrection, March 20, 2016

[ii] From The Power of a Moral Opposition: A Holy Saturday Reflection, April 19, 2025.

We’re Climbing a Mountain

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C3 Comments

Sermon inspired from the Anti-Racism/Pro-Reconciliation Facilitator Training workshop presented by the Virginia Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) ARPR Ministry, Martinsville, VA, February 28-March 1, 2025

Luke 9:28-43a NRSV

I have an embarrassing confession to make this morning. I am afraid that some very shameful pictures of me have been posted on the internet. And to make matters worse, I know this will be hard for some of you to believe, but Lori, is with me in those pictures. We thought we were alone.

The pictures were taken on the very top of Sharp Top Mountain. Has anyone here seen them? It has been brought to my attention that some of you may have.

What makes these photographs so disgraceful and humiliating, is that when people see them and say to us, “Oh, I see that you and Lori climbed all the way to top of Sharp Top Mountain!” to be truthful, I must confess that we took the bus.

I know, you are disappointed.

And I am the one who posted the pictures, because the scene from the mountaintop is nothing less than glorious!

Do you want to hear something more disappointing?  For more than thirty years, I have been preaching on Transfiguration Sunday recounting the story of Jesus taking Peter, James, and John to the mountaintop to experience something glorious, and I do not remember ever considering how difficult it is to climb a mountain. Because as far as I know, I don’t believe there were any buses in service for them to take.

And to add to my shame, the mountain that I climbed riding safely in a comfortable, climate-controlled bus, is visible almost everywhere I go in and around Lynchburg, standing as symbol of my shame!

But seeing this mountain as I am driving around, I also think about giving myself a second chance to actually climb it one day. But it’s been a year and a half, and I am still waiting for that perfect day, that day when I don’t have so many other things on my calendar, that day when the weather conditions are just right, when the wind is calm, when I know there’s going little temperature change from the bottom to the top, when the snakes, ticks, bears, coyotes and poison ivy are more scarce, and, of course, when I am in a little better physical shape.

There are so many obstacles to climb a mountain! So many excuses that can be made. Because glory doesn’t happen without some thoughtful planning, some arduous work, some risk of danger, some level of endurance, and even some pain.

On the way to glory, there can be twists and turns. And I am not just talking about ankles and knees. On the way up, sometimes you may have to take a downward turn, even curving around backwards, before heading back up. And because of that, the road is always long. A short mile and a half can take hours.

Unseen forces like gravity are constantly working against you, wearing you down, pulling you in the opposite direction, doing all it can to slow you down, or stop you in your tracks. Yes, there’s some hope on the journey. In some places there are glimpses of the summit, but there’s also self-doubt on the journey and moments of despair.

Perhaps that is why Jesus took Peter, James and John and went mountain climbing—to teach them that glory doesn’t happen without some work. That any vision of the culmination of the law and the prophets and the messiah cannot be seen, transformation and transfiguration cannot occur, liberation and reconciliation cannot be experienced without some serious climbing, without some risk along the way, without unseen forces and entities wearing you down along the way, without a few setbacks along the way.

Perhaps Jesus was trying to teach them that when it comes to real change, glorious change, there’s no such thing as a convenient and comfortable bus that is going to pick you up to take you safely and quickly to the summit. Reaching the summit takes hard work. It takes much energy, and a lot of time. It takes courage, and it takes faith.

So, maybe that is why Luke follows the story of Jesus and the disciples’ mountain climbing adventure with the story of a boy possessed by some dark and evil force.

Now we can only speculate what kind of evil tormented that boy, that put him in physical, psychosocial, or spiritual chains. Maybe he had epilepsy, a traumatic brain injury, or some other disability. But maybe the systems of his day had put him in some place of disadvantage. Perhaps he suffered discrimination and prejudice because of the color of his skin. Maybe he was suffering from the sting of rejection for being non-binary or gay.

We just know that the disciples were unable to do anything to begin to liberate to the boy, to break the chains, to challenge the systems of injustice, to confront the wicked authorities and evil forces that were oppressing the boy, that were refusing to see the image of God in the boy. And like my inability to climb Sharp Top Mountain, I am sure they had plenty of excuses. Maybe they were waiting for some quick and easy solution.

Thus, comes the scathing indictment from Jesus: “You faithless and perverse generation!”

Jesus says to those who claim to be his followers but fail to do the holy work of liberation: “You faithless and perverse generation!” Can you imagine Jesus saying such a thing today? I think you can—

As we are certainly witnessing a perversion of the gospel as a large swath of Christianity has been corrupted to favor a faithless authoritarian over a faithful patriot, favor billionaires over the poor, and favor the privileged (whether that privilege comes from race, gender, sexuality, or money), over anyone who is different.

The world dashes the poor against the rocks of hunger, war, and greed every day. In the words of theologian Cláudio Carvalhaes: “The economic beast controlled by a few demons is making people [today] convulse day and night.”

The immigrant, the refugee, the homeless, the incarcerated, the sick who cannot afford their medications, the mothers who work three jobs to make a minimum wage to feed her children, the trans boy or girl unseen by their country, the victims of mass deportation, the broken families, the traumatized children—they are all like that boy, “thrown into the shadows of our society, convulsing day and night right in front of us!”

And the Christians who have resisted worshipping the beast, those whose faith has not been perverted— those who listen the cries of the left-out and left-behind, who listen to the laments from their friends who are from Ukraine or know people in Ukraine, or are farmers, researchers, or federal workers—we can certainly feel powerless. We can become frozen in our tracks, not knowing what to do, what steps to take to break the chains. And if we can’t find an easy solution or some quick fix, find a meme on social media that will quickly change some minds, come up with some program or event to make it all right, make some real progress to give us some instant gratification, we can become stuck, paralyzed, and, then do absolutely nothing. And we become like the disciples who are rebuked by Jesus.

Yes, perhaps Luke tells us the story of the disciples’ failure to liberate the boy on the heels of the story of the Mount of Transfiguration to teach us that the path to transformation, liberation, restoration, and reconciliation, the road to justice, equity, and freedom, is like climbing a mountain.

It is a long, tedious journey. It is a risky, difficult, hopeful, and sometimes disappointing process. Along the way, there are always forces working against us. One moment we can see the summit and the next moment, a cloud of doubt rolls in, and we wonder if reaching the summit is ever a possibility. Sometimes we take three steps forward only to take four steps backward.

As I reflect back on Black History Month, I become irritated, as I have heard people talk about the Civil Rights movement like it is ancient history, that the fight for equality and justice has been won, that racism is an evil from the past which has been defeated, a sin of the country that should be forgiven, and even forgotten. That we have somehow reached the mountaintop that Martin Luther King Jr referenced in his sermon on April 3, 1968, the day before his assassination.

When the truth is that the Civil Rights movement is far from over. In 2025, the work of justice and liberation continues. The road to glory and reconciliation is a long road that faithful people are traveling today. We are still climbing to reach Dr. King’s mountaintop. While we’re making some headway, there are powerful forces pulling us back.

That is why I believe the season of Lent is so important for the follower of Jesus. For Lent has been called a journey to resurrection, a journey to glory. And there are too many Christians today who ignore or skip this journey by hopping on a bus to get straight to Easter!

That’s why the most attended Christian worship service is on Easter Sunday, while the least attended service is on Ash Wednesday or on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday.

However, Ash Wednesday and Lent remind us that the journey to glory takes some contrition, it requires some sacrifice, it involves some work. It is hard work, but it is also holy work. It is the work we were created by God to do, the road we are called by to travel, the mountain we are destined by God to climb. Thus, when we are climbing, every step we take is on holy ground.

And yes, there will be setbacks. There will be times of disappointment, even moments of despair. But Lent teaches us that those of us with a faith that has not been perverted must keep climbing.

When a citizen calls our LGBTQ neighbors abominations at a public meeting of the city council, we must keep climbing.

And when that citizen claims he has suffered religious persecution after he is surprisingly reprimanded by a council member, we must keep climbing.

When we realize our nation is no longer the leader of the free world for the very first time in our lifetime, we must keep climbing.

While perverse politics seek to turn back to clock on civil rights, school segregation, voting rights, and women’s rights, we must keep climbing.

As a faithless and perverse congress tries to take away Medicaid from our most vulnerable citizens among us, we must keep climbing.

When our friends, family or coworkers try to talk us down from the mountain, when unseen forces are pulling us down, when the wicked winds howl and knock us down, we must get up, and keep climbing.

When we are gaslighted by the perverted and faithless privileged, telling us that we no longer have to climb, that we have already reached the summit, we must keep climbing.

And knowing that we may not reach the mountaintop and witness the glory in our lifetimes, we are going to train our children, and if we live long enough, our children’s children, to keep climbing.

Knowing that when we climb, wherever we are on the journey, whatever position or situation we may find ourselves in, when we climb, even if we are pushed back and knocked off our feet, when we climb, even if we are crawling down on our hands and knees, when we climb, we are always on holy ground.

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.

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

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

Luke 4:14-30 NRSV

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

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

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

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

“Look! There he is!”

“My, hasn’t he grown!”

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

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

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

   because he has anointed me

     to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

   and recovery of sight to the blind,

     to let the oppressed go free,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, amen, brother! Preach it!

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

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

“That’s right!” someone shouted!

Another yells: “Charity begins at home!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overcome with rage, the congregation turns on Jesus.

Some demand an apology.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Time for Some Serious Soul-Searching

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

Mark 9:38-50 NRSV

In Mrs. Welch’s sixth grade class back in 1977, I sat beside one of the coolest boys in school. He was the new kid, a foreigner from some distant land, like New Jersey. His name was Robbie something-or-another. All I remember about his last name was that it was hard to spell and funny-sounding to me. Robbie wore a leather jacket like the Fonz, and he had this long, jet black, wavy, Donnie Osmond hair. He could not have been more popular. And with my cowlicks, braces, low self-esteem from five years of speech therapy, and all-around awkwardness, he got on my last nerve.

One day in class, Robbie whispered: “Hey Jarrett, you wanna to see my switchblade?” Being a naïve little boy, I said: “You don’t have a switchblade. Switchblades are not allowed in school.”  He then pulled a shiny, steel-plated case out of his pocket and showed it to me. I may have been awkward, but I was newly baptized Christian who knew right from wrong, so without hesitation, I got up from my desk, walked up to the teacher’s desk and told Mrs. Welch that Robbie had brought a switchblade to school.

As I stood smugly at her desk, Mrs. Welch called Robbie up and asked him if he had brought a knife to school. Robbie reached into his pocket and pulled what appeared to be the knife. He then pushed the button and ejected a long black comb and started combing his wavy Donnie Osmond hair.

Putting the comb back into his pocket, Robbie looked at me and sneered: “You little tattle-tail!” And, I will never forget the disappointed look Mrs. Welch gave me before I turned and took the walk of shame back to my seat. That was the day I learned how uncool it can be to be a tattle-tail.

And this morning, we read where the disciple John learns a similar lesson.

John, thinking he was being a good Christian, goes up to Jesus and says: “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons… and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”  Like a jealous sixth-grader running to the teacher to tell on someone who is breaking the rules, John believes Jesus is going to be pleased with the information. But Jesus says, “Do not stop him…Whoever is not against us, is for us.”

Although the obvious reason I was so eager to tell on Robbie was jealousy, I cannot help but to think that if Robbie had been one of my friends with whom I had grown up, maybe someone from my youth group at church, I probably would not have been so eager to run to the teacher that day. But Robbie was an outsider. He had a funny last name. He was from some far-off land called New Jersey. And not only was he a foreigner, he was a Donnie Osmond look-alike foreigner who was succeeding in being something that I was utterly failing to be: cool.

And to understand John’s real problem with this outsider who was casting out demons, we need to go back and read verses 14-19 in this same chapter.

Jesus sees a crowd where people are arguing and asks them what they are arguing about.

Someone from the crowd answered him, “My son has a spirit that makes him unable to speak; and whenever it seizes him, it dashes him down; and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid; and I asked your disciples to cast it out, but they could not do so.”

Saying Jesus is unhappy is an understatement:

You faithless generation, how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you? [then we can almost see him rolling his eyes as he says] Bring him to me.

The problem for John was that this one who made him run to the teacher was not only an outsider, he was successful doing something that the disciples were utterly failing to do: “casting out demons.” And Jesus says: “Don’t stop him, for whoever is doing such work of exorcising the demons in our world is clearly on our side!”

Now, when we read this text here in the 21st century describing someone who “seizes,” is “suddenly unable to speak,” who “falls to the ground foaming and grinding his teeth,” and “becoming rigid,” it is obvious to us that what is being described is someone experiencing an epileptic seizure. If this happens to anyone here this morning, you can bet we’re calling 911. We will not be having a demon exorcism!

But as you have heard be say before, I love the ancient language of “casting out demons,” for it infers much more than healing the sick. It infers bringing evil into light, challenging the powers of injustice, and liberating the oppressed. It infers calling out and casting out the evil forces in our world that are hurting people.

So, here we have John and the disciples who had just been chastised by Jesus for lacking the faith to liberate people who are oppressed, for failing to do the work of Jesus in the world. And here’s John seeing an outsider successfully doing the work.

Can you believe that? That there are actually some people outside the church, who do not claim to be Christian, who act more like Jesus than some people who attend church every Sunday? Of course, we can.

As author and outspoken advocate for global peace and non-violence, Matthew Distfano, prophetically points out: “Kind atheists are closer to Jesus than mean Christians.”

As a Christian pastor, I would much rather lead a small group of atheists and agnostics who believe that loving our neighbors as ourselves is the most important thing we can do on this earth, than lead a mega-church of believers who never doubt the existence of God, but who are hateful or indifferent to the needs to others.

The sad reality is that Christians who confidently sing Blessed Assurance on Sunday mornings can be the greatest stumbling block to those who need to experience the grace and love of God today.

I believe this is why Jesus uses such disturbing language to illustrate how important it is that his disciples do some serious soul-searching. As former Southern Baptist leader Russell Moore was quoted this week in the Atlantic: “If we’re willing to see children terrorized because of a false rumor about Haitian immigrants, we should ask who abducted our conscience, not someone’s pet.”

Jesus said that his disciples need to do some serious introspection to determine if they are doing some things or not doing some things that serve as a stumbling block for others, that may prevent someone from knowing God’s extravagant grace and from experiencing God’s liberating love?  Jesus underscores the seriousness of such soul-searching by saying that if you are going to put up any obstacle between people and God’s love, it’s better to tie huge millstone around your neck and jump in the ocean!

Then, to further underscore how important self-criticism is, Jesus uses some gruesome metaphors to get our attention: self-mutilation, an ever-active worm which eats the flesh, and an unquenchable fire. If your hand, the things you do; if your feet, the places you go; do nothing to help someone who needs healing, wholeness and liberation, or worse, adds to their pain, or participates in their oppression, then cut them off, for it is better to have one hand or one foot than your whole body go into an unquenchable fire!

And if your eye prevents you from loving a neighbor, because of the way you see at that neighbor, or the way you unable to see that neighbor, Mark doesn’t say “pluck it out” as Matthew says, Mark writes that Jesus emphatically said, “tear it out!”

I believe Jesus is saying that he can not over emphasize the importance of doing the serious and holy work of introspection and soul-searching, making absolute certain that we are following the way of love, kindness, and mercy, the way of peace and justice, making certain that none our actions or our inactions are hurting our neighbors.

Such soul-searching is badly needed today as people of faith find themselves standing today on the opposite sides of a culture war where people on both sides claim to be standing on the side of Jesus.

So, a good question for all Christians today is: “How do we know we are for Jesus and not against Jesus?”

Could it be that it really is not that complicated? Could it be that John learned his lesson that Jesus teaches him in our lesson this morning as evidenced by his quote of Jesus we read in John 13:

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, [in other words, this is how you will know that you are for me and not against me] if you have love for one another (John 13:34-35 NRSV).

In this most divisive time, if there has ever been a time for Christian Americans to do some serious soul-searching, it is now.

Are we standing on the side of the liberating love that Jesus taught, modeled and embodied? Do our actions liberate people who are being oppressed today? Or do our actions, or our inactions, support the oppression of people?

Are we calling out the powers of injustice that are hurting people today, making them less free, less safe, making them feel less human? And are we casting out these powers by casting our votes in the next 36 days?

Or are we standing today for something else? If we are not standing for liberating love, what are we standing for? Is it pride? Is it power and privilege? Is about being superior to another, more holy, more righteous, more entitled? Is it about fear? Is it about greed? Is it about jealousy?

Are we standing with Jesus and with people of all faiths and even no faith who standing today on the side of love? Or are we standing against them?

Yes, now is certainly the time in this nation for some serious soul-searching. Amen.

Free to Follow Jesus

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

Mark 6:6-13 NRSV

What a surreal Fourth of July this has been following the Supreme Court’s decision that Presidents who break our laws are immune to prosecution, that a president with a flawed character can do whatever they want to do and get away with it, if it is deemed an official act.

As outrageous as it is, I am afraid that this is how many in our country have always defined the concept of freedom. It is a type of freedom that serves the privileged and the powerful, as it figuratively, and sometimes literally, places shackles on all others. It is a type of freedom that is for some of the people and never for all the of the people.

Freedom (life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness) is part of our identity as a nation, a sacred concept for which blood has been shed. Yet, as history proves, it is a concept that is far from perfect.

History reveals a national economy built on the genocide of native people, slavery, Jim Crow laws, a denial of voting rights for women, and LGBTQ oppression.

For some with privilege and power today, freedom means the right to deny workers a living wage and the right to refuse service to people they find objectionable. They use the iconic Revolutionary War motto “Don’t Tread on Me” to express their disdain for their taxes being used to feed impoverished children at school or to provide SNAP benefits to the parents of those children.

For some, religious liberty means the right to hurt their neighbors instead of the freedom to love them. It is all about self-interest with no regard for others, especially minorities. Although they claim to be Christian, their beliefs and actions are most accurately described as “anti-Christ.”

The good news is (and oh how we need some good news today) I know many people who have committed themselves to follow the way of love that Christ taught and embodied—a powerful, liberating way of love that lets freedom ring for all.

I am looking at a whole room of people who believe with the Apostle Paul that we are called to freedom, not to indulge in our selfish impulses, but to serve one another in love, people who believe they are free, not only to love themselves, but to love their neighbors as themselves.

I am looking at a room full of people who are concerned with freedom for others as much as they are concerned with freedom for themselves, who believe freedom brings both the opportunity and the responsibility to serve and to stand for others, not simply to amass personal rights and privileges at the expense of others.[i]

I see people who have chosen to use their freedom to follow Jesus as disciples, people who are fulfilling what it truly means to be the church in an oppressive world, unlike some in the church today who are doing the exact opposite, actually supporting systems of oppression.

When I think about the purpose of the church, how the church should serve in today’s world, I am constantly drawn to Mark 6 and this account of Jesus sending the disciples into the world for the very first time to be disciples. So much so, it was the source of inspiration for our new expression of church in New Orleans that Lori and I were a part of.

In verse 6 we read:

6aAnd he was amazed at their unbelief. 

I wonder if Jesus would be amazed at the unbelief of some in the church today. Having been a part of the church my entire life, I know I am often amazed when I consider how many in the church do not seem to believe that we are called to live, love and serve in the selfless, sacrificial way of Jesus. Instead, they have accepted an individualistic religion where they “accept Jesus,” “receive Jesus,” “study Jesus,” and “worship Jesus”; not actually “follow Jesus.”

I wonder if Jesus is amazed by the number of people who believe the Kingdom of God is just some place we go to after we die, instead of something we are supposed to work at, to give of ourselves to, to pour ourselves out for, to sacrifice to create right here on earth. I wonder if Jesus is amazed every time people pray: “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven,” and then don’t do a thing to make it happen!

6bThen he went about among the villages teaching.

Jesus was among the people, all the people, because Jesus was for all the people. Jesus went village to village teaching everyone that the most important thing we can do in this world is to love our neighbors as ourselves, and here in this text, we read that he expects his disciples to do the very same thing.

7He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 

To me, one of the most disturbing political signs that I see in some yards today are the ones that say: “Jesus 2024 – Our Only Hope.” Not only do these signs support a dangerous Christian Nationalism making our Jewish, Muslim, and Hindu neighbors feel like second-class citizens, but they support an individualism that is opposed to the mission of Jesus as Jesus never intended to be on a mission to transform and save the world by himself. In what could be described as a call to democracy, Jesus called and gave authority and power to people to join him on that mission. He sent them out doing the very things that he did, some very big things like: challenging the unclean spirits: the spirits of war, selfishness, greed, poverty, all kinds of bigotry, and any type of oppression.

8He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 

Freedom for many means the freedom to acquire and accumulate as much wealth as possible without any sense of responsibility to share any of that wealth. Jesus, however, calls people to live simply so they are able to give generously.

10He said to them, ‘Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.’ 

 Jesus warns that if we teach others the importance of using our freedom to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, we will not be received by everyone. There will always be those who will choose to live solely for themselves instead of for others. But we should never let that discourage or stop us. We should peacefully but persistently keep moving forward, keep working, and keep doing what we have been called to do.

12So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 

Disciples go out and proclaim that all should repent of their selfish, self-centered, self-preserving ways and embrace a way of freedom that is far from individualistic, but a way of freedom that is profoundly connected with the well-being of everyone.

13They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

We are called to stand up and speak out against the evil forces in our world. We are called to restore and to heal. We are called to be a courageous, peace-making, justice-creating, evil-exorcising, hope-giving movement for wholeness in our fragmented world!

And today, perhaps more than ever, I am grateful that you with so many others are offering this world hope by answering this call, as we journey towards a more perfect union, realizing the truth that all people are created equal and freedom is for all.

In his Fourth of July email, prophetic preacher John Pavlovitz wrote the following:

It is highly probable that it will get much worse before it gets better. And yet, no matter how dire things become, we still have our hands and our voices and our gifts and resources and platforms and privilege and lives to leverage to make it less dire for someone.

I’m not writing to tell you how bad things are…I’m [writing] to remind you how good you are.

This is not about anyone else’s inhumanity. It’s about your humanity.

It’s not about one group of people’s cruelty. It’s about your empathy…

In some ways it doesn’t matter who is in the seats of power.

It doesn’t matter how horrible the legislation that gets passed.

It doesn’t matter how much the evangelical church rejects Jesus and his teachings.

It doesn’t matter how compromised the courts are.

It doesn’t matter how predatory the preachers or the politicians become.

That is almost irrelevant.

Their violence is not the point.

Your capacity for love is the point.

And that love is the only plan.

Pavlovitz continues:

So yes, we will grieve and lament the unthinkable news this week. We will feel the sickness on this holiday [celebrating] a freedom that feels as though it’s evaporating—and then, we will get on to the work of fighting like hell to make sure that it doesn’t. Be greatly encouraged.

Amen.

[i] Adapted from article by Rev. Dr. Brett Opalinski, Emory University Candler School of Theology

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/

Deviled Ham

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

torches2

Luke 8:26-39 NRSV

Today’s gospel lesson is one of my favorite stories of Jesus. There is just so much from which to glean from all of the rich symbolism in this story.

Then they arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee.

The opposite of Galilee. The opposite of home. The opposite of familiarity. The opposite of comfort. The opposite of sanctuary.

I believe it is important for the church today to note that the man in this story would have never had an encounter with Jesus, an encounter that brought him liberation, healing and restoration, if Jesus and his disciples stayed in Galilee.

This is one of the reasons I am so grateful for our Disciples Women Fellowship that has chosen to serve at Hope Campus twice a month. If we want to follow Jesus as his disciples, the church must be willing to leave the sanctuary to encounter people who need the liberation, healing and restoration that we know the love of God can bring.

As he stepped out on land,

Jesus and his disciples had just encountered a storm out on the lake, and now, as soon as Jesus steps out of the boat, they encounter a different kind of storm.

 a man of the city who had demons met him.

A man of the city—reminds me of another story of Luke, when “a woman of the city who was a sinner,” anoints Jesus’ feet. Right away, we get the suspicion that this man had a sinful reputation.

For a long time, he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs.

And here is where we begin to get the picture that this man of the city is not the only sinner in this story. He is unnamed, naked, and homeless, and he lives among the dead. He is treated as if he was no longer alive, as if he did not exist. He is fully debased, degraded and dehumanized with no rights, no privileges, no power, and no place whatsoever in society.

 Jesus then asked him, “What is your name?” He said, “Legion”; for many demons had entered him.

He has been driven to the margins of life by the Legion. Legion is a technical term for a division of the Roman Army. Thus, it is revealed that this man is a victim of the Roman Empire and its oppressive systems that do great harm to people like him.

We don’t know exactly what that means, “people like him,” but, sadly, we could make some good guesses:

Could it be that he spoke a foreign language? Was he an undocumented immigrant or refugee? Perhaps he had a different skin color? Maybe he practiced some kind of minority religion? Did he have cerebral palsy, autism, a Traumatic Brain Injury, down’s syndrome, or post-traumatic stress disorder? Did he suffer with seizures? Could it be that he suffered with some sort of mental illness? Might it be that he was gay or transgendered?

Not only is he a victim of unjust political systems, he is also a victim of his community. Unfortunately, that is the power of government: if the state leaders are against you, then it gives permission for society to be against you.

He’s labeled “demon possessed” which means he has been fully “other-ized.”

There is no evidence that he has ever harmed anyone, yet, he is “bound with chains and shackles” and “kept under guard.”

He is not to be counted in the census. There is no path to citizenship, no process to appeal. There is no grace.In an act of gross dehumanization, he is forced to live among the dead until he dies.

This is the evil of our world. It is not a spirit that might make us take off all of our clothes and take up residence in a cemetery. No, the evil of this world is the the chaining of this man, the oppression of this man, the dehumanizing treatment of this man, treating him as if he did not exist among the living, shackling him naked in a graveyard, is the true demonic evil in this story.

And for Jesus and his followers, this type of evil should always be brought out and driven out. Jesus is never happy when any person is demeaned, degraded, dehumanized and excluded from community. Whenever Jesus encounters chains, Jesus breaks the chains. The good news is that every time we draw a line that keeps people out, Jesus is with the people on the other side of that line.

This demonic evil, this anti-Christ spirit that possessed the state and the culture to oppress this man is further revealed in the fascinating account of the demons leaving the man and entering a herd of pigs that were minding their own business, innocently feeding on a hillside. As soon as the pigs get infected by the demons, they immediately rush down a steep bank, and they drown in the lake.

I once heard a preacher joke that it is right here in this story that we have the first recorded instance of “deviled ham.”

I know, it’s a terrible joke. Sounds like the kind of thing we might hear Jim Creekmore might say. The poor pigs. What did they do to deserve to become agents of evil? And how could Jesus do such an inhumane thing to any of God’s beloved creatures?

However, we soon discover that these poor pigs were infected with evil long before Jesus showed up.

Notice what happens when Jesus liberates this man (verse 37). When they find the man is liberated, do all the people thank Jesus? No, all the people, “all the people in the surrounding country beg Jesus to leave their presence.”

The demonic evil here is not only the oppression of this man by unjust political systems and a fearful culture, but that the people valued their pigs more than the man’s liberation. The people would rather keep their pigs, their income, their stock values, their privilege and power, rather than see this man set free. This is what made this herd of ham so deviled.

If it means losing some pigs, keep the man shackled.

If it means losing some pigs, crucify the liberator.

If it means losing some pigs, succeed from the union.

If it means losing some pigs, assassinate the preacher.

If it means losing some pigs, suppress the vote.

If it means losing some pigs, oppose the minimum wage.

If it means losing some pigs, then ban foreign nationals of another religion. Separate families. Close the border.

If it means losing some pigs, then resist equality, forget fairness and defend discrimination.

If it means losing some pigs, then keep quiet. Stay silent and stay put. Learn to live with injustice.

If it means losing some pigs, then stomach the murder of children. Be okay with torture. Endure endless war.

If it means losing some pigs, then water down the gospel. Ignore evil. Neglect the poor. Send the stranger away. Don’t feed the hungry. Don’t heal the sick, and whatever you do, don’t do anything to follow the sacrificial way of Jesus. Don’t love others as you love yourselves.

If it means losing some pigs, keep the man naked, chained and guarded.

The truth is, that whenever a person or a group is liberated from oppression, there is another person or group that has some deviled ham to lose, some things that they value more than another’s freedom.

So, a good question for us is, what is our deviled ham? What do we value more than another’s freedom?

Patriarchy? White supremacy? Heterosexism? Religious superiority? Homogenous cities and neighborhoods? Homogenous churches? Cheap fast food? Inexpensive coffee? Inexpensive clothing? Easy and quick access to guns?

Another question is: are we ready to leave Galilee? Leave the familiar and the comfortable in order to bring liberation, healing and restoration to another. Are we willing to leave home so others can have a home?

The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying,

“Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” [Restored to his community,] he proclaimed throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.

Desiree Adaway, a consultant, trainer, and coach who helps to build equitable and inclusive working environments in companies and organizations including: IBM, United Airlines, The Girl Scouts, and Rotary International, writes:

We are all socialized into systems that oppress.

We learn to accept oppression as normal.

We are born into a social system which teaches us to accept things as they are.

We are rewarded for accepting things as they are.

We are congratulated for accepting things as they are.

We become “model members of society” when we accept things as they are.

We gain comfort, money, connections and power when we accept things as they are. People who go against the grain, pay the price.

I know [there’s] a tiny voice deep in your heart is saying “I do not oppress people.”

That might be true, you may not actively oppress others- but here is the reality- oppression is still happening, because this cycle and the systems they support continue to run uninterrupted.

Oppression is the norm, not the exception.

Justice is the exception, not the norm.

Institutions influence individuals and individuals influence institutions.

This process is pervasive, consistent, circular, self-perpetuating, and invisible.

The simplest thing to do is nothing.

But we have failed to realize that we have become participants in our own oppression by doing nothing.

Will you take responsibility for the oppression that continues? Will you stand up and confront the systems, rules, and norms?

How, where, and when you confront injustice is irrelevant, as long as you do it.

You and I are responsible for interrupting oppression. We are responsible for dismantling it. We are responsible for creating new systems and ways to share social power.

Society will not transform itself. We have to break the chains.

We all have to pay the price, so that can happen.

Let’s get to work y’all, because freedom ain’t free.[i]

[i]https://desireeadaway.com