Tag: Pandemic

A Pentecostal Outpouring

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

Acts 2 NRSV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Religion Is Making the Pandemic Worse

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short Articles3 Comments

This pandemic is terrifying, and religion is making it worse.

Science is being denied in the name of religion as pastors, politicians and parishioners are ignorantly insisting that people should still gather for worship putting all of us at risk. But what I believe is even worse than that is the insidious theology that is being expressed by people of faith everywhere.

“God is in control” they post. “God doesn’t make mistakes” they say. “God is trying to teach us something” they sermonize.

Really? God, the creator and source of love, Love Itself, wants the most vulnerable among us to die alone, sick, afraid and unable to breathe?

I believe religion is making this pandemic even more terrifying, because there are too many people in this world who are following the wrong god.

Too many Christians have created their own version of God, their own Lord, their own King, who sits up on some heavenly throne pushing buttons, pulling levers, controlling, dominating, dictating.

A tornado strikes. They say, “God is trying to get our attention.”

Cancer happens. They say, “God has God’s reasons.”

A loved one dies. They say, “God needed another angel.”

A pandemic rages. They say “God must be angry.”

“God is in control. God does not make mistakes. God knows what God is doing.” They think they are making things better by saying these things, but they are only making things worse.

This is why I believe this week that we call “Holy Week” which begins this weekend is so important. The events we remember this week remind us what kind of God, what kind of King, we serve. Holy Week reminds us, contrary to what some of our Christian friends say, God does not rule like the rulers of this world. God does not reign from some heavenly throne in some blissful castle in the sky, but God rules from an old rugged cross, right here on earth, between broken people like you and me.

The rulers of this world rule from places of self-interest and self-preservation. They rule from places of greed and pride.

However, this Holy week teaches us that Christ is a King who rules from a polar-opposite place—a place of self-expending, self-dying, sacrificial, suffering love.

Christ the King does not rule with an iron fist; Christ the King serves with outstretched arms. Christ the King does not cause human suffering from some far away heavenly realm; Christ the King is right here in our realm sharing in our suffering.

Theologian Arthur McGill put it this way:

God’s power is not a power that takes, but is a power that gives.

God’s power is not a power that rules, but is a power that serves.

God’s power is not a power that imposes, but is a power that loves.

God’s power is not a power that dominates, but a power that dies.

This is why it is no accident that Jesus undertakes his mission to the poor and to the weak and not to the rich and the strong; to the dying and not to those full of life. This is why Jesus was so concerned about those marginalized and demonized by organized religion and the power-that-be. McGill continues:

For with these vessels of need God most decisively vindicates the divine power: a power of service whereby the poor are fed, the sinful are forgiven, the weak are strengthened, and the dying are made alive.

God did not cause this pandemic. The day the first person was infected was a day of anguish for God.

God did not create the layoff. The day you were told that your job was ending, God stayed up with you and worried with you all night long.

And God did not take our loved one. When they died, something inside of God died too. For self-givers are never takers.

A more accurate and theologically sound way of describing what happened to our loved ones when they breathed their last breath is that God came, and God, wholly, completely and eternally, gave all of God’ self to them.

So when this pandemic gets us down, we need to remember the great truth of Holy Week—Christ is King. And this King is reigning, suffering, sacrificing and giving all that God has to give from the cross. God’s throne is not made of silver and gold. God’s throne is made of wood and nails. God wears not a crown of jewels, but God wears a crown of thorns.

And when more people begin to understand this, that God did not bleed for only a few hours during one Holy Week, but continues, even today, to bleed for us, to pour God’s self out for us, perhaps religion will cease making this pandemic worse.

It will be what gets us through it. And then, together with our Easter God, we will make something very good come out of it all.

Are Religious Services Essential to the Christian Faith?

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

Of the 39 states that have implemented stay-at-home orders, 12 make exceptions for religious gatherings as “essential activities,” because practicing one’s faith is protected under the first amendment of the Constitution.

I believe this raises an important question: “What is essential to practicing the Christian faith?”

Jesus seems to have stated what he believed was essential when he said:

“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, if you have love for one another’” (John 13:34-35).

The Apostle Paul agreed that love is the most essential activity as he wrote: “All of the commandments are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

And just in case some people did not understand what love means, he added: “Love does no wrong to a neighbor” (Romans 13:8-10).

So, it should be obvious during this pandemic that if attending a worship service can make our neighbors sick, and possibly kill them, then attending a service at this time should be something we need to avoid. In fact, according to Jesus and Paul, it is essential to our faith that we do not gather during this time.

I am praying that we will continue to reevaluate what is essential to practice our faith long after this world crisis is over.

Because I do not believe Jesus ever said: “If you want everyone to know you are my disciples, it is essential to build a building and gather inside of that building at least once a week and worship me.” And as far as I know, Jesus never said, “To practice one’s faith, it is essential to sit in a Sunday School classroom and study me.”

However, Jesus did say: “No one can be my disciple unless they carry a cross and follow me” (Luke 14:27).

In other words, Jesus said that to be his disciples, to practice the Christian faith, it is essential that we sacrificially do the things he did to love his neighbors as himself: be willing to sacrifice it all; embrace humility; fight for the vulnerable; empower the underprivileged; feed the hungry; shelter the homeless; heal the sick; free the oppressed; welcome the outsider; forgiver the sinner; defend the marginalized; speak truth to power.

Selfless service to our neighbors is what is essential to practicing the Christian faith. Attending a service with our neighbors is certainly not now, nor has it ever been, essential.

Hope in the Midst of a Pandemic

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Non-Lectionary2 Comments

APTOPIX Taiwan China Outbreak

For thousands of years, when people in the world found themselves in a crisis, they have turned to the Psalms for words of hope and peace.

About one-third of the Psalms are called “Lament Psalms.” These Psalms are unashamedly real, blatantly honest. They speak to the reality of the pain of our world: the plight of the poor; the despair of the displaced; the evil of war; the scourge of disease, and the horrors natural disasters.

Psalm 6 is perhaps my favorite “Lament Psalm.” For here the Psalmist honestly pours out his heart before God like none other:

2 Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;

O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror.

3 My soul also is struck with terror,

while you, O Lord—how long?

4 Turn, O Lord, save my life;

deliver me for the sake of your steadfast love.

5 For in death there is no remembrance of you;

in Sheol who can give you praise?

6 I am weary with my moaning;

every night I flood my bed with tears;

I drench my couch with my weeping.

7 My eyes waste away because of grief;

they grow weak because of all my foes.

We do not know why the Psalmist is languishing so, why their bones are shaking and their soul is struck with terror. We do not know exactly what is causing them to grieve. What was lost. What made them so weary, so afraid of dying. Why their bed is flooded, their couch drenched with tears. We do not know what great change happened in the world of the Psalmist that caused them to experience so much fear and uncertainty, lamenting, how long, O Lord, how long?

But living in 2020, we can certainly relate.

Notice that the Psalmist is not afraid to reveal their grief. There is no holding back. There’s no masking the pain, no pretending to be strong because others might think they are weak. Things are about as bad as they can be. Their eyes are wasting away with grief. And they are brutally honest about it.

I believe this is a great reminder for us that is okay to grieve what we have lost. It is okay to grieve the uncertainty. And its is good to grieve openly and honestly.

However, as the Apostle Paul once said, we grieve, but we do not grieve without hope. And here, it is the honest, grieving Psalmist who also reminds us that even when our eyes are wasting away from grief, our souls are struck with terror, there is hope.

Notice the change in tone beginning with verse 8:

8 Depart from me, all you workers of evil,

for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.

9 The Lord has heard my supplication;

the Lord accepts my prayer.

10 All my enemies shall be ashamed and struck with terror;

they shall turn back, and in a moment be put to shame.

Somewhere between seven and eight, something happened in the life of the Psalmist. New life is experienced. Blessed assurance, amazing grace, and a peace beyond all understanding are received.

Just like we do not know what exactly happened in the Psalmist’s world that caused them to express their grief so openly in verses one through seven, we do not know what exactly happened between verses seven and eight that turned their life around. We just know that something happened, and that something was miraculous. Somehow, someway, new life, inexplicable, yet certain, came. Somewhere between verses seven and eight, Divine Love and hope showed up. The Psalmist does not say exactly how God showed up, but we can certainly take some good guesses.

Perhaps people from all over the Psalmist’s world came together, realizing that despite their differences, they were all connected, they were intrinsically dependent on one another. Perhaps they came together to truly love their neighbors as themselves, to do unto others as they would have others do unto them. They came together and sacrificed much, valuing people more than anything else.

Yes, the workers of evil were still working. Some people, I am certain, behaved selfishly, hording essential supplies. Some behaved fearfully purchasing more weapons. Some, I am sure, even in the name of God, struggled to put the well-being of the most vulnerable ahead of their self-interests and greed.

However, most of the people were workers of good and not evil. They shared necessities They chose people over politics. They chose their neighbors over money, as they chose the way of love over the way of fear.

And when they chose the way of love, when they began to look after one another, perhaps Liberals and Conservatives put aside their differences. Households of faith finally began to realize that their buildings were not that important because what the world needed was people to worship out in the the community with their service more than it needed people worshipping behind four walls in services.

So, maybe we do know what happened between verses seven and eight after all. The Holy One showed up. In different ways through different people, God came. Selfless, sacrificial, united love came.

This is how we can grieve honestly, yet grieve hopefully in this uncertain and frightening time.

I have heard many people say that when this pandemic is over, we will never be the same again.

Let’s pray that this is true.

O God,

Despite our differences, may we never forget that we are all connected and dependent on each other regardless of race, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, nationality, politics and religion.

As our healthcare professionals risk their lives to heal all who are brought to them; as our teachers find creative ways to love and teach their students; as police, firefighters and first responders continue to faithfully serve and protect; as people everywhere pick up and deliver medications and groceries to their neighbors; as we have witnessed that it is selflessness and not greed, that it is love and not fear, that will us through this crisis–may we continue to love our neighbors in such a way that the entire world will not only be healed of this virus, but it will be more kind, more just, more forgiving, and more unified.

We pray that the most vulnerable among us will be protected more. Science will be respected more. Truth will be upheld more. All people will be valued more. Gratitude and graciousness will be expressed more. Mercy will be shared more.

And when we face another crisis, when we face any adversity, may we always remember that it is okay to be afraid. It is okay to grieve, confident that being afraid and grieving does not mean we are weak. Because, with you help, we will be as strong as we have ever been, never allowing, even for one minute, our fear to shut out love, and our grief to diminish hope. Amen.