Tag: unconditional 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.

Dignity Is Not Conditional: Why Exempting Hotels and Farms from Immigration Raids Reveals a Deeper Moral Crisis

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

ICE will now raid homes but not hotels. They’ll round up families from neighborhoods but not from farms. Why? Because when it comes to immigration, it’s never been about “law and order.” It’s always been about profit and power. Let’s not be fooled: when farms and hotels are exempted from immigration raids, it’s not mercy. It’s exploitation. It’s greed wearing the mask of compassion. It says, you can stay, but only if you pick our fruit, clean our toilets, and stay silent.

However, a human being’s worth is not measured by how fast they can move in the field or how neatly they can make a bed. People are not machines. They are not tools. They are not “the help.” They are children of God, fearfully and wonderfully made, not for our convenience, but for beloved community.

Changing the immigration policy to raid homes but not hotels exposes the hypocrisy at the heart of immigration enforcement in America. It protects the industries that benefit from cheap, undocumented labor while punishing the workers themselves. That’s not justice. That’s not democracy. That’s Pharaoh.

The same Bible many evangelicals use to justify this cruelty also says: “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt” (Exodus 22:21, Exodus 23:9, Leviticus 19:33-34). And let’s not forget Jesus himself was born into a family that fled persecution, crossed borders without papers, and found no room at the inn.

We don’t need immigration policies that ask: “How much can you produce?” We need policies that ask: “How much can we protect?” “How much can we love?” “How much justice can we make real together?”

When we only protect immigrants when they’re useful to us, we are saying that dignity is conditional, that love is earned, and that God’s image in someone can be erased by a lack of paperwork. That is not moral. That is not just. And it is the anithesis of the gospel.

We must fight for policies rooted in human rights, not human labor. We must love people not because of what they can do, but because of who they are. And we must remember that no one is illegal. No one is disposable. No one is worth more because they work harder. In God’s economy, every person matters. Every life counts. Every stranger is a neighbor. Every neighbor is kin.

The Jesus Fish

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

Hell coming

Luke 24:36-48 NRSV

Our scripture lesson this morning has always intrigued me, especially the picture of the resurrected Christ asking for and eating piece of broiled fish.

When I was growing up, my Baptist church had a week of revival every August. We had services Sunday Night through Friday night, and concluded the revival with a fish fry on Saturday.

Six long nights: 30 minutes of singing; one hour of preaching; and then thirty more minutes of altar call. It was hot. It was humid. It was more scary.

The guest preachers would always preach that heaven or hell is coming, and it’s coming sooner than later, so we better get ready! Although I’d never really feared going to hell; as a nine, ten, eleven-year old, going to heaven was not a place I wanted to go to anytime soon.

The only thing that got me through the week, and I suspect a few others, was that big, delicious fish fry that awaited us on Saturday.

Every year, without exception, preachers would frighten us with their heaven-or-hell-is-right-around-the-corner sermons. However, I remember that one preacher preached a particular sermon that made me feel a lot better about going to heaven.

It was Friday night, and bless his heart, I suppose he was trying to connect the revival service with the fish fry that everyone was looking forward to the next day.

He said that one of the most appropriate things we can do at the end of these services is to have a fish fry. He said: “After all, most of Jesus’ disciples were fishermen. And Jesus called the disciples ‘fishers of men.’”

He also pointed out that the early Christians used the Greek word translated “fish” as an acronym for the first letters Greek words translated “Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior,” and how the sign of the fish was used to identify Christian communities, especially during the time when the church was persecuted.

But he did not get my full attention until he said: “But the reason that our fish fry tomorrow is especially appropriate is because when we all get to heaven with our new resurrected bodies, we are going to eat fish with Jesus, because after Jesus was resurrected, Jesus ate fish!”

For the very first time all week, I wanted to jump out of my pew and shout: “Amen! Brother, preach it!” Because that preacher answered one of those deep theological questions that no one could answer for me, a question that was more important than: “If God created the world, who created God?” or “Who was Cain’s wife? or “Did Adam and Eve have bellybuttons?”

He answered the all important: “Are we going to be able to eat in heaven?” The answer is a resounding yes! We are going to be able to eat fish! And for someone who loved to eat, and especially loved eating seafood, it took the fear of dying right away.

I really like this interpretation; however, I am pretty sure Luke, through the telling of this story, is trying to teach us something more.

Last Sunday, one of you asked me: “Isn’t Tilapia what they call ‘the Jesus fish?’” That really got me thinking about our scripture lesson this morning. What kind of fish did Jesus eat? And, what was the risen Christ trying to teach the disciples, and teach us, by asking for and eating a piece of broiled fish? Do you suppose Jesus, in his new resurrected body, was hungry? After all, from all we know, he hasn’t had anything to eat since that Thursday evening in the upper room.

To answer these questions, like all biblical questions, it is always important to put the story in its context.

The disciples had disappointed Jesus, and they knew it. The disciples had failed Jesus, and it was obvious. The disciples had forsaken Jesus, and they were cowering. For thirty pieces of silver, one of them betrayed Jesus with a kiss and then took his own life. One of them denied three times even knowing who Jesus was. To save their own necks, to avoid carrying a cross themselves, all of them in some way had abandoned Jesus in his hour of need.

And now they have received news that Jesus had come back from the grave. Which meant that he was probably coming straight for them. And considering their great failure at discipleship, they just knew that if he was coming, he was bringing hell with him!

“While they were talking about this…”

Can you imagine their conversation? “What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? How do we hide?”

John tells us the doors of the house where the disciples had gathered were locked for fear of the Jews. Perhaps the name of one of those Jews was Jesus.

It is then,

Jesus himself stood among them… They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost.

Notice that they were not only “startled,” they were “startled and terrified.”

I bet they were!  Like a ten-year old at a Baptist revival! For I am sure that in that moment they just knew that heaven or hell was right around the corner!

But then, notice what happens next. Jesus does not point out their failures. He doesn’t mention their denials, their betrayal, their abandonment. He does not shame them, guilt them or say anything to elicit any feelings remorse whatsoever for their bad behavior.

There are no words of judgment or condemnation. Jesus doesn’t give them a sermon on how they should have been better or even how they could do better.

Jesus surprises them and surprises us by saying, “Peace be with you.” To those who have very good reasons to be afraid, Jesus says, “Peace.”

He empathetically asks: ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?”

It is then where Jesus begins doing all that he can to relieve their doubts and fears. He shows them his hands and feet to prove that he was not some vengeful ghost come back to haunt them for their misdeeds.

And seeing a little joy in their eyes, but still sensing some lingering apprehension, Jesus takes it a step further and asks for something to eat. They hand him a piece of broiled fish that he eats in their presence.

He eats “in their presence.” It has been said that in sharing a meal with someone that we become most aware of who we are and with whom we are.  In the previous scripture passage, on the road to Emmaus, when was Jesus made known to them? In the breaking of the bread.

Throughout the world, sharing a meal with someone has always been understood a great act of solidarity. Thus, in eating that fish, Jesus was not only making the statement that he was not some vindictive ghost, Jesus was making the statement that he was their merciful friend. He was their gracious brother. In spite of all of their denials and betrayals, in spite of being abandoned, tortured, humiliated and crucified, Jesus still loves them and is still willing to join them at the table.

If the disciples had any doubts that their sins were forgiven, those doubts quickly vanished when Jesus took the first bite of that broiled fish.

And it quickly became apparent to the disciples that the fish Jesus asked to eat was not for him. It was for them. It was not the risen Christ who was hungry. It was the disciples who were hungry.

So, what kind of fish did Jesus eat?

It was a fish of unconditional love. It was a fish of unlimited mercy. It was a fish of radical inclusion. It was a fish of amazing grace. It was a fish that revealed nothing on earth or in heaven can ever separate us from the love of God.

It was a fish that revealed God is always willing go a step further to proclaim the good news of Easter: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

“My love for you has no end. My love for you never fails. My love does not keep an account of wrongdoing. My love is without reservations, without conditions. My love offers a grace that is greater than all sin and a peace that surpasses all understanding.”

Peace be with you, for you are my sons. You are my daughters. I have always loved you. I still love you. And I will love you forever. I will forgive you always. Peace, for I am making all things new. Fear not, for I am working all things together for the good. Do not doubt, for I am the resurrection and the life, and because I live you will also live. Peace be with you.”

The risen Christ ate fish—filling, satisfying, delicious fish—not because he was hungry, but because we are hungry.

It is very important for us to pay close attention to what happens next in our lesson: “Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed to all nations.”

What kind of fish did Jesus eat? He ate a fish that has the power to open minds!

Perhaps more than anything else, what the church needs are more minds that are open to understand the scriptures teach us that graceis what we are to proclaim to all nations.

Grace. Not judgment. Not condemnation. Not fear. Not shame. Not fire and brimstone. For those things never bring peace. Those things never bring healing.

It is unconditional love and peace that is to be proclaimed to all nations, beginning right here, from this very place where we became witnesses to these things:

  • Where we witnessed the words of the resurrected Christ: “Peace, be with you”: words spoken to remove all fear.
  • Where we witnessed the wounds in his hands and feet: wounds that have the power to heal the world.
  • Where we witnessed the Risen Lord eating a piece of broiled fish: where we experienced a grace that will satisfy the hunger of all humanity this day and forevermore. Peace be with you. Amen.

 

Invitation to Communion

This is the Lord’s table. He is the host. We are his guests.

He welcomes everyone to come and eat and be nourished, fed and forgiven.

Come and eat and live!

The only people excluded from our communion table are those that Jesus himself would exclude and that is nobody.

All are welcome.

 

Commissioning and Benediction

Go in courage and peace, proclaiming the Risen Lord to all!

Having witnessed unconditional love and unfettered grace,

Be a people who bring hope and justice to a hungry and hurting world!

The peace of the Lord is with you now and forever. AMEN.