Tag: love

Disciples Are on the Side of Witches

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Luke 18:9-14

You know, it’s a strange thing to be called unholy for trying to love like Jesus. I believe I shared that time with you when I was called “a demon” in a resturant in Fort Smith, Arkansas.

This stranger who disapproved of the sexuality of the person with whom I just finished sharing a meal, approached me as I was leaving with a question: “You do know what the law says about her don’t you?” I said, “Arkansas law?” He said, “No, God’s law.”

I said, “Well, Jesus said that the greatest law is to love our neighbors as ourselves.”

He walked away, scribbled something on his receipt and handed it to the waiter who then showed it to me: ‘Beware, he’s a demon in disguise.’”

It would be interesting to know how many people drive by our church, see the Pride flag, and decide they already know who we are:

“That’s the liberal church.” “That’s the church that’ll let anybody in.” “That’s the church that doesn’t believe the Bible.”

And I smile. Because that’s exactly what they said about Jesus!

The truth is: if you’re going to follow the one who touched lepers, elevated the status of women, proclaimed that the differently sexual were born that way, welcomed tax collectors, and ate and drank with sinners, you’re bound to get called some names. You’ll be accused of going too far, being too soft, loving too much. And you’ll be demonized for it.

There are probably some in this town who suspect that what we disciples do inside these walls during this hour is akin to some kind of witchcraft. So, just in case they’ve tuned into our YouTube channel to check out what demonic spells this false prophet is brewin’ up, to see what kind of voodoo we do, on this Sunday before Halloween, I want to make what may sound like a shocking confession:

Disciples stand firmly on the side of witches.

Now that I have their attention, maybe they’ll stick around to hear this story that Jesus told.

Two men went to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, religious, respected, and righteous. The other was a tax collector, despised, and distrusted, and demeaned.

The Pharisee stood tall and prayed proudly: “Thank God I’m not like other people—thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like that tax collector over there.”

Meanwhile, the tax collector stood far off, head bowed, hand to his chest, praying, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

And Jesus said, “The tax collector went home justified, rather than the Pharisee.”

The Pharisee had the problem that many in the church still have today. The Pharisee defined his holiness by “those people” he put down. He could only feel righteous if someone else was condemned. And that’s exactly how all witch hunts begin, with a prayer that says, “Thank God I’m not like them.”

In 1692, this was the prayer that was whispered and shouted all over Salem, Massachusetts. Fear was in the air: fear of women who had some power, women who refused to be submissive and quiet; fear of the patriarchy losing control. Preachers thundered from their pulpits. Neighbors accused neighbors. Hysteria spread. And before it was over, 200 people were accused of witchcraft, 30 were convicted, and 19 were hanged, mostly women.

But the Salem Witch Trials were never about witches. It was about a religion poisoned by fear. It was about a faith so fragile, so shallow, that it needed scapegoats to survive. It was about a church that was so desperate to justify their own purity that it demonized and destroyed the children of God. The Puritans thought they were defending God’s honor, but they were really defending their own control.

The bad news is that this spirit didn’t die in 1692, as every generation has had its witch hunts. Every age has Pharisees who pray, “Thank God we’re not like them.”

We saw it on the ships carrying enslaved Africans in chains across the Atlantic, justified by a twisted theology that said dark-skinned bodies were less human.

We saw it in Nazi Germany, where millions of Jewish people were branded evil and exterminated in the name of “purity.”

We saw in the McCarthy hearings, when careers and lives were ruined because someone was accused of being “un-American.”

We saw it in the Jim Crow South, where people went to church on Sunday morning and attended a lynching in that evening.

We saw it after 9-11 when all Muslims were blamed for the sins of extremists.

And we see it today whenever our LGBTQ siblings are called “abominations,” when trans youth are targeted by hateful politics, when poor people are labeled “parasites,” when immigrants are demonized as “invaders,” and whenever women are made to feel inferior to men.

We see it when vanity is prioritized over humanity, as the powerful dismiss the hungry while they destroy the East Wing of the White House to build a golden ballroom.

Every witch hunt begins the same way: with fear dressed up as faith and cruelty justified as conviction. Pure evil, the worst evil in history has always been born when people believed that others were less than.

And if you dare speak out against such evil, the ones who demonize the witch will demonize you. But as Disciples, that’s what we have been called to do, because we follow the One who always exposed the evil spirit of fear for what it is.

When Jesus sat down with tax collectors, he was breaking the spell of self-righteousness. When he healed the lepers, he was undoing centuries of religious purity laws. When he talked with the Samaritan woman at the well, he was crossing every line of gender, race, and religion. When he liberated those the people believed to be possessed, he was calling out systemic oppression.

And for that, they said he was possessed. They labeled him a heretic. They called him a glutton, a drunkard, and “a friend of sinners”—all just another way of calling him a witch.

So yes, disciples are on the side of witches. We stand firmly on the side of the accused, the condemned, and the cast out. Because that’s where Jesus stands, and that where love always leads us.

The Radical Welcome we practice here at First Christian Church should never be mistaken for southern hospitality or polite piety. Our welcome is protest. It’s the refusal to let fear dictate who belongs and who doesn’t belong at God’s table. Every time we open our doors to someone the world has rejected, we’re breaking the spell of Salem all over again. Every time we affirm the dignity of someone who’s been told they are less than, we’re undoing the curse of dehumanization.

And that always makes some people uncomfortable. It made the Pharisees uncomfortable. It made the Puritans uncomfortable. And makes all those today whose faith has been hijacked by a spirit of fear uncomfortable.

But that’s okay. Because comfort has never been the goal of the gospel. Transformation is. The church’s mission has never been to police the gates of heaven but to tear down the walls that keep anyone from seeing how wide the gates really are.

That’s the Revolutionary love we have been called to practice. It’s a love that doesn’t just include but transforms. It’s a love that refuses to see anyone as “less than,” not even those who demonize us.

It was this Revolutionary love that propelled Jesus to non-violently pick up and carry a cross while praying for the forgiveness of those who were forcing him to carry it.

It’s what led Dr. King to face dogs and firehoses without surrendering to hate.

It’s what gave Fannie Lou Hamer the courage to keep singing freedom songs after she was beaten in a Mississippi jail.

It’s what led Desmond Tutu to preach forgiveness in a nation soaked in blood.

Revolutionary love is defiant. Revolutionary love stands up to evil and says, “You will not make me hate you.”

It stands up to even those in power whose hearts seem hardened, whose empathy seems long gone, and whose ambition has blinded them to mercy, and says, “I still believe in your humanity.”

That’s what it means to be a disciple of Jesus in a witch-hunting world. Not to join the crowd shouting, “Crucify him,” but to hang beside the condemned and whisper: “You are not alone. Look, I’m on your side. I will be with you, and you will be with me, forever.”

So, when people call us “that church,” the one with the flag, the one that welcomes everyone, the one that’s too political, too affirming, too much, I say, “praise God!”

Because that means we’re standing where Jesus stood. That means we’re loving in ways that make the stokers of fear and the sowers of division nervous. That means we’re living the kind of gospel that still turns the world upside down!

Yes, we could save ourselves from some ridicule if we took down our flag, but our calling is not to just to be saved. Our calling is to be faithful. Our calling is to follow Jesus by standing with those accused of being “too different” or “too much.”

Because disciples are not on the side of those who judge and condemn. We’re on the side of the witches. We’re on the side of the enslaved, the lynched, the silenced, the scapegoated, the outcast, and the crucified. We’re on the side of those who have been demonized by sick religion and dismissed by worldly power. And we stand there not out of pity, but in solidarity, and we know the God of mercy stands there too.

The kingdom Jesus preached is not built by purity or perfection. It’s built by mercy and mutuality. It’s built by people humble enough to pray, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” and brave enough to extend that same mercy to others. The world doesn’t need more temples filled with Pharisees. It needs more churches filled with recovering witch hunters who’ve laid down their sticks and stones to pick up some empathy and compassion.

The world doesn’t need more purity tests. It needs more people who understand that holiness is found in how we treat the most despised among us.

Because I’ve lived long enough to see the pattern. I know the history. It’s never the ones who love too much who do the evil in this world. It’s always the ones who forget that love is the whole point.

So, let the world accuse us of loving too much. Because that’s how we’ll know we’re getting close to the heart of Jesus. Let them call us names. That’s how we’ll know we’re walking in his way.

When we stand the side of the witches, on the side of the accused, the excluded, the erased, we know we’re on the side of the God who never stops expanding the circle.

So, let them drive by our church and call us “unholy” or “too much.”

Let them demonize us.

But we’re going to keep loving.
We’re going to keep welcoming.

We’re going to keep conjuring the Holy Ghost and following the way of Jesus.

That means we’ll never stop proclaiming the mercy that humbles the proud and lifts up the lowly.

Because we Disciples believe the Kingdom of God is coming near, and the radical welcome and revolutionary love of Jesus is leading the way.

Amen.

Reviving the Heart of a Lady

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

Acts 9:36-43

This morning’s epistle lesson is one of a handful of biblical stories where someone, other than Jesus, dies and is raised back to life.

In 1 Kings 17, we read the story of the prophet Elijah raising to life the dead son of a widow. Luke tells a similar story of Jesus also raising to life the dead son of a widow. Mark tells a story about Jesus raising the dead daughter of a synagogue official (Mark 5). And it is John who tells the infamous story of Lazarus (John 11).

In Acts 20, we read Luke’s fascinating story of Eutychus, the only person in the Bible who can blame his passing on a Sunday sermon that went too long!

Bless his heart, as Eutychus sat in a windowsill listening to Paul preach on and on and on and on, the poor fella nodded off to sleep and toppled out the window, falling three stories to his death!

To Paul’s credit, he stopped preaching and immediately ran downstairs. I suppose feeling somewhat responsible for his congregant’s tragic and untimely demise, Paul knelt down, propped the dead body up in his arms and said to the shocked eyewitnesses who were standing nearby: “He’s ok. He’s fine. Nothing to see here! Go on about your business.” Luke tells us Paul then went back upstairs and had communion, while Eutychus, having had his fill of preaching for the day, and maybe for the rest of his life, skipped the rest of the service and went away alive and well (Acts 20).

Now, who here today can believe that you could literally be bored to death by a sermon?

I know. All of you can.

But who here believes that if I so happened to bore one of you to death with one of my sermons, that I possess the power run down the aisle, prop up your lifeless body in my arms and bring you back to life?

No one believes that.

But we do have the new defibrillator now hanging up right outside the narthex ready to go. So, I guess you never know!

However, believing that one has the power to literally raise the dead back to life is no laughing matter. For example, no one would be laughing if someone’s heart did stop during the service, and I called off the one rushing the defibrillator down the aisle, exclaiming: “There’s no need here for science! Stand back! I got this!”

A few years ago, the nation watched in horror as members of a Pentecostal Church in Redding, California, inspired by the raising-the-dead stories in the Bible, prayed over the body of a 2-year-old little girl for five days, attempting to bring her back to life.

So, how should these stories be interpreted? Are they to be taken literally, or should we look for some deeper meaning, some symbolic meaning that is more true, more real, and more prophetic, than any possible literal understanding.

What are we to make of the story of Tabitha, the only woman referred to as a disciple in the in the New Testament, who died but was raised back to life by Peter?

We are told that she lived a life devoted to good works and acts of charity, but then, one day, she became ill and died. Those who had been caring for her washed her body and laid her in a room upstairs. She must have been an important figure in the life of the early church as the apostle Peter was immediately summoned to come to the home to pay his respects. As soon as Peter arrived, he was taken upstairs to the room where the body of Tabitha was lying in wake.

Among those at the visitation were (and I quote) “all the widows” of Joppa. They stood beside Peter weeping, showing off the items of clothing that Tabitha had made for them.

Think about that. “All the widows.” What an impact Tabitha had made to those who were among the most marginalized and disadvantaged in society, those who had been discounted— victims of injustice by being excluded from inheritance laws. They all stood around the body grieving, as their ally, their advocate, and their champion, was no more.

It’s then that Peter clears the room. He prays, and turns to the body and says, “Tabitha, get up.” Tabitha opens her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sits straight up.

What in the world can this mean?

The most obvious meaning to me is that this world needs more Tabathas. The world needs more Tabithas who are committed to good works, to acts of charity, and to defending and caring for the marginalized and the most vulnerable among us.

Heaven doesn’t need another angel, as people like to say at funeral visitations. We need more angels here on earth, specifically angels like Tabitha.

Earlier this week, I overheard a conversation between a local pastor and another man that went like this:

“I hope to retire at the end of the year,” said the pastor, “but I am worried that it may take a long time to find my successor, as there’s not many men studying for the ministry these days.”

The other man responded: “Well, in the interim, do you have some leaders in your congregation who might step up to help lead the church?”

The pastor replied: “We do have couple of young, godly men in the church who I am currently mentoring.” Then he said, “And I have this woman. She’s incredible, a hard worker, very devout and dependable.”

He then added: “If she were a man, I’d want to have her cloned.”

I should have spoken up.  But instead, I just quietly wondered if this preacher had ever heard the story of the church leader named Tabitha.

And then this wave of sadness came over me, as I was reminded of the role the church currently plays in supporting the subjugation of women in our society and is one of the main reasons I may not live to see a female elected President.

Tell me, when you first heard that “nine-year old baby girls need to be happy with two dolls this Christmas,” did you notice that there was no mention of anything boys would need to sacrifice?

Because sacrificing is for the women—those who should forgo a college education and a career so they can stay home where they belong and raise a family.

Today, we hear those in power mocking and discounting women who do not have biological children. The suggestion has even been made that the votes of women who do not have children should count less than women who have children.

Every day, it seems as if we encounter some form of hyper-masculinity that has historically associated with fascism.

In 1930’s Germany, as incentive to keep women in their place, and to keep immigrants in the minority, Adolf Hitler introduced the “Cross of Honor of the German Mother,” a decorative medal that honored “children-rich” mothers of German heritage, excluding Jewish Germans.

The medals came in three classes: the Bronze Cross for mothers of four or five children; the Silver Cross for mothers with six or seven children; and the Gold Cross for mothers with eight or more children.

Six years after Hitler’s medal program was introduced, Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin followed suit with the “Order of Maternal Glory,” also offering three tiers: “Third Class” for mothers of seven children; “Second Class” for mothers of eight children; and “First Class” for mothers of nine children.

Soviet women raising 10 or more children were given the title “Mother Heroine” up until the fall of the USSR in 1991.

In 2022, the Mother Heroine award was revived, adding a payment of 1 million rubles, which is equivalent to more than $12,000.

And now, the White House is considering implementing similar incentives, including payments of $5,000 in cash and a “National Medal of Motherhood” to moms in the U.S. who have six or more children.[i]

I believe it’s important to point out today that Tabitha is never described as a mother. We are only told that she was a faithful disciple, devoted to good works and acts of charity, especially among those who were marginalized and discounted by society.

Perhaps what this country needs is a “National Medal of Justice Doers!” Because what this country needs are more people like Tabitha. It needs more allies, advocates, and champions for the poor, the discounted, and the marginalized.

But what if Tabitha’s story means even more?

What if Tabitha is a larger symbol for our deepest and best moral value of caring for the least of these? And what if Peter in this story, the one who revives this value, the one considered by Catholics to be the first Pope, is a symbol for the church?

What if Tabitha is a symbol of kindness, compassion, mercy, and empathy? A symbol of diversity, equity, and inclusion? A symbol of welcome and belonging? A symbol liberty and justice for all, especially for those discounted and marginalized.

What if Tabitha is a large feminine symbol holding up a light for all those who are left out and left behind: the tired; the poor; the huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse, those considered despicable, regarded as garbage; the homeless; the tempest tossed?

Then, like the Tabitha in Luke’s story, we know today that she has fallen ill, gravely ill. You might say she has a heart problem, is heart sick, or suffering a heart attack.

Her heart has been broken by those who believe character no longer counts.

Her heart has been hardened by sexism, racism, fear, and greed.

Her heart has been jolted out of rhythm by chaos and confusion.

Her arteries have been clogged by the evil forces, the principalities, the powers, and the world rulers of this present darkness.

Hate has put her heart in cardiac arrest.

So, what do we do when the heart of liberty-and-justice-for-all stops beating?

Well, that’s when we summon Peter, we summon the church, we summon all disciples who are committed to the way of love Jesus taught. That’s when we summon all people who have good hearts, to be, in the words of Rev Dr. William Barber, “the moral defibrillators of our time” to shock what is the very heart of our nation! To shock what is the heart of this nation, liberty and justice for all, with the power of love and mercy, especially for the poor, the marginalized and the most vulnerable.[ii]

So, the question that Tabitha’s story beg of us today is this: Do you have a heart? Is there a heart in this congregation?

Do you have a heart for poor people? Do you have a heart for transgendered people? Do you have a heart for immigrants?

Do you have a heart for women? Do you have a heart for mothers who have been deported by ICE and separated from their families? Do you have a heart for the value, the worth, and the dignity of all women, regardless of whether they choose to have children?

Then you have been summoned today. You have been called to be “the moral defibrillators of our time” to shock our city with love, to revive the pulse of our state with mercy, and to raise back to life the very heart of our nation.

[i] https://people.com/trump-team-ponders-incentives-motherhood-birthrate-11719580

[ii] Address to the DNC by Rev. Dr. William Barber, 2016

Time to Be Prodigally Prophetic

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

 

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

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

 “And you claim to be a man of God!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, we know the rest of the story…

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

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

I think mama was just jealous.

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

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

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

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

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

Then, it occurs to us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

You Are God’s Beloved

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

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 NRSV

I often wonder where it all went wrong. How did it get so bad? Of course, I am talking about Christianity. Why did it become so mean, so hateful, and so ugly? If following the way of love that Jesus taught, modeled, and embodied, is the road we should be traveling, many Christians not only seem to be off track, but they seem to be going in the exact opposite direction.

It’s like, instead of going home by another way, the wise men went back to King Herod and collaborated with the empire, and for the sake of wealth, power, cheap eggs and gas, told the King exactly where he could find the boy Jesus and exterminate him.

Because it’s like many have never heard any of the stories of Jesus. How he with his parents fled violence as refugees in Egypt. How he grew up to lead a revolutionary movement of non-violence resisting the powers that be. How he called out their corruption, their greed, and their lust for power. How he was a radical advocate and ally for anyone who was marginalized by the culture or by sick religion. How he challenged systems of injustice that hurt women, alienated foreigners, demeaned Eunuchs, and were blind to the needs of the poor.

         It’s like some Christians today have not just misinterpreted the gospel but have rewritten it for their own self-interest.

         I often wonder if part of the problem is the way it was all introduced and explained to me in the first place. For years, every Sunday, I heard the same message. I was born into this world a lowly sinner and because of that sin, I was separated by God and would be punished by God for all of eternity, unless I did something about it, namely accepting Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior, and then getting baptized to wash all my sins away.

         I would go home from church almost every Sunday feeling absolutely rotten, worthless, dirty, unloved. Well, one day after church, when I was ten years old, I had had enough. I was tired of all the guilt, so I told my parents that I wanted to be baptized. I wanted to get clean. I wanted God to love me.

They told me that I needed to pick up the telephone and call the preacher and tell him that I wanted to be baptized, which I did. On the phone, he said he would come over to my house later in the week to talk to me about it.

I remember sitting outside on the patio with him when he said something like: “Jarrett, were all born into this world separated by God because of sin. But God loves us very much.”

I must have had a confused look on my face, or he must have thought I was a tad on the slow side, because that was when he got out a spiral notebook, opened it up, and began drawing me a picture.

He drew what first looked like the logo for McDonalds, but then he said, “It’s like there’s these two mountains.” He wrote my name on one mountain and the word “God” on the other mountain. He called the space in between the mountains “a valley,” and there wrote the word “sin.”  He said, God is here on this mountain, but you are way over here on this other mountain, and sin is the valley that separates you.

Then he drew a bridge connecting the mountains and writing the word “Jesus” under the bridge, he said: “But God loves you and sent Jesus, who never sinned, to die on the cross, to be a bridge so you can cross over the valley to be on the side with God.”

He then asked me: “Jarrett, don’t you want to be on the mountain with God?”

I thought to myself: “Or stay on this other mountain and one day go to hell forever? Nah, I think I’ll take that bridge, thank you very much.”

He said: “Jarrett, when you are baptized, it is a way of saying that you believe Jesus died for you on the cross and rose again, and it is like you are crossing the bridge, to be with God. When you are baptized your sins are washed away. Your sins are forgiven, so they no longer separate you from God.”

“Well, how fast can I get baptized?” was my reply.

But later, I had questions. I had lots of questions. The main one was: “If God loves us so much why did God put us on the wrong mountain in the first place? Why did God create us as sinners? And: “If God really loves us, why would God threaten to punish us for all of eternity if we do not choose to be with God and get baptized?”

But whenever I would raise such questions, I would get this convoluted response about free will, that God only wants people who choose to love God to be with God.”

And if I replied: “Well, that sure doesn’t sound like a very good and loving God to me, as that sounds like God only loves people who love God back.”

It was then I got: “Jarrett, it is not for us to question it, but to just believe it.”

But all of this would lead to even more questions, like: “If Jesus was perfect and never sinned, and if baptism is about having your sins forgiven and washed away, why did Jesus get baptized? Surely Jesus wasn’t separated from God? Right?”

“Of course not,” I thought “Because he wasn’t a sinner. And sin is what separates us from God. And there was this vision at Jesus’ baptism of heaven being opened wide, the Holy Spirit descending in the form of a dove, and this voice from heaven saying the most beautiful words, words that are the antithesis of: “You are a sinner, separated or cut off from God”— “You are my Child, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

So, why was Jesus baptized?

The answer that I most heard, even in seminary, was that by getting baptized in the manner we are encouraged to be baptized, Jesus was “identifying” with us. Jesus was becoming like us.

I was taught that this was the scandalous good news of the incarnation. That God identified with us poor sinners. That God, the source and essence of all that is, became flesh, became one of us.

That may be sound theology, but what if it is actually the other way around? What if got it completely backwards, or at least, there is much more to it?

Early church theologian Athanasius, put it this way: Jesus became one of us, so that we might become like him.

Instead of Jesus being baptized like us, maybe it’s more like we are baptized like Jesus.

For isn’t that the goal of every disciple, to be like Jesus?

Maybe we have misunderstood the nature of baptism, because we have misunderstood the whole notion of this thing we call forgiveness.

For how many of us were taught that we are sinners, separated from God, and need to be forgiven, to have those sins washed away in order to be named as one of God’s beloved children? Instead of being taught the exact opposite: that because we already are God’s beloved children, God forgives us? How many of us were taught that forgiveness is a condition to receive God’s love, instead of being taught that forgiveness is the result of God’s love?

We need forgiveness, only the most depraved believe they don’t need, and Baptism is indeed about forgiveness, but baptism is primarily about love. Baptism is about affirmation. Baptism is about a holy covenant, an intimate relationship. It is about our sacred identity as children of God. And forgiveness is a by-product of that identity.

When Jesus is baptized, Jesus hears God say these incredibly important words of love, affirmation, and identity: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the good news is that when we are baptized or when we remember our Baptisms or our confirmations, we are to hear the same thing: “You are my child, my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.”

Like Jesus’ baptism, when we are baptized, whether we were infants, children, or adults, God promises God’s unconditional love for us. God calls us, names us, and claims us as God’s beloved children.[i]

Think of how different this world would be today if more people understood this. That everyone, regardless of their religion, or lack of religion, believed that every human being is a beloved child of God.

I can’t help but to believe that it would turn the world upside down, and Christianity back right-side up.

There would be more less meanness and more kindness, less inequality and more justice, less blame and more responsibility, less judgment and more grace, less indifference and more empathy, less violence and more peace, and less fear and more love.

So, this morning, I am not sure who needs to hear it. Perhaps we all need to hear it. Even if we have heard it before or have always believed it, we need to hear it again and again and again.

So, let’s listen carefully to the word of God. For the heavens are wide open. There is no separation between heaven and the earth. The Holy Spirit is descending, and God is speaking—in the quietness of an evening snowfall in the laughter of children playing in the snow—in the solitude of a morning walk, or in a raucous crowd watching a basketball game—lying in bed on a cold Sunday morning, on sitting on a pew in a sanctuary—listen, there is no separation between God and the earth.

You were not born on the wrong mountain because there is only one holy mountain.

There is no separation between God and “you.” There has never been, and there never will anything on heaven or on earth that separates you. Did you hear that? “You.” “You” is such a powerful world, especially in the second-person singular. When someone says, “you,” they see you. They have identified you. And this “You” is coming from God. Do you hear it? Listen carefully. Block out everything else. Listen to the creator and essence of the universe:

“You are my beloved child. And with you, I am well pleased.[ii]

[i] Inspired and adapted from David Lose https://www.davidlose.net/2019/01/the-baptism-of-our-lord-c-forgiveness-and-so-much-more/

[ii] Inspired and adapted from Karoline Lewis https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/the-power-of-you

For Unto Us, A Child Is Born

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Sermons Year C4 Comments

Luke 1:39-45 NRSV

It’s the Fourth Sunday of Advent, and all our waiting and expectation is almost over. We have gathered here this morning and will gather here again Tuesday evening if we are able to receive once again the long-expected baby Jesus. Even in this dark time, we are like Mary’s cousin Elizabeth, as something inside of us is leaping for joy!

Our anticipation stands in sharp contrast to that first Christmas, when this baby was not received by everyone. In response to the good news of Christmas, Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” But not everyone thought of Christmas as good news.

The shepherds were filled with fear. King Herod, despite all his soldiers guarding him at the Palace, was sore afraid, driven to commit unspeakable acts, as he saw this baby’s birth as a threat to the empire. Even Joseph, the man engaged to Mary, didn’t readily receive the baby. In the beginning he spent many a sleepless night questioning: “Who’s really the father of this baby?”

In our sentimentalization of Christmas, we tend to forget that Jesus was conceived by a woman who was not married. The church and society have a history of giving ugly names to such babies. Thankfully, I don’t here many children called the “b-word” anymore. It is such a sad and offensive name to describe a child, so ugly that I find it inappropriate to say aloud from this pulpit, especially on this last Sunday before Christmas.

I do, however, sometimes hear the word illegitimate, to describe such children.  And that too, illegitimate, is a sad, ugly term for anybody, much less the very Son of God. Today, we also use other sad and ugly terms for children: “illegal,” “alien,” “vermin” and “abomination.”

In contrast to that very first Christmas where very few received this baby, in a few days, we will gather with the Church around the world to welcome and embrace the baby. With triumphant voices we will sing, “Come let us adore the baby!”

And there’s a counter miracle occurring here. We embrace the baby, but this baby is also embracing us. In the birth of Jesus, God came close to us, because we didn’t believe we were worthy enough to come close to God. So, before we congratulate ourselves on our willing and eager reception of this baby, let us wonder at this baby’s reception of us.

Not knowing we could reach up to God, without getting killed, in love and with love, God reaches down to us. God takes on our humanity so that we might know that we are a part of God’s divinity. God came as a child to show us that we are all beloved children of God. With every child born, we are born into this world in the image of God. We all have divine value, a sacred worth, a holy purpose. We were born in love, of love, for love, to love.

As someone who has been in the church for nearly sixty years now, and a minister for almost 40 of those years, people often tell me that I should write a book—A wonderful book of church stories filled with stories about you.

A Presbyterian minister from Northhaven, Minnesota did just that. In his book entitled, The Good News from Northhaven, Michael Lindval writes about his Presbyterian congregation.

It was his first Thanksgiving as pastor of the church. On the Sunday after Thanksgiving they were having an infant baptism. Much like the baptism of Phyllis Rose we had on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the congregation was full of friends and relatives of the couple whose child was being baptized. Dr. Angus McDonald II, and his lovely wife, proudly presented their new son, Angus III, otherwise known as Skip, to be baptized. And the entire church could not have been more happy.

When it was time for the baptism, Rev. Lindval turned to the congregation and asked what is traditionally asked in some churches that baptize infants. He addressed the congregation and asked: “Who comes to stand with this child?”

Immediately, the grandparents, aunts and uncles and an assortment of relatives and friends, stood up and joined the parents at the front as they held the baby, presenting the baby for baptism.

When the service was over, after the congregation shook the minister’s hand upon exiting the church, Rev. Lindval, walked back through the sanctuary and noticed that one person had remained. He recognized her as someone who always sat on the back pew, closest to the back door.  She was a social worker, he remembered.

He greeted her, telling her he was glad to see her in worship, but she seemed to be at a loss for words.

After an awkward silence, she commented on how lovely the baptism was, and then, fumbling for words, said to the pastor, “One of my clients, her name is Tina. She has had a baby, and well, Tina would like to have the baby baptized.”

The pastor suggested that Tina should make an appointment to come to see him, along with her husband, and then they would discuss the possibility of baptism.

The woman looked up at the pastor and said, “Tina doesn’t have a husband.  She is not a member of this church but attended the youth group some when she was in Junior High. But then she got involved with this older boy. And now she has this baby. She’s only 17.”

The pastor awkwardly mumbled that he would bring the request before the next meeting of the Session, their church’s board meeting.

When the pastor presented the request before the Session, as you might imagine, there was some questions.  “Who’s the father?” “Where’s the father?”  The pastor said that he didn’t know. “Does Tina have any other family?” “I don’t know,” the pastor said. Heads turned.

“How could they be sure that Tina would be faithful to the promises that she was making in the baptism?” was a concern brought by more than one.

The pastor only responded by shrugging his shoulders, but thought to himself, “How could they really be sure about anybody’s promise?”

With much reservation, the Session reluctantly approved the baptism of Tina’s baby for the Fourth Sunday of Advent.

When the Fourth Sunday of Advent came, the sanctuary was full as children were home from college and many of the members had invited guests. They went through the service singing the usual Advent hymns, lighting the advent candle, and so forth. Then, it came time for the baptism.

The pastor announced, “And now, would those to be presented for baptism come forward.”  An elder of the church stood up and read off the three-by-five note card, indicating that he did not remember the woman or the child’s name, “Tina Corey presents her son, James, for baptism.”  The elder sat back down with an obvious look of discomfort on his face.

Tina got up from where she was seated and came down to the front, holding two-month-old James in her arms. A blue pacifier was stuck in his mouth. The scene was just as awkward as the pastor and the elders knew it would be.

Tina seemed so young, so poor, and so alone.

But as she stood there… holding that baby… with poinsettias and a Chrismon tree shining brightly in the foreground, they could not help but to think of another poor mother with a baby, young, alone, long ago, in somewhat similar circumstances. Yes, in another place and time, Tina and Mary seemed like sisters.

And then the pastor came to that appointed part of the service when he asked, “And who stands with this child?”  He looked out at the mother of Tina, who came that day, dressed in a very meager way, and nodded toward her. She, almost hesitantly stood and moved toward her daughter and her grandson.

The pastor’s eyes went back to his service book to proceed with the questions to be asked of the parents when he became aware of movement within the congregation.

A couple of elders of the church stood up. And many, on the same row as those elders, stood up beside them. Then the Junior High Sunday School teacher stood up. Then a new young couple in the church stood up. And then, before the pastor’s astonished eyes, the whole church was standing, and moved forward, clustering around the baby.

Tina began cry. Lindvall writes that Tina’s mother gripped the altar rail as if she were clutching the railing of a tossing ship, “which in a way she was”—a ship in a great wind. Moving forward this day so much closer to the ultimate destination of us all. And little James, as the water, touched his forehead, grew peaceful and content, as if he could feel the warm embrace of the entire congregation. Every person in the room was standing if this was their child, as if they were all family.

The scripture reading was from 1 John 3:1, “See what love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.”

On Tuesday night, we will gather here to celebrate the birth of a baby born into our family. But it is by this baby that we have been made family.

Maybe you came to this service this morning and plan to come Tuesday night all by yourself. Maybe you do not have much family, maybe you lost the family you had, or perhaps your family is far away.

But on this Fourth Sunday of Advent, here, right now, do you hear that rustling in the pews around you?

It’s the sound of your family. It’s the whole human family, taking shape around the manger.

Christmas means the Word has become flesh and is dwelling among us.

And what is that word?

“See what love the Father has given to us so we should be called children of God. And so we are” (1 John 3:1).

For unto us a child is born, so we will understand that we are all born in love, connected by love, bound together with love.

For unto us a child is born, so no child born should ever be called “illegitimate,” “illegal,” “alien,” “vermin” or an “abomination.”

For unto us a child is born, so we will stand up to stand with all God’s children.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will be welcomed, loved, and affirmed; every child will know their divine value, their sacred worth, and holy purpose.

For unto us a child is born, so all children will receive the hospitality of a cold cup of water, a hot meal, and warm shelter.

For unto us a child is born, so every child can be safe from gun violence, at home and at school, can live lives of peace, free of violence of any kind.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will have access to equitable education, a fair living wage, affordable healthcare, equal protection under the law—everything they need for a future full of promise, potential and peace.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will know freedom, justice, hope, and love.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will experience life: abundant and eternal.

For unto us a child is born, so blessed is the fruit of every womb.

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.

Let’s Get Physical

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

Mark 5:21-43 NRSV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Answering the Call to Love – Honoring the Rev. Ken Burger

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

1 Samuel 3:1-10 NRSV

Oh, how the Church needs more days like today! Days when we turn our attention to the peculiar way that the Kingdom of God comes to this world—to be reminded how Jesus began his ministry on this earth ushering in the reign of God creating a new world where the poor are blessed, those who hunger and thirst for justice are filled, the lowly are lifted up, and the mighty are cast down from their thrones.

As the Lord and Savior of the world, the Son of the Most High, the Alpha and the Omega, the eternal Word who became flesh, the One through all things came into being, did Jesus do it all by himself?

I suppose an argument could be made that he certainly could have. But instead, Jesus gets the kingdom started by going out, finding, and calling people like me and you, people who were just minding their business one day, mending their nets or sitting in a tax booth, or on a camping trip with friends (I’ll talk more about that a little later), calling people who had very little idea of who Jesus was and where Jesus was taking them. Yet, this is how God works in our world. It is the way God has always worked. God works in the world by calling others to do the work.

In Genesis, we read that God creates the world: the mountains and the seas; the valleys and streams; every animal, every living thing in the water, in the air and on the land; the sun, moon, stars and all that lies beyond. Then, God creates human beings, gives them a garden that has enough to feed the world, and calls them, all of them, male and female, to look after it, protect it, tend to it, and share it.

It is as if God says: “You know, I have really enjoyed creating all the beauty and order in this world. Of course, I could take care of it all myself. I could work to make sure all are able not to just survive but to thrive from the bounty of this creation, but I want to see you do it.”

Likewise, Jesus comes into the world making all things new, creating, recreating, reordering, ushering in the Kingdom of God. He touches and heals, welcomes, includes, advocates, and forgives. He turns water into a whole lot of wine and a small basket of food into a great feast that feeds everyone with leftovers, all as a sign of that Kingdom of God is here and there is grace enough and mercy enough and nourishment enough for all. He redeems and restores the lives of the lost, the poor and the marginalized. He chastises judgmental religion, challenges systems of oppression, and exorcises demonic forces that exclude, devalue, and dehumanize.

And then it is as if he says: “You know, I’ve enjoyed doing the holy work of God, demonstrating the reality of God’s reign in this world, but now, it’s your turn. I am calling you to do my work in the world.”

Just as God called people like Abraham and Sarah, Moses and Miriam, Ruth and Jeremiah, Samuel and Deborah, Mary Magdalene and John the Baptizer, Paul and Pricilla, God called a young man living in Huntsville, Alabama who liked to blaze trails as a Boy Scout and as a member of the youth group of First Christian Church. On a camping trip with his friends, it was his friends who first told Ken Burger he should go into the ministry. Like Samuel who soon learned it was not Eli calling, but it was actually God calling him, Ken learned that it wasn’t just his friends calling that day, as he later announced to a surprised family that he was called by God to vocational ministry.

After graduating from the University of Alabama, Ken attended the Lexington Theological Seminary and was ordained into the ministry, 50 years ago this August.

After seminary, Ken says he was surprised when he was called to serve as a pastor of a church in Girard, Illinois. But that is how the call of God usually comes– as a surprise. We are awakened from sleep in the middle of the night like Samuel, or we’re busy at work like the Twelve, or we’re camping in the woods, sitting on the porch, or driving in our car, and out of nowhere, the call come. It’s inexplicable, yet real; incredulous, yet convincing. And no matter how hard we might try, there is no shaking it, and certainly no ignoring it.

After serving that church for 3 years, Ken accepted a call to serve as Associate Minister, 40 miles away in Jacksonville. Then 2 years later he resigned and returned to Girard to start a new ministry, one that lasted 8 years.

Ken says that he remained on the “mission field” of the Midwest for 12 years before moving to Virginia in 1986 where he accepted a call to serve with Bedford Christian Church, a ministry which lasted 8 ½ years.

During those years, he, Marilyn Taylor, and David Herrick sensed a call minister to Senior Adults. One day, they met on the campus of Lynchburg College to explore possibilities together. This is when Ken learned that when God calls, God often calls us to do some pretty big things.

I think we sometimes overlook Jesus’ call of the disciples. For what did he call them to do? Sit on a pew every Sunday? Sing, pray, listen to a sermon, try to be a good person? Maybe attend a ministry team meeting every now and again or join a book study?

No, they were called to do what Jesus did. Nothing too big mind you. Just your ordinary raising of the dead. Just your routine healing of a disease. Just your typical demon exorcism sort-of-thing. They were called by Jesus to do big things that change the world.

Ken understood this, that God calls us to dream and to dream big. And bringing big dreams to life takes time and a lot of patience, for that one meeting at the University of Lynchburg led to a task force that met for 7 years.

Then, in 1995, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Virginia called Ken to serve on the Regional staff as Project Director for the new ministry.  Ken says: “Our own Herb Moore and my second-best friend Johnny Loughridge, were a big part of that call, but that’s a story for another time.”

In November 1996, Ken married his first-best friend, Linda. Her children April and Adam became what  Ken calls his “bonus” daughter and son, along with 3 grandchildren and a great-grandchild. Ken is also a proud Dad to two daughters, Melinda and Stephanie, with whom he enjoys regular Father-Daughter retreats. I believe Ken would say that his role as husband, father and grandfather is his highest calling.

His first Sunday in his new position was when he and Linda were called to joined the First Christian Church of Lynchburg. That was the day he told David Edwards, the senior minister at the time: “I’ve watched this congregation for over 8 years. I want to be part of this.”

Ken’s visionary work with the region led to establishing a joint venture project with Centra and the development of The Summit, where Ken served as Executive Director for 13 years, retiring 8 years ago.

But here’s the thing. Ken never retired from ministry, because Ken understands that the call of God upon people is never silenced. As member of this congregation, Ken continues to say “yes” to the call of God as he faithfully uses his gifts to serve this church, his family and community.

Ken writes: “I love what we are doing here at FCC, for which I am both humbled and proud to be a part.”

Ken Burger, we are grateful that God has called you here. And that you answered that call. And we trust, that wherever you are, even if it is not with us here, that you are there because you are still answering a divine call to love.

Last week, I quoted CS Lewis who described God: “not as a static thing, not even as a person, but as a dynamic, pulsating activity, a life, almost a kind of drama.”

Perhaps one way to describe God is as “a call.”  God is a prodding, pulling, provoking, universal force—a beckoning, compelling energy that transcends denominations, religions, and any human construct that tries to define or limit it– calling people to love.

God is a continual call to love in small and big ways that change the world!

The Call to Love is a call to affirm that every person is created in Love’s image to care for, tend to, and share in the diversity and extravagant bounty of creation.

Thus, the Call to Love is a call to favor democracy over dictatorship, a generosity over greed, truth over talking points, and love over fear.

The Call to Love bends the moral arc of the universe towards justice and brings wholeness and peace to a fragmented world.

The Call to Love leads churches to be Open and Affirming of all people, regarding and embracing the wondrous diversity of the human family as a portrait of divinity.

Ken says he “loves being a part of what we are doing here.” I believe Ken is saying that he loves the way he is witnessing people here answering The Call to Love.

Several of you answer The Call to Love every day in your jobs and through volunteerism in your community.

Many of you are answering The Call to Love as you care for members of your family who need you.

Ann Boynton is answering the call to vocational ministry. Several of you are answering the call to serve as elders, deacons, officers and on various ministry teams.

The One Home – One Future Team is answering the call to transform our grounds to model ecological justice.

The Outreach Team is answering a call to serve children, feed the hungry, fight for democracy, and provide equitable access to housing.

The Education Team led by Maria is answering the call to teach and train our children how to answer The Call to Love.

These are serious times. We are living in dangerous days. But the good news is that Love is calling. Love is calling people like you and me and Love is still calling Ken Burger, for the Call to Love can never be silenced. Love is calling us every day to do what we can to make this world more just, equitable and peaceful.

How is Love calling you today?

There is perhaps no more important question. For it is simply the way our God works in this world. Amen.