 Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] May 11, 2025 “A Revealing Conversation” The Book of Revelation – note, it’s not the Book of Revelations – The Book of Revelation is something that many of us – myself included – have avoided, feared, and misunderstood. Too often, Revelation has been read like a doomsday countdown—filled with beasts, bowls of wrath, and judgment reserved for those who fail a purity test. It’s been used to frighten. But Revelation isn’t a horror story—it’s not a roadmap for the end of the world, but a dream, a protest for a persecuted people: refuse to give in to despair. An invitation to be free from fear. A story of hope. John, the seer of Patmos, was writing to early Christians living under the boot of the Roman Empire. The Empire said, “Worship Caesar. Accept your place. Don’t resist.” But John saw a different vision: not a tyrant on the throne but a Lamb. Instead of walls and borders, a city with open gates, a river of life flowing through a healed creation. Revelation is not a secret code. It’s the testimony of people who were incarcerated, exiled, enslaved, and poor—and yet… they still believed that God was coming to dwell among them, not to destroy the world. To renew the world, not condemn it. It speaks to this very time we are living in today – destruction every day of a planet whose climate is collapsing, tyrants on the rise, the silencing of opposition, the denial of racism by erasing history — Revelation dares to imagine this domination will not win. The Lamb—gentle, wounded, and just—is at the center of heaven. The vision ends with a city. A community. A place where all nations bring their glory. A place where the Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” Not to the righteous few, but to everyone who thirsts. Today, we’ll hear a conversation about what Revelation means between an evangelical who grew up fearing the beast, a progressive liberation theologian who sees resistance in every symbol, and a Black preacher who knows the beast by name and still walks toward healing. Let their voices open your heart. Let the Scripture speak beyond fear. Let Revelation reveal: That no matter how deep the empire’s shadow, there is a brighter light. A deeper justice. A river of life that flows even here, even now. Narrator: From chapter 1, verses 1-3 “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave… to show what must soon take place… Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of the prophecy, and blessed are those who hear and keep what is written in it.” Evangelical: I’ve always loved Revelation. It gives us a clear picture of the end—tribulation, the Antichrist, the Rapture. It helps me stay focused, stay ready, stay pure. Progressive: It’s powerful, but it’s not a play-by-play of the end. I read it as a vision of hope from people crushed by empire. It’s resistance literature—a cry that Caesar does not have the final word. Preacher: And for Black men and women -- whose ancestors toiled under lashes and laws, who still carry the weight of both racism and patriarchy-- Revelation is fire and balm. It calls out the beast of white supremacy, and still sings of a river that heals us all. Narrator: In Revelation chapter 13 “And I saw a beast rising out of the sea… The dragon gave the beast power and authority.” Evangelical: Wait—so the beast isn’t just about some evil ruler in the future? Progressive: No—it was Rome back then. And now? It might be any empire—economic, political, or religious—that demands worship and crushes the vulnerable. Preacher: The beast wears many disguises: Plantation. Prison. Even the pulpit. Systems that claim holiness but thrive on domination. Narrator: In Revelation chapter 5 “Then I saw… a Lamb, standing as if it had been slain… He is worthy to open the scroll.” Evangelical: But I thought Jesus returns in glory—with fire and judgment? Progressive: Christ does return in glory. But look at the center of the throne. Not a warlord. A Lamb. Wounded but standing. This is divine power turned upside down—nonviolence as victory. Preacher: That slain Lamb knows our pain. Knows what it means to be beaten by empire, silenced by religion, and still rise. And I’m telling you now—every Black mother who still sings, every trans sister who still breathes, every child caged by policy—they are the body of that Lamb. Narrator: From Revelation chapter 7 “A great multitude… from every nation, tribe, people, and language… crying out, ‘Salvation belongs to our God and to the Lamb!’” Evangelical: So this isn’t about escaping the world… but transforming it? Progressive: Yes. The New Jerusalem comes down. God doesn’t evacuate us. God dwells with us. Preacher: Right here in our skin. Right here in our streets. If the city of God has open gates, then we better make room at the table now—those who are unhoused, or queer, or incarcerated, single mothers, anyone who has felt the pain of being exiled. Narrator: From Revelation chapter 21 “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth… ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. God will dwell with them; they will be their people.’” Evangelical: I used to read Revelation with fear. Now it sounds like it could actually be Good News. Progressive: For the poor, the exiled, the earth itself—yes. It’s not a warning to escape, but a call to resist and rebuild. Preacher: It’s Harriet Tubman’s vision in a burning world, It’s Fannie Lou Hamer’s prayer, and it’s your abuela’s song. It says: Even now, we rise. Narrator: From Revelation chapter 22 “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life… and on either side of the river was the tree of life… and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.” Evangelical: Healing… not destruction. Freedom… not fear Preacher: Yes. A river for the dry bones. A tree for every wounded people. And a Lamb who leads us—not with wrath, but with wonder. Narrator: From Revelation chapter 22 “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ Let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’ Let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life freely.”
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 Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] May 4, 2025 “Persecuting Jesus” Acts 9: 1-9 – NRSVUE Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest 2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. 3 Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 5 He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. 6 But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” 7 The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. 8 Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing;[a] so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. 9 For three days he was without sight and neither ate nor drank. Stephen was a disciple – not one of the original 12 but an early follower of The Way, as the first Christians were called. He and six others were tapped to run a daily feeding program for widows. Early Christians were particularly committed to caring for “the least of these” – but there was a controversy. It seems that Jerusalem-based widows were being treated better than the widows who were new converts, particularly the Greek speaking ones, so Stephen and six others were chosen to organize and administer a program that ensured fairness. Stephen was a gifted administrator, described as “full of God’s grace and power.” But opposition arose against Stephen by the traditionalists. His opponents tried to debate him but they couldn’t win because of the “wisdom the Spirit gave him,” and so unable to defeat him, they dragged him in front of the Council. People presented false testimony against him, claiming, “We heard him insult Moses and God.” Stephen defended himself but the Council believed those accusing him; they were enraged and “began to grind their teeth at Stephen.” They threw him out of the city and began to stone him – but not before taking off their coats to free their arms for better aim. A young man held their coats while Stephen, rocks raining down on him, shouted, “Lord, don’t hold this sin against them.” That man holding their coats was “in full agreement with Stephen’s murder.” His name was Saul. And it was from there that Saul went into full vigilante mode. Chapter 8 describes how Saul “enthusiastically ravaged the church by entering house after house, dragging off both men and women” who belonged to the Way. And today in chapter 9, he went to the high priest and asked for letters he could take to all the synagogues in Damascus authorizing him to take any man or woman who belonged to The Way and drag them off to prison in Jerusalem – 150 miles away, no quick trip. It was on his way to Damascus, letters in hand, that Saul was blinded by a light and fell to the ground. He heard a voice asking “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” “Who are you?” “I am Jesus, the one you are persecuting.” Blinded by the encounter, Saul had to be led all the way to Damascus by hand. Meanwhile, a disciple named Ananias heard the voice of Jesus tell him to find Saul and then “place your hands on him and restore his sight.” “Master, you can’t be serious. Everybody’s talking about this man and his reign of terror against us!” But, Jesus said, “he’s the one I’ve chosen.” Ananias went and did what he was told and immediately, the scales began to fall from Saul’s eyes and he could see again. We can only pray that the same thing happens today – may the scales fall from the eyes of those who are persecuting Jesus. On Monday, the Rev. William Barber was arrested for praying in the rotunda of the Capitol in Washington, DC.[1] Not shouting, not carrying on. Just he and two other clergy wearing their stoles quietly praying for widows not to lose their Meals on Wheels. Rev. Barber is a member of the Disciples of Christ, our closest sister denomination, and the founder of Moral Mondays Movement that started in North Carolina 12 years ago to protest cuts to such programs as Meals on Wheels, school lunches, and assistance for families coping with rising food costs while working minimum wage jobs. Jesus asked, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” Not, why do you persecute them, but why do you persecute me, because when you harm the poorest, you harm me. You may have heard of how Thomas Jefferson took a razor to his Bible to cut and paste together a book of Jesus’ teachings that excluded all the miracles and most mentions of the supernatural. He praised what was left of Jesus’ words as “the most sublime edifice of morality which had ever been exhibited to man.” Well, in the spirit of Thomas Jefferson, Robb Ryerse published a book that blacked out all references in the gospels to the poor, anything about humility, compassion, and love.[2] Gone are warnings about greed, as well as calls to love and serve one another. What remains is a gospel of spectacle – a Jesus who walks on water, performs miracles – except for feeding 5,000 freeloaders. When Jesus gathered followers it’s not because he speaks of love and sacrifice, but because Jesus is powerful and famous. No forgiveness or grace. It aligns with the man who told his pastor, I want you to preach more sermons on repentance. “OK. What is your sin?” “Not mine. His!” In this Bible, what’s left of the Lord’s Prayer? “And when you pray, say: Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Give us this day our daily bread.” That’s it. When Jesus said, “You have heard it said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” he is not allowed to finish the sentence with, “but I say to you…” In place of Jesus’ proclamation of good news to the poor, liberation of the oppressed, and freedom for the prisoner, Christian nationalism demonizes them.
Christian nationalism is filled with enemies, threats, and endless battles to win. It’s full of grievances and vengeance and personal glorification – not self-denial. And Jesus said, “why are you persecuting me?” Don’t you understand, “What you do to the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you do to me.” That’s all Rev. Barber was trying to say. He didn’t shout like a street-corner preacher proclaiming hell and damnation to those who do not repent, but offered peaceful prayer. [SLIDE] And in response, officers moved in on him with plastic handcuffs, but not before expelling any witnesses, including all the press, and slamming the door so no one could see it happening. Rev. Barber is so disabled by chronic pain that he can barely walk, yet his quiet words were so dangerous, he had to be arrested for praying. You could say this is clear evidence of the government’s anti-Christian bias. Except in this cruel twist, someone who actually quotes Jesus is the one accused of anti-Christian bias. That’s the state of our country right now. It’s depressing to see what is happening and I might say Christianity may be a lost cause, but then look at the dramatic story of Saul’s conversion on his way to Damascus – the OG of conversion stories. Saul thought he was doing the right thing – the righteous thing. But here’s the miracle – and I do believe in miracles. Jesus didn’t destroy Saul. He simply disarmed him on his way to do harm. He humbled him. Perhaps more of a miracle, however, is that one of the people about to dragged off to prison agreed to heal the one who could have turned around and hauled him off to prison. And then calls him “Brother Saul!” That’s as dramatic a story of conversion as anything experienced on the Damascus Road. Hold on to that for a minute. It’s depressing to see what’s happening to Christianity in America. Not the decline in numbers and influence, the closing of churches, but the real persecution of Jesus – by which I mean the betrayal of his teachings by those who claim to be Christian – not that I claim to preach a pure Christianity. I’m as full of bias and blind spots as anyone. I hope and pray, like Abraham Lincoln about the Civil War, not that God is on my side but that I am, however imperfectly, on the side of God. But thank God for Rev. Barber and Bishop Maryanne Budde and others. Their simple prophetic pleas for mercy and prayers for widows are like living water. Progressive Christians must more emphatically, for example, pronounce blasphemy about such things as the images coming directly from the White House of the president in full papal garb – while a billion Catholics are in mourning about their beloved Pope. This must be declared profane. We might feel quite hopeless right now, yet as I’ve said repeatedly, there is hope – but not just for ourselves. The church has a big role to play for individuals struggling to cope. How? For one, to communicate how vitally important community is when the world feels polarized. In place of your despair, there’s a place to serve and belong.
I believe this. I dare think you do too. And if so, why keep it a secret? This week you’re going to receive an email to help us begin to craft a message based on your experience to then spread the word: “you can find hope and joy here too.” When you receive our email, I ask for the gift of your time to give thoughtful reflections. And so, back to the story. The scales fell from Saul’s eyes. He got up, was baptized, and went to the same synagogues where he intended to arrest members of The Way. Instead, he began to preach that Jesus was the Christ. Everyone who heard him was baffled and didn’t believe him. In fact, they were so incensed they hatched a plot to kill him. The few disciples who believed in his conversion helped him escape by lowering him in a basket through an opening in the city wall at night. He fled to Jerusalem but no one believed it there either. Barnabas got some of them to reluctantly accept him but others also wanted to murder him. A family of believers helped him escape and sent him back to his home in Tarsus. And then we hear nothing more for quite some time. Later, of course, he became second in importance to Christianity only behind Jesus himself – quite a reversal of fortune, once the scales fell from his eyes. But remember what I said earlier: The scales fell because someone took a risk and reached out with a healing hand. And so, who needs conversion? Maybe that’s you. Maybe it’s me. To tend the wounds of a persecuted Jesus, bringing both a prophetic word and a healing hand. So, Jesus, send us out to proclaim the reign of your kingdom Send us out to proclaim and to heal Send us out with your power and your authority To overcome and to heal the world. [1] https://wordandway.org/2025/04/29/rev-william-barber-arrested-in-capitol-rotunda-after-praying-against-republican-led-budget/?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email [2] Robb Ryerse, The Gospel According to Donald Trump, 2025   Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] April 20, 2025 “Hope is What You Do” Luke 24: 5b-7 – Common English Bible The women were frightened and bowed their faces toward the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? 6 He isn’t here, but has been raised. Remember what he told you while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Human One[a] must be handed over to sinners, be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” After supper, Jesus went to the Mount of Olives to pray. He asked his disciples to stay awake and wait for him, but not surprisingly, when he came back, he found them sleeping. Just then, a crowd showed up. Judas walked over – “Greetings, Rabbi!” – and kissed Jesus. That was the sign. As soldiers began to take him away, one of his followers took a sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. “None of this,” Jesus said, and he touched his ear to heal it. “Why have you come with swords and clubs to arrest me, as though I’m a thief. I was in the temple every day in broad daylight. But,” he said, “this is your time, when darkness rules.” They led him away to the high priest’s house. They tied him up, blindfolded him, and beat him. They kept insulting him and taunting, “who’s hitting you?” In the morning the chief priests and legal experts questioned him and declared, “Blasphemy!” They rose up and led him to Pilate, the Roman governor, and accused Jesus of misleading the people. They claimed, falsely, that Jesus opposed the payment of taxes to Caesar. They claimed, falsely, “He calls himself a king.” “Are you?” Pilate asked. “That’s what you say.” Pilate declared, “I find no legal basis for action against this man.” That’s the language of the Gospel of Luke in the Common English Bible. The religious leaders objected strenuously, arguing, “He agitates the people with his teaching.” When Pilate learned that Jesus was from Galilee, he passed him off to King Herod who was actually happy to meet the much-talked-about man and peppered him with questions, but Jesus didn’t respond. The religious leaders kept accusing Jesus of treason and blasphemy. They provided witnesses who lied and made things up. Herod’s soldiers treated Jesus with contempt, dressing him in elegant clothes to mock him. Herod passed him back to Pilate. Pilate asked again, “what has he done? I have questioned him in front of you and neither Herod or I have found anything in this man’s conduct that provides a legal basis for the charges you have brought against him. He’s done nothing that deserves death. I’ll have him whipped, but then I’m letting him go.” But the unholy alliance of religion and empire shouted with one voice, “kill him!” Why? He offered them an alternative to Jesus, but a second time with more intensity, “Kill him.” But why? And a third time, “Kill him!!” Pilate gave them what they wanted. And with that, Jesus was led away to be executed. They nailed him to a cross on which he hung until he breathed his last breath. We can’t proclaim an alleluia Easter morning resurrection story until we’ve been honest about the brutal execution of this innocent man on Good Friday. And we can’t proclaim resurrection this Easter morning without also being honest: It’s Good Friday in America. Too harsh? But saying it out loud, being honest, allows us to confront this harsh reality with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Christianity has much more to teach us about how to live through these present times than we may think. For some, Christianity is an escape plan. Heaven awaits. For others, we take seriously the prayer of Jesus: “The Kingdom of God on earth, as it is in heaven.” Now. But first, I’m not optimistic about what’s coming next. It feels like we’re standing on just the edge of something terrifying. The Roman Empire of Jesus’ time mirrors the authoritarianism on the rise across the globe. We can watch in real time all the ways Rome used the threats of violence and manufactured fear in order to center and maintain its power in one person. And therefore, Caesars in every age attempt to disappear those they deem dangerous or defiant. That was Jesus’ world. What did he do? And what does that tell us? The world as we have known it based on the rule of law and centered on the pursuit of liberty and justice for all, however imperfectly, is at a breaking point. Even though privilege shields most of us, when it’s done in our name, none of us are untouched. It is easy to feel hopeless. In fact, that’s often the intention. But more to the intent, “If I do try to speak up, I could become a target.” I’m not optimistic because optimism has to pretend this isn’t happening, can’t happen here. Optimism brushes aside pain to find the silver lining. I’m afraid there isn’t one, or at least I’m not optimistic about it. But I am a Christian. I’m a follower of Jesus. And that means, I have hope. You see, hope is different. True hope is not simply wishing for things to get better, it’ll all work out. It is about being part of the solution. As Dr. James Cone, the father of Black Liberation Theology, said: “Hope is not a feeling; it is something you do.” Having hope, claiming hope is an act of defiance. Just like joy is an act of resistance. Hope, however, is not a one-time “something you do.” It is a practice that must be nurtured. Like the poet Amanda Gorman said: “Every day we are learning how to live with essence, not ease. How to move with haste, never hate. How to leave this pain that is beyond us – behind us. Just like any skill or any art, we cannot possess hope without practicing it. It is the most fundamental craft we demand of ourselves.[1] Unlike optimism which changes with how we feel, Christianity provides a way to live: rhythms that sustain hope, like the weekly rhythm of worship, the daily rhythm of prayer, the regular practice of gathering in community, the necessity of Sabbath rest. It is here that we encounter scripture which acts as a guide to help us remember that we have been here before and what to do, because “hope is not a feeling; it is something you do” when everyone around you screams: “Don’t even try.” The empire executed Jesus, but not just Jesus. Rome crucified thousands. Tens of thousands. Bodies hung like billboards: “Don’t cause trouble. This will happen to you.” In 71 BCE, Rome crucified 6,000 people along a single road – the Appian Way. They used so much wood, they ran out of trees. But although they may have killed Jesus, they couldn’t stop him. As Marianne Borg said so powerfully, “Crucifixion failed to liquidate and obliterate Jesus. It failed to silence his followers. It failed to erase him from memory.” The empire thought it had the power of inevitability. They were certain, of course, the followers of Jesus would just give up. But they weren’t seeking power. They weren’t trying to take control and dominate the people. They were dominated – perhaps there’s a better word – they were persuaded by, gave their life to, the world Jesus proclaimed: Good news to the poor, release the prisoners, liberate the oppressed, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. They sought the world his mother Mary proclaimed: the powerful toppled from their thrones, the hungry filled, the humble lifted high. They actually believed in the power of forgiveness, redemption, mercy and most of all, love. Resurrection was God’s defiant holy refusal, but not just for Jesus. Resurrection is God’s call to us to rise up with the Risen One and refuse injustice too. Rising up for people Kilmar Abrego Garcia, who without lawful due process and made up excuses, is unjustly held in a Salvadoran prison. In any age, empires attempt to disappear those it deems disposable or defiant, labeling them dangerous. Like Rome and its billboard of bodies lining the Appian Way, terror is the point but Jesus is the counterpoint, and therefore, we’re not afraid. Now is the time to proclaim that we do not belong to those who divide and demean, they can’t control us. We belong to Jesus who teaches us to love our neighbor and even our enemies. It’s lazy to return hate for hate. Our hope – our “do something” – must always reflect the love of God – seeking to expose malevolence without being consumed by it. Christian hope does not deny our feelings or pretend that everything is fine when it's not. It acknowledges suffering in all its rawness and yet refuses to let it have the final word. I may be not optimistic today, but I’ve got hope. And that is much more powerful. Hope is a powerful word of defiance on behalf of the crucified. Together, let us be hopeful. Let us be hopeful for every trans teen daring to live. Let us be hopeful for every undocumented soul in search of home. Let us be hopeful for every Kilmar Abrego Garcia and all those threatened to be next. Beloved, on this Easter morning, may we go, not just proclaiming that Christ is risen. Let us all rise with Christ. [1] Amanda Gorman, “Every day we are learning,” Call Us What We Carry, Viking, 2021, p. 52  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] April 6, 2025 “God Doesn’t Think that Small” Luke 19: 1-10 – Common English Bible Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through town. 2 A man there named Zacchaeus, a ruler among tax collectors, was rich. 3 He was trying to see who Jesus was, but, being a short man, he couldn’t because of the crowd. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed up a sycamore tree so he could see Jesus, who was about to pass that way. 5 When Jesus came to that spot, he looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, come down at once. I must stay in your home today.” 6 So Zacchaeus came down at once, happy to welcome Jesus. 7 Everyone who saw this grumbled, saying, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” 8 Zacchaeus stopped and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord, I give half of my possessions to the poor. And if I have cheated anyone, I repay them four times as much.” 9 Jesus said to him, “Today, salvation has come to this household because he too is a son of Abraham. 10 The Human One came to seek and save the lost.” Last week a bunch of religious leaders grumbled that Jesus “welcomes sinners and eats with them,” so he told them a parable about leaving 99 sheep behind to go look for the one. In today’s reading, his critics are back at it. We’ve jumped ahead four chapters and yet, once again, “everyone who saw this – who saw Jesus ask to visit Zacchaeus’s house – grumbled, saying, ‘He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.’” These religious leaders are really fixated on how awful it is that “those people” are drawn to the message of Jesus and that there’s a place for them at his table. Even worse in their mind, in some of his parables, Jesus isn’t just inviting “those people” to sit with the religious leaders at the same table but, oh my God! in place of them and even at the head of the table, no less. Jesus provokes them, like in the previous chapter, he told a parable about another tax collector and a Pharisee. They were both at the altar praying, but the Pharisee, who was quite pleased with himself, loudly proclaimed, “Thank God I’m not like that tax collector.” To the shock of the Pharisees, Jesus praised the tax collector. They’re grumbling has taken the form of plotting – in fact, this all takes place a week before his execution. But this time, the crowd, usually on the side of Jesus, got in on the grumbling too; and for a very good reason. “Sinner” doesn’t begin to describe how people saw Zacchaeus. More like, collaborator. More like, extortionist or crook. More like, even, a traitor to his people. All because of his job. But he was no ordinary IRS agent for whom we are grateful because they collect money to pay for schools and hospitals and roads and parks. Zacchaeus collected taxes for the Roman Empire who used the people’s money to abuse the people. How’d he get into that line of work? Little Zack grew up in a hotspot for global trade – a crossroad through which things from exotic places like Mesopotamia and Arabia passed. They traded Jericho’s valuable salt and grains for luxurious textiles from Babylonia, jewelry and cosmetics from Egypt, obsidian from Turkey. It all came through Jericho and his parents were wealthy from all this commerce. Thus, Little Zack grew up surrounded by the finest things of life. And once you’ve had it all, you want more. Somehow, for some people, more than enough is still never enough – right? And when you can’t get more off the rich, you squeeze it out of the little guy. Gosh, it kinda sounds like Elon Musk. In fact, Elon Musk might be the best way I could illustrate how people felt about Zacchaeus. How would you feel if you watched Jesus ask Elon to visit his house for dinner? Yeah, I’d be in the crowd on the side of the grumblers. So, back to Little Zack. When the Romans went around looking for people to collect their taxes, they didn’t want some ordinary guy who needed a job. They chose the already rich, the ones for whom enough is never enough, because they were likely the best ones to squeeze the poor for everything they could get. And Zacchaeus was so good at it, he was made the chief tax collector – which made him even more of a pariah to his people and even more isolated. Fellow Jews only saw him as a traitor. The Romans weren’t his friends, they just used him. His only community, the only place where he felt like he belonged, was with other “those people” types. So, why was Zacchaeus up in a sycamore tree that day? He wanted to see Jesus. By this time, he had quite a reputation, constantly followed by crowds hungry for his message; also followed by religious leaders and Romans to keep an eye on him. They were frightened that this rabble-rousing prophet would cause trouble, especially the upcoming week in Jerusalem. That’s why they were passing through Jericho – on their way up to Jerusalem along with everyone else for the annual spring festival of Passover to celebrate the Israelites’ liberation from slavery in Egypt. They worried: what might this guy do? Surely the idea of “liberation from Rome” had crossed their mind. But again, why was Zacchaeus in the tree that day? Was he just curious? Or perhaps he was just as hungry for some kind of change of heart and life as everyone else. But here’s where the interpretation of this very familiar parable gets complicated. Traditional interpretations, as many of us heard it taught growing up, have a personal salvation angle. Zacchaeus scrambled down from the tree and following his encounter with Jesus, he repented of his sin and offered to pay restitution. But that’s not really in the text. Here’s what it says: The indignant crowd grumbles, “what business does he have getting cozy with this crook?” Hearing them, Zacchaeus told Jesus, “I give half my possessions to the poor. And if I have cheated anyone, I repay them four times as much.” He doesn’t say, and this is what I now will do. In the Greek, he says, this is what I do – as in, this is what I already do. That challenges the “he repented of his sin” angle. But it also challenges my whole assessment of him as a “more than enough is never enough” kind of guy. Is that an accurate reading of the text? Something life-changing happened to Zacchaeus, no doubt, but it’s not because he quit his job or changed what he’s been doing. Jesus says nothing about repentance, yet he proclaimed, “Today, salvation has come to this household.” But what does that mean? That the man Zacchaeus was saved from his sin? There’s more to it. As I said last week, healing for Jesus often wasn’t just about taking away a disease or an impediment from an individual. The larger impact was that the individual, having been long separated because of their disease, could now be reunited with their community. This is a similar healing-as-reunion story as Jesus reminds the crowd, he too is a son of Abraham. The last thing Jesus said in this passage is, “the Human One came to seek and save the lost.” But as I asked last week, what does “lost” mean here? Lost, like you must repent because you’re not saved? Or lost, because you were alienated from your community and now, just like the one sheep back with the 99, your entire household is restored to the community. That is salvation with a much greater impact than we often preach. Richard Rohr has a new book subtitled “prophetic wisdom in an age of outrage.”[1] He wrote, “For centuries, the church has been trying to save individuals while completely ignoring the corrupt system in which individuals live.” Like focusing exclusively on the story of Zacchaeus as a matter personal salvation. Rohr said, nothing will ever change if we merely try to convert the ‘bad guys.’ If all we do is look for bad apples in the system instead of injustice, no one’s pain will ever be completely healed. “Jesus simultaneously healed individuals while critiquing the systems that made them need healing.” That’s why Jesus kept provoking the religious leaders for their unholy alliance with the empire. “If we read stories of Jesus performing miraculous cures, we might think “wow!” for five seconds. But when you ask why the healing was needed, it requires a whole new way of seeing what needs to change.” Including institutionalized evils the powerful call good. Jesus demonstrated not the corrupt system’s violent overthrow, and certainly not white Christian nationalists taking control of the system and trying to impose power for themselves. But Jesus did teach his followers to change the violent system in which they lived. But his improbable method, both then and now, is to change it with love. Not the feeling, but the power. Not mere sentimentality, but the church cannot ignore, for example as Dr. King said, “When evil men plot, good people must plan. When evil men burn and bomb, good people must build and bind. When evil men shout ugly words of hatred, good people must commit themselves to the [power] of love.” Over the years, millions of people have gone to Billy Graham style revival meetings, walking forward to the music of Just as I Am with tearful promises to change their lives. I went to the altar at my home church at age 7, the blasphemous sinner that I was. It was a personally transformative experience that I remember to this day, but I was never told to turn my repentance into anything more than to stop maybe cussing and drinking – again, I was 7. If everyone who went to a Billy Graham crusade went home that night convicted of their racial prejudice and changed their ways – wow! Instead, it was spiritualized. When Dr. King spoke of little black boys and girls in Alabama joining hands with little white boys and girls in his I Have a Dream speech, Graham dismissed, or rather diminished, the message by proclaiming, “Only when Christ comes again will the little white children of Alabama walk hand in hand with little black children.”[2] But God doesn’t think that small. This is not to suggest that it’s not important to judge our personal actions by the demands and invitation of the gospel, to be honest and change our hearts and lives, or in other words, repent. But again, healing for Jesus wasn’t just for the individual. Personal salvation that doesn’t turn from an inward transformation of myself to an outward manifestation for others is too small to be a God-thing. For example, we quickly criticize someone as a welfare-cheat before questioning record corporate profits. God doesn’t think that small. We cut money that feeds millions of seniors receiving Meals on Wheels that by comparison to a billionaire, he could use to feed a few goldfish. What possible purpose does that serve that isn’t completely morally corrupt? Morally corrupt individuals manipulate repentance into personal failings instead of repentance for the country’s failures to provide for its most vulnerable citizens. God doesn’t think that small. Jesus sought a greater impact. In this story, that Zacchaeus, long separated, could be reunited with his community. It is a healing-as-reunion story. The greater impact we need right now for our country is healing as reunion, which is why in our prayer of intercession to follow, we not only pray for all who are fearful and troubled by such things as the personal impacts of economies crashing around the world, especially the impact on the poor. We also pray for those causing fear to reign. We pray not only for our hurting and divided nation, we pray for those inflicting harm, conflict, and division. But let us not forget to follow our Savior Jesus Christ and his example to provoke and keep provoking religious leaders who are in an unholy alliance with the empire. Otherwise we diminish Jesus himself. For what do you seeking healing this morning? Trust that Jesus heals. Then let that inward transformation become an outward manifestation and embrace your call to be a healer, repairers of the breach, the terrible chasm between each other and heal our whole world. That’s big enough to be worthy of God. [1] Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage, Convergent, 2025 [2] https://www.cnn.com/2018/02/22/us/billy-graham-mlk-civil-rights/index.html  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 30, 2025 “The Joy of Being Found” Luke 15: 1-7 – The Message By this time a lot of men and women of questionable reputation were hanging around Jesus, listening intently. The Pharisees and religion scholars were not pleased, not at all pleased. They growled, “He takes in sinners and eats meals with them, treating them like old friends.” Their grumbling triggered this story. 4-7 “Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’ Count on it—there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue. Why was that sheep lost? Did she just wander off mindlessly until she didn’t know where she was? Did he run off because he was spooked? Did they try to grasp for just one more particularly delicious looking blade of grass and accidentally tumble into a hole? If we really dig into the parable, it might not have been so innocent. There was very little Jesus did without upsetting the stuffy religious types of his day – often quite deliberately. You know the types who would call naked people shameful rather than asking why, and “are you OK,” and providing them with clothes. It seems pretty clear that today’s parable is directed at those who grumbled about such things. They grumbled that Jesus shouldn’t be spending so much time hanging out with people who, let’s be honest, were probably a lot more fun to be around. Would you rather have deep philosophical conversations while hanging out at a biker bar or spend an hour with the self-important, self-righteous sitting around the dinner table gossiping about “those” people – probably just jealous that Jesus was having a much better time. Aware of the criticism, Jesus asked the grumblers, “if you had a hundred sheep and lost one, you’d leave the 99 to go find the one. Right?” Yes? Hello?? As Sarah Speed asked in her poem, surely some in the crowd were rolling their eyes. “What fool leaves 99 behind to look for one?” And in a business sense, that would be logical – otherwise you risk losing more of the 99. But none of the grumblers answered. Because, again, why was that sheep lost? Did she just wander off mindlessly? Did he run off because he was spooked? Did they try to grasp for just one more particularly delicious looking blade of grass and accidently tumble into a hole? Or maybe the self-important, self-righteous grumblers had thrown her out? Unfortunately, one doesn’t have to dig very far before encountering such stories, for example, of people who are divorced and no longer allowed in some traditions to receive communion. Or like Joe Murray who was involved in the Rainbow Sash Movement in the early 2000s. It was an international effort by faithful LGBTQ Christians to counter discrimination in their denomination. Every year on Pentecost, participants wore a rainbow sash as they went forward for communion. Clergy were forewarned and instructed not to serve them, as happened again one year when Joe went forward and was refused. He walked away with his hands open and empty, showing the congregation that he had been denied. But this time, one of the choir members saw this and was moved with compassion. She went back in line and took another communion wafer and brought it to Joe. In another church, an elderly man saw what happened. He too had compassion and set aside his cane so he could take his own wafer and break it into pieces to share with those left out, put out, or shut out from grace. Or like Cameron who felt drawn to attend a service, but was excluded from communion. Afterward she wrote a letter to the pastor asking why. He responded, “You spoke about ‘exclusion.’ In some circles, exclusion has taken on such a pejorative meaning, as if all exclusivity is wrong. The State has no difficulty in excluding people with no vision from obtaining a driver’s license. The State excludes bars from serving a shot of whiskey to a 10-year-old, and thus you would be acting exclusively. Exclusion protects citizens. So, it is with the Church and Holy Communion.”[1] Ummm… Jesus asked the grumblers, “If you had someone excited to receive the sacrament, you’d jump right up and personally escort them to the front of the line. Right? Yes? Hello?! If you had a hundred sheep and lost one, you’d leave the 99 to go find that one. Right?” But maybe Jesus wasn’t talking about the one who was “lost” – those of questionable reputations. Maybe he was talking about those who labeled them lost and shut the door. Who is really lost? It’s the kind of thing Jesus would ask because there was very little Jesus did without upsetting the soberly religious types of his day. And such exclusion was the kind of thing the people of “questionable reputation” listening to Jesus had experienced. They identified with feeling lost, or rather, being labeled lost. But that’s only one part of the parable. Then Jesus said, “And when you find the sheep, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’” Right? You’d do that? Parables always have lots of meanings and layers and multiple ways to interpret. And as Sarah Speed’s poem says, “Maybe God wasn’t talking about us.” About our actions. How we should go and search. “Maybe God was talking about her own reckless love. Maybe God was talking about her own willingness to Turn the world upside down just to look for me.” And thus, the parable shifts from about being lost or searching for what is lost to the joy of finding and the joy of being found. Marcus was an addict, “is” an addict to be more correct, and had descended into his own personal hell which resulted in a combination of being put out and running away to avoid being put out. He disappeared. Everyone gave up on him, except one who kept searching and finally found him. Marcus described how surreal it felt when he was found: Upon first sight, there was this strange disorientation. For so long, I didn’t even remember what it felt like to be seen. And then, realizing that someone, something, looked for me, I felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude that rose up in my chest. Like what I would imagine as breathing for the first time after nearly drowning. That you hadn’t just been forgotten or left behind. There was someone who looked until they saw me. Gratitude. Joy. But then, Marcus said, almost immediately, fear. Being found isn’t just about rescue. It’s about being exposed, no longer able to hide in the shadows. You have to trust that the person who’s found you is there to care for you and help you move forward, not just to take you back to where you were. I love that description. To help you move forward, to do more than take you back to where you were. Like Victoria, whose mom died and her dad was in prison so she went to live with an uncle’s family. But Victoria didn’t feel like she belonged there, that her cousins didn’t want her there, so at 15, she ran away to live with her boyfriend. But his mother forced her to return home. She said, when I reluctantly and fearfully walked back into the house, no one expressed anger that I had run away – just joy that I was back home. And from that day forward, they worked hard to make me feel like I belonged. No longer did I live with my cousins. They were my brothers and sisters. When Jesus healed, often it wasn’t just to take away their disease but to reunite them with their communities from which they had been separated. Healing as restoration not only of body, mind, and spirit, but restored to one another. The importance of belonging… it just can’t be overstated how important that was to Jesus. Just like the joy of the one sheep being back with the 99. Jesus ends the parable, “Count on it—there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.” But wait a minute, after all that you still call them a sinner?! What do you mean “sinner?” Or rather, who do you mean? Who does Jesus say needs to repent? The people of questionable reputation? Or the grumblers. And yet, one day, as the grumblers repent and begin to experience the joy of welcoming others home, they too will finally understand the parable isn’t just for “those people” but for themselves too: this overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God it chases us down, fights 'til we’re found, leaves the ninety-nine I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God[2] Love for anyone the grumblers grumble about, even Jesus, and the grumblers, too – key to the story. And me, I pray, and all of us who grumble about the grumblers. You won’t give up on them either. Right? I know I’m doing a lot of grumbling these days. How can we help it? However, while you and I are feeling despair at the state of our world and those dismantling it, imagine the joy we will feel when all is one day restored and we are a nation at peace with one another. Yeah, I know, kind of impossible to imagine right now. But, as Dr. King said, “I refuse to accept despair as the final response.” And so imagine the joy of our reunion, but don’t just imagine. In the meantime, there’s too much to do: join resistance and support groups, write to political leaders and sign petitions. Show up for rallies, protests, and marches. Boycott, strike, and donate to causes that help people who are being harmed. Be a thorn in the side of abusive power and don’t stay silent because silence equals complicity, and that’s exactly what grumblers want. Refuse to be paralyzed.[3] Do all this because we imagine the joy of being reunited, but not just to go back where we were. To continue the ongoing pursuit of building a more perfect union, where there actually is life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for people of every race, creed, nation, ability, sexual orientation and gender identity; a nation with actual liberty and justice for all. Where Lady Liberty is allowed to proclaim, and we believe it, “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” Imagine the joy in heaven when we’re not just reunited, but that we became the dream of all being found and free. [1] https://catholictimescolumbus.org/news/father-paul-keller-op-s-t-d/why-does-the-church-exclude-some-people-from-communion [2] https://genius.com/Cory-asbury-reckless-love-lyrics [3] Adapted from a list by The Naked Pastor https://nakedpastor.com/blogs/news/how-to-survive-a-challenging-era 
Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 23, 2025 “The Three Trees” Luke 13: 6-9 – Common English Bible A Jesus told this parable: “A man owned a fig tree planted in his vineyard. He came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7 He said to his gardener, ‘Look, I’ve come looking for fruit on this fig tree for the past three years, and I’ve never found any. Cut it down! Why should it continue depleting the soil’s nutrients?’ 8 The gardener responded, ‘Lord, give it one more year, and I will dig around it and give it fertilizer. 9 Maybe it will produce fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down.’" For years I’ve tried to find an angle on the fig tree story that made sense. Give it time; yes. Give it attention; uh huh. Give it nutrients; yeah good. Except, by the way, if it doesn’t produce in a year, chop it down. So, let’s try another approach. Who are the characters in the parable? There’s the vineyard owner and the gardener. In addition, we always consider the crowd listening in. Almost always, there were those who could relate to his teaching, who heard messages of mercy and grace. And in the same crowd, there were almost always those Jesus offended. In the verses immediately before, the message could be applied to everyone. Jesus made the point that everyone needs to change their heart and lives before something bad happens. You never know the day you will die, so be ready. But then in the next verses, regarding the fig tree, Jesus said, give it another year. So, which is it? You must today! Or you can wait a year. You may have heard the joke, all you need to do is repent the day before you die. What a great strategy. But it’s kind of like what my dentist once told me. I hate to floss so I asked him, which of my teeth should I concentrate on. He said, “the ones you want to keep.” So, yeah, simply repent the day before you die – but, of course, no one knows that day or time. Still searching for an angle that works, maybe this story will help.[1] Once upon a time, in a lush and tranquil valley, there were three little trees. They shared with each other their big dreams of what they would be when they grew up. The first tree, let’s call her Lucy. Lucy dreamed of being a treasure chest. She said, “one day, people will fill me with gold and jewels and they will treasure me because I’ll be filled with riches and the most beautiful things in the world!” The second tree, let’s call him Lawrence, dreamed of being a big ship. "One day, I’ll sail the seas and carry kings and queens across vast oceans. I will be magnificent!" The third tree, let’s call them Luis. Luis was the smallest and also had big dreams, but not to be rich, beautiful, or powerful. “I want to stay right here and keep growing taller so I can point toward the heavens and inspire people to know that the power of God is great.” As the years passed, one by one the trees in the forest were cut down for different purposes. When it was her time, Lucy was chopped down and taken to a carpenter’s shop. Imagine all the possibilities – maybe even a treasure chest filled with gold and jewels. Instead, she was carved into a trough for animal feed. Great, she thought, I get to endure a lifetime of animal saliva. When it was his time, Lawrence was cut down and taken to a shipyard, maybe fulfilling his dream to carry kings and sail the ocean. Instead, he was cut up and made into a small fishing boat. Great, he thought, now I’m going to permanently smell like fish. Day after day he was put out on the water and came back loaded with guts and blood. Maybe Luis would have better luck with their dreams. For many years, they stood alone and maybe they would indeed be left in the valley to grow tall and point to the heavens and inspire people to believe God is great. But one day a woodcutter finally came and Luis was delivered to a small lumberyard and cut into beams. The possibilities were endless. “Maybe I’ll be used to build a small cozy house for a family.” But it appeared the owner forgot they were even there. Years passed and their exterior weathered to the point that one day when some soldiers came looking for old useless-looking wood, they chose Luis. The dreams each tree imagined for itself ended up disappointing all three. Or so it would seem. One night after another day of animals slobbering on her, something very unusual happened to Lucy. A baby was placed inside wrapped in swaddling clothes. You can figure out the story. Lucy held the new-born Son of God, the richest of treasures more beautiful than jewels. Soon, magi showed up to honor the child with such treasures as gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But they were warned to go home a different way because the local cruel, paranoid king was afraid of that baby. One night, Lawrence floated empty on the sea. No fish all night. Back on shore, the owners cleaned their nets. A man walked by and asked them to let him get in and push out a little way so he could talk to a crowd gathered around. Lawrence got the sense that the man standing in the boat may be more powerful than a king or even an emperor. He was proclaiming the kingdom of God. When the man finished speaking, Lawrence was sent back out into deeper water and nearly drowned from the load of fish that miraculously jumped into the boat. And then there’s Luis. The soldiers immediately took two weathered old beams and began nailing them into the same shape as the Roman Empire used to murder people considered threats to their authority. One of these men was forced to drag his instrument of death through the streets to the jeering of crowds and then, you know the story, he was nailed to it. Luis thought, what a sad way to end my dreams. Until the third day. Lucy held the treasure of a baby whose birth frightened a cruel, paranoid king. Lawrence carried the man who provoked the authorities with all his talk of religion as love, not rules. And Luis stood tall, ultimately inspiring people to know that God is great. That God can overturn even the worst that can happen to us. That God can conquer the plans of even the most cruel and paranoid rulers and the most hard-hearted, stiff-necked, smallest-minded religious leaders. Lucy, Lawrence, and Luis each played their part and in unexpected ways, all fulfilled their dreams. I love that story. But other than being about Jesus and trees, what does it have to do with the fig tree in a vineyard from the gospel of Luke today? Well, the story made me consider viewing the parable from the perspective of the fig tree. Think about what this tree must have felt as it stood there while people discussed its lack of worth and future destruction if it doesn’t produce value. How would that make you feel? The story said the tree had been planted three years ago. A quick Google search will show that fig trees don’t begin to produce fruit for at least three years from when they’re planted. How could it have been expected to? Even without Google, the crowd would have known this. But it’s also the case that the fig tree had been completely ignored. Now all of a sudden, it’s a crisis? Only now they’re going to give it the nutrients it needs? And, wait a minute, chop it down if it doesn’t produce in a year? Imagine that kind of pressure. Or maybe some of you don’t have to imagine the pressure to produce on someone else’s schedule, their crisis about you, not given the resources to fulfill your purpose and responsibilities. Or maybe you can relate to standing by as others debate your fate, perhaps as a patient listening to doctors talk about you but not with you. And perhaps you can see how we might relate to the fig tree. And if so, is Jesus pointing his finger at if to pronounce shame? “You didn’t produce fruit. Off to hell you go!” Jesus never shamed the poor and vulnerable for being poor and vulnerable. But he absolutely did shame those who took advantage of the poor and vulnerable. He called them hypocrites and broods of vipers for perverting their religion from the centrality of its teaching on justice and compassion for widows, orphans, strangers, and immigrants – that’s a big part of why he hung from a cross. But for the fig tree, Jesus had mercy. And mercy makes the powerful angry. Was it the tree’s fault for not producing fruit? It wasn’t yet time. If you feel at all like the fig tree, maybe this profoundly confounding parable is simply about patience and rest and soaking up nutrients. But, ah… not forever. I mourn that many of our dreams for a diverse, equitable, and inclusive world are being shredded. And with the dismantling of the social safety net, our neighbors are soon to be at more risk than at any time in our collective memory. With the destruction of laws and norms and civic obligations to one another, with world peace at more risk now than it has been for half a century, this is not so much a time to rest as for action, and yet we can’t constantly be in action, depriving ourselves of the nutrients necessary for life. As Cole Arthur Riley said, “exhaustion will not save the world.” Therefore, “we must breathe slow and rest that we might dream.” Dream, maybe not for a chest full of gold but, more importantly, a humble manger full of treasures like empathy and kindness; not the imagined fast and powerful ship but a small boat that can rescue people in open water; maybe not a tall steeple that points to God in heaven above but the example of how the power of God turned what happened to you on your worst day into a testimony to a love we can’t help but share. It can be difficult to rest and not feel guilty for resting, but just like the fig tree, let us accept that we too need more time and care, attention and patience, and pray: Dear God, “We want more than a life lived exhausted. That you have woven the healing rhythms of rest in our minds and bodies reminds us we are worthy of habitual restoration. We grow weary of societies who view us as more machine than human, more product than soul. The fear that we won’t survive without overworking stalks our days. Remind us that the beauty and paradox of our humanness is that we were made to close our eyes, that we might see.” That prayer is in the book Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Staying Human [2] Maybe the parable’s not so profoundly confounding after all but a simple acknowledgement of Christ’s mercy upon the tree. And upon you. Mercy and a call to action. [1] Significantly adapted from a folktale called The Three Trees [2] Cole Arthur Riley, Black Liturgies, Convergent Books, 2024  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 16, 2025 “Active Faith and Faithful Action” Luke 10: 38-42 – Common English Bible While Jesus and his disciples were traveling, Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him as a guest. 39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his message. 40 By contrast, Martha was preoccupied with getting everything ready for their meal. So Martha came to him and said, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to prepare the table all by myself? Tell her to help me.” 41 The Lord answered, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things. 42 One thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the better part. It won’t be taken away from her.” Only a few of you will recognize the name Antoinette Brown Blackwell. And even if you’ve heard her name before, you might be asking – now who was that again? Antoinette was the first woman ordained as a minister in any Christian denomination in the United States – all the way back in 1853. She is among those we like to call our “UCC Firsts.”[1] In 1785, Lemuel Haynes was the first Black man in the US ordained by any Christian denomination. And the first openly gay man ordained in the US was Bill Johnson in 1972. Another thing we like to say in the UCC – “we’re not radical, we’re just early.” Antoinette was born in 1825, the 7th of 10 children. Deeply religious as a child, she became a full member of the Congregational Church in Henrietta, New York, at the ripe old age of 9. Instead of the things she was expected to do, she preferred reading and writing over cooking and sewing. In 1846 she attended Oberlin, a Congregational school and the first co-educational college in the US to grant women bachelor’s degrees. One day on a long walk, she shared with her sister-in-law, Lucy Stone, her plans to become a minister. Lucy listened and sympathized, but then told her, “You’ll never be allowed to stand in a pulpit or preach in a church, and you can certainly never be ordained.” Antoinette declared: “I am going to do it.” And so, after she completed Oberlin’s Ladies Literary Course, she asked to study theology. But the faculty refused to admit her and even her family objected. Nevertheless, she persisted and insisted. The college compromised and allowed her to attend lectures but would not let her graduate with a degree or grant her a license to preach. She didn’t care and went around preaching in any church that would have her anyway. And in 1853, the Congregational Church of South Butler ordained her. In addition, she was a prolific author and a tireless advocate for women’s rights. She held prominent positions in the women’s suffrage movement alongside her dear friends Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton and was the last one still alive when the 19th amendment was finally passed in 1920. She won the long fight to vote at age 95.[2] We celebrate her ordination in 1853 even though no one outside the church in South Butler and only one male minister in the area recognized it. That’s another story. A few other women were ordained in the 1880s but still, none were given a license to preach. Like Antoinette at Oberlin, Andover Seminary wouldn’t admit or grant theological degrees to women, but they did allow Emma Newman to sit in on classes as a guest. When she completed all the courses, they wouldn’t give her a degree but she was sent to western Kansas anyway because no men would take on churches like Dodge City with just 4 cowboys for members, that is until they all took another job and moved away. From there, she crossed the prairie in a horse and buggy and served a church in Dial, Kansas for six years – today a literal ghost town. In 1883, the church in Dial requested her ordination. The local association agreed unanimously, but the denomination back East resisted and said they wouldn’t provide funds for a church with a woman pastor. She withdrew the request for ordination and sought to be licensed instead and thus, Emma Newman was the first woman in history granted a license to preach.[3] Such were the indignities faced by countless women called to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, even though Jesus himself told Mary she had chosen the “better part.” But “better?” Really? As in, Jesus set Mary and Martha up as competitors and declared Mary the winner? “Martha, Martha, you’re too focused on other things.” Those words still sting women sitting in pews on Sunday mornings who identify their gifts with Martha. They rightly ask, “OK, so who’s going to feed everyone?” It might help to recognize that the story of Mary and Martha immediately follows a parable in which the crowd would be shocked to hear Jesus praise a Samaritan. To them, there’s no such thing as a good Samaritan – an unlikely recipient of praise. Well, in the very next verses, Jesus praises Mary for sitting at his feet, clearly in the posture of a disciple. Given women’s conventional roles, she was an unlikely disciple. And so to anyone who would say, there’s no such thing as a woman disciple, just like there’s no good Samaritan, Jesus affirms Mary’s better part. Does Jesus mean to chastise Martha? I believe Jesus’ intent was to affirm Mary’s gifts and draw his circle wider. Because let’s look at another story involving Martha, one that does not center her in a traditional role. Throughout the gospels, Jesus honored women by revealing or confirming his identity to them before men. For example, in the Gospel of John, it was the unlikely Samaritan woman at the well who had 5 husbands to whom Jesus first revealed he is the Messiah. In the same way, Jesus revealed to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life.” She replied, “I believe you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.”[4] That makes Martha the first person to make such a deeply theological and affirmative declaration of faith. You are the Christ. Clearly, she had been listening while she was baking bread. And isn’t that the way some of us prefer? Thinking about faith while doing some faith? Just for fun, there’s a little-known tradition of Mary and Martha from the Middle Ages. After the death and resurrection of Jesus, they set off to proclaim the good news and sailed on the Mediterranean Sea until they reached the South of France. Mary found retreat near Marseille in a cave 2,800 feet up the side of a mountain. She spent the next 30 years in prayer and contemplation, occasionally leaving her place of solitude to “pour the honey of the words flowing from her heart into the souls of listeners.” Sounds like Mary. Martha, on the other hand, spent her time “cleansing lepers, restoring persons who were paralytic, raising the dead, giving sight to the blind, strength to the feeble, and health to the sick.” Sounds like Martha. She ate only once a day, and then, only roots and the fruit of trees. At night she slept on a bed of branches with vines for her pillow. The most remarkable story of Martha is about how she once tamed a dragon – a terrible dragon of incredible length and extraordinary size whose mouth exhaled deadly smoke and whose eyes shot flames. It tore everything it encountered into pieces with its teeth and claws. The terrified people challenged Martha to prove the power of the Messiah she preached about. Undaunted, Martha walked right up to the den of the dragon and made the sign of the cross. It immediately calmed down. Then she tied her belt around the neck of the dragon and said, “Don’t hurt anyone ever again!” Afterward it followed her around like a massive dog on a leash.[5] Oh, and she also reportedly saved a village from a pirate attack. Martha – the theologian and chef with the gift of extraordinary hospitality and mythical tamer of dragons. And Mary – the disciple who sat at the feet of Jesus and listened to him speak. And while the other disciples remained clueless, she understood what Jesus was saying. Here’s an example: According to the Gospel of John, six days before Passover, Jesus came to Bethany for dinner at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Martha served, naturally, and Lazarus sat at the table. Mary came into the room carrying a bottle of very expensive perfume. When she opened it, the room was overwhelmed with fragrance. She anointed Jesus’ feet and wiped them dry with her hair. Judas Iscariot complained, “Why wasn’t it sold and the money given to the poor?” Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She brought this perfume to prepare my body for burial.”[6] He might as well have looked over at the disciples and added, “because she was listening and actually understood my teachings while the rest of you argued about who would be the greatest in my kingdom.” Mic drop. The truth is, of course, we need both Mary and Martha – both Active Faith and Faithful Action. If you’re a Mary, your active faith may be listening, then doing, and listening again. Or if you prefer Martha, faithful action is doing, then listening, then doing again. As Sarah Speed’s poem says, “Both, please.” As I’ve been saying, the impact we want to have upon our neighborhood and city and world begins with and is sustained by a deepening faith. We manifest our greatest impact like breathing in and out. For example,
We are grateful for such women as Antoinette Brown Blackwell and Emma Newman and countless other women who, like Mary, preached the gospel whether they had a “license” to do so or not. And the countless Martha’s in the pews who can set a nice table and after dinner, fight off pirates and tame a dragon. Let’s take a breath. And another. Now what’s your next faithful action? [1] https://www.ucc.org/ucc-firsts/ [2] https://antoinettebrownblackwell.org/herstory/about-antoinette-brown-blackwell/ [3] https://www.ucc.org/ucc_roots_april_2016/ [4] John 11: 27 [5] https://anunslife.org/blog/nun-talk/of-cooks-pirates-and-dragons-saint-martha [6] John 12: 1-11  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 9, 2025 “Demonstrate Mercy” Luke 10: 25-37 – Common English Bible A legal expert stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to gain eternal life?” 26 Jesus replied, “What is written in the Law? How do you interpret it?” 27 He responded, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.”[a] 28 Jesus said to him, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live.” 29 But the legal expert wanted to prove that he was right, so he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. He encountered thieves, who stripped him naked, beat him up, and left him near death. 31 Now it just so happened that a priest was also going down the same road. When he saw the injured man, he crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. 32 Likewise, a Levite came by that spot, saw the injured man, and crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. 33 A Samaritan, who was on a journey, came to where the man was. But when he saw him, he was moved with compassion. 34 The Samaritan went to him and bandaged his wounds, tending them with oil and wine. Then he placed the wounded man on his own donkey, took him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day, he took two full days’ worth of wages and gave them to the innkeeper. He said, ‘Take care of him, and when I return, I will pay you back for any additional costs.’ 36 What do you think? Which one of these three was a neighbor to the man who encountered thieves?” 37 Then the legal expert said, “The one who demonstrated mercy toward him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” “And who is my neighbor?” It was 1942. On February 18th, they were our neighbors. On February 19th, they weren’t – after the president signed an executive order to remove all Americans of Japanese descent from our neighborhoods. Frank Wada’s family lived in San Diego and learned about order 9066 from a notice on a lamppost near his home.[1] Originally, each family was told they could have a truck and fill it up with their belongings and not to worry. Three days later, his family was put on a train, not knowing their final destination, and told they could bring just one suitcase each. When he died in 2021 at 99 years of age, Frank still had his suitcase. He shared, “We were put on a train and ended up in the Santa Anita racetrack where we lived in the stables for 2 ½ months – and they were dirty!” Then another train took them just across the California border to Poston in the Sonora desert. With a population of almost 18,000, Poston was the third largest city in Arizona during the war. For more than 3 years, the Wada family lived in this concentration camp and endured extraordinary summer heat, coaxed vegetable gardens out of parched desert grounds and made a home out of the barest of quarters—with no running water, no privacy, and minimal healthcare. But years of anti-immigrant propaganda fueled by politicians and newspapers meant that a prejudiced population was primed to turn a blind eye. And so, on February 18th, they were our neighbors. On February 19th, they weren’t. Literally. The legal expert asked Jesus a question to test him. What must I do to gain eternal life? Jesus answered with a story about living an ethical life: “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.” Down, as in literally down. Did you know that Jericho is nearly a thousand feet below sea level? In 17 miles, the “road” from Jerusalem descends over 3,000 feet, passing through narrow canyons and treacherous cliffs – a perfect place for an ambush. Like what happened to that certain man who was robbed, beaten, stripped naked, and left near death. But he was not the first nor would he be the last to have such a frightful experience and the crowd listening to Jesus knew it. They knew exactly what he was talking about. Some of them or some of their family members may have been victims themselves. They could visualize – that’s me laying nearly dead alongside the road. Who would help me? And while lying there, just imagine watching through swollen eyes as a priest and a Levite both pass by on the other side of the road instead of stopping to help. However, given how dangerous this road was, they may have thought, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" And then came along a Samaritan who reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" Not what will happen to me, but “if I don’t stop, what will happen to him?” which is a question Martin Luther King, Jr. posed in a sermon the night before he was murdered in April 1968. People kept criticizing Dr. King for straying from the mission others imagined he should have. They didn’t like his critique of the Vietnam War. They didn’t like his advocacy for economic justice. Stick to the “race question.” He was in Memphis that night and told the parable of the Good Samaritan as a way to explain: why help them. The “them” in question were striking sanitation workers. The strike began in February in response to the gruesome deaths of Echol Cole and Robert Walker. You see, white residents objected to seeing garbagemen eat their lunch – picnicking, as those who objected called it. Workers were told to eat their lunch inside the truck cab, but that wasn’t large enough, so one rainy afternoon, two workers sat under the protection of the back of the truck to eat their sandwiches. Some kind of malfunction on those old broken-down trucks caused their crushing arms to come down and killed them both. The city offered their families a $500 “death benefit.”[2] It was their needless deaths on top of indignity after indignity that led hundreds to walk through Memphis carrying signs that declared, “I am a man.” All because residents didn’t want to have to see them eat. And who is my neighbor? In his Letter from Birmingham Jail, Dr. King said, we are all “caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be...” In other words, it made perfect sense to him that those striking sanitation workers were his neighbors and he couldn’t pass them by on the other side of the road. The lesson, or at least a lesson, of the parable of the Good Samaritan reminds me of the famous quote by Pastor Martin Niemöller: First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me. The context is 1930s Germany: At first, Pastor Niemöller didn’t object to what was happening in his country. Like many others, he was anti-Semitic, considering Jews to be “Christ-killers.” He didn’t object to anything until the government started interfering with the affairs of the church, even ordering a change to texts in the Bible that were called “Jewish ideology.”[3] That’s when he spoke out. But as punishment for the pastor’s public criticism, he was arrested several times and finally sent to a concentration camp with others perceived as “threats to society,” such as Jews, Roma and Sinti people, gay men, and other “asocials,” like alcoholics. Pastor Niemöller spent 8 years in concentration camps, including 4 years in the infamous Dachau. He was liberated by American troops in April 1945, but whereas most Germans wanted to just move on, Pastor Niemöller insisted people must confront what happened so it might never happen again. That’s when he first spoke his famous words and kept speaking until his death in 1984. Who is my neighbor? Scholar Amy-Jill Levine said the question should actually be: Who is not our neighbor.[4] The simplest lesson of this parable is that we should all demonstrate mercy to others. But it’s in their simplicity that the parables are often most complex with multiple layers of meaning. For example, given the prejudice and animosity felt by Jews toward Samaritans and Samaritans against Jews, the crowd who would have one minute identified with being left for dead alongside the road would have asked themselves the next minute, would I want someone like a Samaritan to stop?! The crowd would have been horrified by Jesus’ example. He asks them to answer, would I accept the demonstration of mercy by someone like a Samaritan? We see the Samaritan in such neighbors as Frank Wada who, by the way, served in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, a unit made up of Japanese Americans that was one of the most decorated in U.S. military history.[5] Or see the Samaritan in impoverished sanitation workers like Echol Cole and Robert Walker. Or 6 million Jews and other “threats to society” imprisoned and murdered in Nazi death camps during World War 2. But in every age, we must be attentive and ask, who are our neighbors, recognizing that history will repeat itself if we don’t learn from it. Who is not my neighbor? But I see another layer to the parable today. The 2nd great commandment of Jesus. The first – to love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. The second – to love your neighbor as yourself. Which, you do realize, means to love and show mercy to our neighbors as much as we love and show mercy to ourselves. Yeah, that second part we need today. On Ash Wednesday, Diana Butler Bass said she didn’t need a smudge of ash on her forehead to remind her of her mortality because we are standing in ash up to our knees. People are scared. Ukrainians feel abandoned. Federal employees feel battered. Trans people feel expunged. Europeans feel betrayed. Legal immigrants feel terrified. What are you feeling? So today, in addition to showing love to others, I think we need to give ourselves a little grace and demonstrate some mercy to ourselves. That’s part of our intention this Lent. We have sound healing tomorrow night. The following week, healing through art and color. Then healing touch. The history of and then a service of healing and anointing with oil. It’s not selfish to say we need some self-care. In fact, poet Audre Lorde said, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation.” But as Anna Ortega-Williams wrote in Essence magazine, what we really need in times of stress like these is community care.[6] She said, these circumstances aren’t new. As African Americans, we understand what it means to be attacked based on a mass, group level identity and we carry that in our blood. A part of our lineage and our roots is to understand that we’re part of a collective. We have always had a sense of ‘I am because we are.’ We take that term from Ubuntu. We know that individual ‘self-care’ actions have never been enough. And once we recognize that our individual harms and pain are interlocking…we also see that our healing is interlocking. Individualism has never saved us. Our wellness is multifold.” So first, whatever you are feeling, know that you’re not alone. And then, find community. I like that. The best self-care is community care. You know people who need that, so spread the word to those in your life who feel like that certain man who was robbed, beaten, stripped naked, and left near death, who lay there by the side of the road between Jerusalem and Jericho feeling abandoned and alone. You know better than anybody what it means to be part of a community of care. It feels good to know you belong somewhere, right? You know what? It feels even better when you can help someone else feel that way too. As Jesus said, “Go and do likewise.” It could be just the demonstration of mercy that one of your neighbors needs, especially in times like these. And couldn’t you use a little more mercy too? Words of the Song: Until Love is Spoken by Karen Marolli Grant us hope when all seems dire. Grant us faith to spark a fire, To fiercely burn, to drown the night, And set the world ablaze with light. And when we meet resistance and our call puts us in danger, Grant us patience and persistence to stand up for friend and stranger. Grant us courage to be kind, Grant us singleness of mind, To free the world from hate and fear, So only love is spoken here. And when our path of justice leads us to the dreadful fight, Grant us vigor and entrust us with the power to do what’s right. Grant us courage to be kind, Grant us singleness of mind, To free the world from hate and fear, So only love is spoken here. [1] https://www.history.com/news/442nd-regiment-combat-japanese-american-wwii-internment-camps [2] https://www.theroot.com/watch-the-tragic-deaths-of-robert-walker-and-echol-col-1822619781 [3] https://hmd.org.uk/resource/pastor-martin-niemoller-hmd-2021/ [4] Amy-Jill Levine and Ben Witherington III, The Gospel of Luke, New Cambridge Bible Commentary, 2018, page 290 [5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/442nd_Infantry_Regiment_(United_States) [6] https://www.essence.com/lifestyle/black-women-trump-presidency/  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] February 23, 2025 “Extreme Love” Luke 6: 27-37 – Common English Bible But I say to you who are willing to hear: Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. 28 Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If someone slaps you on the cheek, offer the other one as well. If someone takes your coat, don’t withhold your shirt either. 30 Give to everyone who asks and don’t demand your things back from those who take them. 31 Treat people in the same way that you want them to treat you. 32 “If you love those who love you, why should you be commended? Even sinners love those who love them. 33 If you do good to those who do good to you, why should you be commended? Even sinners do that. 34 If you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, why should you be commended? Even sinners lend to sinners expecting to be paid back in full. 35 Instead, love your enemies, do good, and lend expecting nothing in return. If you do, you will have a great reward. You will be acting the way children of the Most High act, for God is kind to ungrateful and wicked people. 36 Be compassionate just as your Father is compassionate. 37 “Don’t judge, and you won’t be judged. Don’t condemn, and you won’t be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Amelia Boynton grew up in Savannah, Georgia, in 1911. Her first introduction to politics was as a ten-year-old traveling with her mother by horse and buggy to knock on doors to give women information about voter registration. Her mother was passionately committed even though leaders of the suffragist movement were not equally committed to her right to vote. After Amelia graduated from Tuskegee University, she began working as a county extension agent, teaching Black farmers better farming methods, as well as lessons on financial, educational, and political strength as she and her husband travelled down dusty dirt roads deep in the rural backwoods of Dallas County, Alabama. Empowerment was their employment. In the 1950s, they worked to revitalize the Dallas County Voters League, trying to get more Black people on the voting rolls. In 1964, Amelia ran for Congress. Her campaign motto was “A vote-less people is a hopeless people.” She challenged a white incumbent, the first African American woman in Alabama to do so and earned 11% of the local vote, despite the fact that only 5% of Black people were registered. Progress was being made slowly, but white citizens were not going to stand for any of it and began a brutal crackdown. Amelia reached out to national leaders for help and, in January 1965, Selma became the epicenter of a national campaign. The story is too long and too complicated to fully tell here, but suffice it to say, those local efforts led to a confrontation known as Bloody Sunday, 60 years ago a week from Friday. In September, we are going to walk across the Edmund Pettus Bridge where Amelia marched in the front rows of a line of six hundred protesters, intending to march 50 miles to the state capitol in Montgomery. But Amelia recounted, as they crossed the bridge, “I saw in front of us a solid wall of state troopers, shoulder to shoulder. Gas masks covered their faces and they held billy-clubs, cattle prods, and guns.” When marchers refused to turn around, troopers advanced with a hateful precision that spared no one, like Amelia who was beaten unconscious and spent two weeks in the hospital. It was an event so horrifying, people around the country who didn’t think it was “their issue” spoke up and rose up to demand change. That afternoon, in a church overflowing with traumatized people, a man recounted, “I was out on the bridge today because I thought it was right, but while I was on the bridge, Sheriff Jim Clark came to my house and tear-gassed my eighty-year-old mother.” He added, “and the next time he comes to my house, I’m going to be ready.” Despite efforts by Martin Luther King, Jr. to get them to express love and forgiveness for their attackers, that afternoon “people in the church were not feeling love for Jim Clark or for any of the white authorities.” Malcolm X had spoken in the same church a few months earlier. “I don’t advocate violence, but if a man steps on my toes, I will step on his.” To follow the logic of today’s gospel reading, would Jesus advise Malcolm, “if a man deliberately steps on your toes, hold out your other foot?” Jesus has a lot of hard sayings and “turn the other cheek” is among the hardest. It sounds lovely until confronted by the cruel inhumanity of people like those state troopers acting on the orders of the governor. But actually, Jesus knew something about this as his people faced down the cruel inhumanity of Roman soldiers ordered to act by the Emperor. Jesus didn’t say, “just take it.” He taught them a form of creative non-violent resistance. If someone slaps you, their intention is likely not bodily injury but humiliation. Therefore, if you turn your other cheek, it means you refuse to be humiliated. The “victim” takes control and dares the offender to do it again. Imagine being in the crowd Jesus was speaking to, people used to being treated inhumanely, forced to “just take it.” What did they hear Jesus say? Was it, “be a doormat?” Or, Jesus said, if someone takes your coat. Perhaps it’s a robbery, but more likely, the crowds experience was of a soldier commandeering their property, which Rome permitted them to do. Poor people would often only have one coat and one undergarment, meaning, if you took off both your coat and your undergarment, you would be standing in front of them naked. But in their world, standing in front of someone naked doesn’t humiliate the naked person, it humiliates the person who sees. Again, it says to the perpetrator, I refuse to be a victim. Being a beggar must be embarrassing, an experience many in the crowd listening to Jesus knew intimately, yet it was simply a necessity for survival. He eliminates their humiliation by telling everyone to give to everyone who asks – without the expectation it should be paid back. The rich will no longer feel superior and the poor will no longer live in fear of hunger or crushing debt. Matthew has a parallel of this passage. Jesus said, “you have heard it said an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, but I say turn the other cheek, go a second mile, give your shirt as well as your cloak.” The second mile specifically refers to soldiers who were permitted to force peasants to carry their packs for a mile. But they were restricted to only one mile. If the peasant carried it further, it subjected the soldier to punishment – and therefore subverted the power. The crowd knew what he was talking about and it gave them hope and encouragement. Jesus wasn’t excusing abuse. Going an extra mile isn’t both flowers and chocolate on Valentine’s Day. According to biblical scholar Walter Wink, Jesus was teaching a creative method for living under Roman occupation. He articulates examples of living in a violent world without violence – which can be true in both Jesus’ time and today. All with the underlying command of love for humanity including even those who intend to do you harm. Love your enemy. Do good. Pray and bless. A man once confronted Dr. King. “Preachers ought to be honest and tell folks that if they live by the turn-the-other-cheek doctrine, the white supremacists will strip them and boil them in oil. Why don’t you be honest and admit that love is impractical today. Sure, Jesus lived it. It’s the ultimate ideal. But there are times when a person must stand up and fight fire with fire.” King countered that love is not weak, “it is not the pious injunction of a Utopian dreamer but a practical necessity for the survival of civilization. To return hate for hate does nothing but intensify the existence of evil in the universe. The aftermath of the “fight fire with fire” is bitterness and chaos.” Or as Gandhi said, “an eye for an eye for an eye just leaves everyone blind.” But, King said, “the aftermath of love is reconciliation and the creation of the beloved community. Physical force can repress, restrain, coerce, destroy, but it cannot create and organize anything permanent; only love can do that.” Julio Diaz walked off the train one night onto a deserted platform when a teenage boy pulled out a knife and demanded money. Diaz handed him his wallet. As the boy began to walk away, Diaz called out, “Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you’re going to be out here all-night robbing people, you’re gonna get cold. Here, take my coat to keep warm.” The boy looked at him like he was crazy and asked, “Why are you doing this?” “Well, if you’re willing to risk going to jail for a few dollars, you must really need the money. All I was going to do with it was get some dinner. Hey, won’t don’t you join me?” They walked to a diner and sat in a booth. The manager came by to say hi. The dishwashers walked past and called him by name. Waiters stopped to chat like they were friends. The boy asked, “Do you own this place?” “No, I just try to treat everyone the way I’d like to be treated. Weren’t you taught to do that too?” “Yeah, but I didn’t think anyone actually did it.” When the check came, Diaz said, “I don’t have any money, so I guess you’re going to have to pay. But if you give me my wallet, I’ll gladly treat you.” The teen didn’t even think about it and handed over the wallet. Diaz gave him $20. “I hope this helps you. Can I have the knife too?” The boy just handed it over. Jesus consistently taught that the reversal of fortune does not come from violence but through love – even, perhaps especially, love for those doing it. Love your enemies. In this specific passage, Jesus is saying, “let’s figure it out.” Let’s figure out how to undermine violence without violence using love. Extreme love. Extreme love is creative. Extreme love is subversive. Extreme love seeks out ways to reverse the harm and humiliation intended by oppressors. To turn the other cheek isn’t passive or weak but to subvert violence with creativity and persistence. That’s what we need today. For example,
No, the extreme love of Jesus will not, cannot, just watch it happen. I hate to think it will take another Bloody Sunday for people who think “that’s not my issue” to speak up and rise up to demand something as basic and fundamental as human rights, equality under the law. Thank God thousands of Amelia Boynton’s have already demonstrated how. But what, really, can we do? Well, you know that joy is subversive. When the weight and chaos of the news threatens us to disengage, YouTube videos of our choir, never miss a Sunday, get involved to add some subversive joy to the world. And don’t forget to tell others. Nothing upsets an authoritarian more than people laughing. You know that rest is resistance. Turn off the TV and go to bed. Choose carefully your sources for news. If you are not already reading historian Heather Cox Richardson’s summation every morning, make it a routine you start today. We can each call, write, nag, show up. Be a pest for justice. There’s more. But never forget to love your enemies. And yes, in the short term, hopes for justice and dreams of equality may get buried. If so, let them be seeds that we tend to, feeding with our faith, watering with our tears, that these seeds may grow and get stronger in the dark, ready to rise and bloom and flower into a beautiful, diverse, equitable, and inclusive world for everyone. Jesus, too, was crucified, dead and buried, all for the sake of a world in which violence has been reversed and enemies will one day become friends. That’s what extreme love does. What are you going to do?  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] February 9, 2025 “Deeper Christianity” Luke 5: 1-11 – Common English Bible One day Jesus was standing beside Lake Gennesaret when the crowd pressed in around him to hear God’s word. 2 Jesus saw two boats sitting by the lake. The fishermen had gone ashore and were washing their nets. 3 Jesus boarded one of the boats, the one that belonged to Simon, then asked him to row out a little distance from the shore. Jesus sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. 4 When he finished speaking to the crowds, he said to Simon, “Row out farther, into the deep water, and drop your nets for a catch.” 5 Simon replied, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing. But because you say so, I’ll drop the nets.” 6 So they dropped the nets and their catch was so huge that their nets were splitting. 7 They signaled for their partners in the other boat to come and help them. They filled both boats so full that they were about to sink. 8 When Simon Peter saw the catch, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Leave me, Lord, for I’m a sinner!” 9 Peter and those with him were overcome with amazement because of the number of fish they caught. 10 James and John, Zebedee’s sons, were Simon’s partners and they were amazed too. Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid. From now on, you will be fishing for people.” 11 As soon as they brought the boats to the shore, they left everything and followed Jesus. Even though I had been baptized, confirmed, and raised in the church, I became a Christian in 1987. Even though at 7 years old, I felt my heart strangely warmed and gave my life to Jesus as my Lord and Savior and at age 16 accepted God’s call upon my life to become a pastor… In fact, in 1987, I was already a pastor, 21-years old, for two congregations in rural South Dakota, which sounds odd, right, to say that I became a Christian while serving as a pastor and preparing to attend seminary that fall? Obviously, there’s a story behind it. In 1987, I went with a group of United Methodist college students from across South Dakota on a mission trip to Haiti. We piled in the back of a brightly painted pickup truck that hugged precipitous cliffs as we climbed steep mountainsides, passing women and children carrying huge baskets on their heads. We passed through rivers without bridges. Hours later, we drove on a foot path that ended at a clearing in the woods where there was a small cinder block Methodist church surrounded by huts made of clay and covered with palm branch roofs. The only other permanent building was a new cinder block school that a previous Methodist mission team had built. We were there to add a kitchen. Unfortunately, it didn’t get built. The building supplies, ordered well in advance, didn’t arrive until the day before we left. For nearly two weeks we asked anxiously, when will the supplies arrive? They always laughed and said, “When God provides.” We were there to do God’s work, to be God’s hands. Didn’t God want us to get our work done? It was hard to “waste” our time, which of course was not wasted. Instead we spent our time playing with kids, learning their games, teaching them our games like Red Rover. The kids were fascinated by my increasingly sunburned skin. They discovered that if you pressed hard enough on my pink skin, it momentarily turned white. And eventually black and blue. Thanks to an interpreter, during the day we spent a lot of time listening to people tell their stories and at night we joined them at the church full of people singing joyously, praising God completely out of proportion to the evidence of blessing we saw with American eyes. But first, today’s gospel lesson is very familiar – the calling of Jesus’ first disciples. You may not realize that Luke’s version of this familiar story is actually quite different from Matthew and Mark. There, Jesus simply walked by Peter and Andrew, and then James and John, and said, “Come follow me.” And they did. Only Luke adds the drama of fishing all night with nothing to show for it and then a miraculous catch, after which, Luke explained, then they dropped everything to follow Jesus. Oddly, John tells the same story of a miraculous catch – but it happens after his resurrection, not as the calling of his first disciples. Anyway, there’s one particular line only in Luke’s story that caught my attention. Jesus said to Simon, “Row out farther, into the deep water, and then drop your nets for a catch.” They did and the catch was overwhelming. But not until after they rowed out, into the deep water. Something about that line spoke to me. And so, my conversion to Christianity. It didn’t happen in a flash of guilt or grief. There was no crying at an altar at which I stood convicted of my sin. No date and time at which the heavens opened and I finally saw the light. Rather, I was slowly, gradually, converted to Christianity by the stories that the adults told us of their lives, many stories in which they insisted that when we returned to the United States, we should tell people in our government to help make their lives better. You see, one story after another involved the effects of mangled US foreign policy and how they wanted justice from our government. I listened, I sympathized, but I was just there to do good, my duty, my Christian duty. What they were asking for was political and politics wasn’t my duty. Helping them was – the way I thought they should be helped. I hate to admit that, in my early 20s, I agreed with the critics of Martin Luther King. Stick to the proper concerns of a Christian minister. Take care of souls. Although I did agree, Jesus commanded us to also feed people’s bodies. But in the same vein of criticism, Brazilian archbishop Dom Helder Camera is famously quoted: When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor, they call me a communist. Why indeed are Haitians so poor? Here’s a little Black History Month lesson. Haiti was the first independent Black republic in the Western Hemisphere– a remarkable achievement in 1804 less than 20 years after the end of the American Revolutionary War. Haitian independence started with a slave rebellion that lasted 12 years until they defeated the forces of none other than Napoleon. France had reaped enormous wealth by “importing” unprecedented numbers of Africans to grow sugar and coffee. Incredible wealth poured out from the island. Upon Napoleon’s defeat, France had the nerve to demand reparations. Imagine the audacity, the absurdity of a country that had grown rich off enslaving people demanding those people pay for their freedom. And such an enormous amount of money, it took 143 years to pay it off. The debt was crushing. In 1900, 80% of Haiti’s national budget was spent still paying those reparations.[1] Which meant, they had virtually no money to spend on infrastructure such as roads and schools or any other human development. In 1915, the US used dubious rationale to begin an occupation of Haiti that lasted 20 years. Then in the 1950s, concerned that communism might come to the island, the US began propping up corrupt leaders including the infamous Duvalier’s – Papa Doc and Baby Doc.[2] Our team of Methodist college students arrived in 1987, the year after Baby Doc was overthrown – and took nearly all the country’s wealth with him. But it started with being “the only country in which ex-slaves themselves were expected to pay a foreign government for their own liberty.” After all that these villagers had been through, they were right to expect more of us. When else would they have an opportunity to speak to Americans who have direct connections to their government in Washington, DC? Of course, we all thought, we don’t have that kind of access! But then realized, oh my goodness, we do. With elections and representative democracy. But I went to Haiti to do good. That’s enough, isn’t it? And then, darn it, Jesus said, now “row out farther, into deeper water.” Today, the time to choose whether to stay in the shallows or go toward the deeper waters has now come for all of us. Time that the Christian faith is either relevant to the world or not. Some Christian groups have been granted extraordinary access to the new administration while others have been on the receiving end of increasing and unprecedented attacks. For all the talk of religious liberty, Diana Butler Bass describes watching “selective religious freedom” play out. [3] For example, with absolutely no evidence or merit, Elon Musk has accused Lutherans of fraud (Lutherans, of all people), “money-laundering” to be exact, and said he will “shut down illegal payments” for their work running nursing homes, foster care, food programs and more.[4] “Examine them all and shut them down,” labeling Lutherans of running a “snake oil organization.” Whether or not he actually does, creating the fear of it has worked. Episcopal Migration Ministry, among others, has let go of all their employees. Priests racially profiled. Bishops denounced by members of Congress. Quakers suing, citing hindrances to their religious liberty.[5] The evangelical organization World Vision carries out a significant number of projects for USAID, all at risk. Haitian food programs among those eliminated, or maybe they won’t be. Last week, the Vice President insulted the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops: “look in the mirror a little bit and recognize that when [you] receive over $100 million to help resettle illegal immigrants (his words, not the truth), are [you] worried about humanitarian concerns? Or are [you] actually worried about your] bottom line?”[6] Mormons issued a rare public statement about the mass deportations underway, remembering the last time children were separated from their families, saying, “We are especially concerned about keeping families together.”[7] In response to all these increasing and unprecedented attacks, the head of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the ELCA, Bishop Elizabeth Eaton recounted the story of Saint Lawrence, a deacon in Ancient Rome. The Roman emperor demanded the Christian church turn over its riches, but instead, Lawrence sold all the church’s possessions and gave the money to the poor. When the emperor confronted him and demanded his money, Lawrence pointed to the “hungry, the poor, the naked, the stranger in the land, the most vulnerable” and declared: “These are the treasures of the Church.” For that, Saint Lawrence was executed. Bishop Eaton concluded, “Be of good courage, Church, and let us persevere.” That’s deep. I wish we weren’t here. I wish this was all hyperbole. I wish I wasn’t talking about this again, but Christian friends, in response, Jesus is calling to us: Row out a little farther, into the deep water, and recognize:
As the hymn says, now is the time for wisdom and courage for the facing of this hour: God of grace and God of glory, from the evils that surround us and assail the Savior’s ways, from the fears that long have bound us, free our hearts for faith and praise. God of grace and God of glory, save us weak resignation to the evils we deplore; let the search for your salvation be our glory forevermore. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of this hour. [1] “Haiti: The Land Where Children Eat Mud,” The Sunday Times of London, May 17, 2009 [2] https://www.pope.af.mil/News/Pope-News/Article/242223/a-brief-history-of-us-involvement-in-haiti/ [3] https://interfaithalliance.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/Memo_-Trump-Admin-Attacks-on-Faith-Communities.pdf?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email [4] https://religionnews.com/2025/02/03/musk-spotlights-federal-funds-for-lutheran-social-services-calls-them-illegal-payments/ [5] https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/national-security/quaker-groups-file-suit-end-policy-restricting-ice-arrests-houses-wors-rcna189471 [6] https://www.cbsnews.com/news/jd-vance-interview-face-the-nation-catholic-bishops-ice-order/ [7] https://newsroom.churchofjesuschrist.org/article/church-reaffirms-immigration-principles-love-law-family-unity [8] Adapted from email by Diana Butler Bass, February 6, 2025 |
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