 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?
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 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  Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] February 6, 2025 “Immigrants and Strangers in the World” 1st Peter 2: 9-10 – Common English Bible But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people who are God’s own possession. You have become this people so that you may speak of the wonderful acts of the one who called you out of darkness into his amazing light. 10 Once you weren’t a people, but now you are God’s people. Once you hadn’t received mercy, but now you have received mercy. Upon receiving Barbara’s, Babs, kind invitation to preach at her ordination, I asked what scripture text she wanted me to use. She came back with four options and I chose this one from 1st Peter that turned out to be very timely for the chaotic world we have just been thrust into and into which you will be ordained. The first letter of Peter, a letter someone wrote in Peter’s name that circulated among Christian communities in Asia Minor – today’s country of Turkey. Unlike many letters in the New Testament that dealt with conflict within the church, these Christ-followers were in conflict with their neighbors. They were a minority, frequently misunderstood, often ostracized and sometimes persecuted and even attacked. Why? Christians were seen as a threat to the established social order. Their communities acted counter to traditional society by considering women and slaves as equals in the church. If you can’t imagine how equality could be so upsetting, scroll through your newsfeed. You see, the head of household determined what god or gods would be worshiped and told the rest of them. But in some households, women and slaves worshiped a “foreign” god. Increasingly, this was worrisome, subversive – a threat to the very foundations of the established social order. Therefore, these Christians lived in an environment of suspicion and hostility toward them. What would calm the anxiety of their neighbors and especially the authorities? Unfortunately, the antidote reverberates throughout history and even today. Howard Thurman is often considered the grandfather of the civil rights movement. Back when he was a boy in 1900, his grandmother asked him every day to read passages from the Bible. She had been enslaved and wasn’t permitted to learn how to read, though she knew much of the Bible by heart. But there were certain parts of the New Testament she wouldn’t let him read. As a girl, she had heard enough of the passages read by preachers provided by the master. Over and over she heard, “the Bible says, slaves be obedient to your master.” The stories told from the Bible at night when the master wasn’t listening were about the Hebrew slaves fleeing Egypt, of freedom in the promised land. Or the prophets who sought to tie the practice of religion with the care of the most vulnerable. Or Jesus. Nothing said by Jesus sounded anything like slaves being obedient. So, that antidote. The advice. First Peter, chapter 2, verse 18 says: “Slave, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but those who are harsh” and it goes on to talk of “enduring through beatings.” First Peter continues, and “in the same way, wives accept the authority of your husbands…” It reads, “For example, Sarah accepted Abraham’s authority when she called him master. You have become her children when you do good and don’t respond to threats with fear.” In the same way as slaves. What in the name of the Ever-Living God!? This letter to the frequently misunderstood, often ostracized and sometimes persecuted and even attacked Christians of Asia Minor, this author believed his advice would calm the fears of their neighbors and authorities, to which he added this triplet: “Honor the emperor.” Obey. Basically, don’t cause trouble. Don’t even appear to be trouble. And so, “Dear friends, since you are immigrants and strangers in the world…Live honorably among the unbelievers. Today, they defame you, as if you were doing evil. But in the day when God visits to judge, they will glorify God, because they have observed your honorable deeds.” These passages have excused evil for centuries by its twisted appeal to the Bible, but I at least understand what this letter is trying to do. And how it provides a context for today’s reading: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people who are God’s own possession. Once you weren’t a people, but now you are God’s people.” I understand why and to whom this letter was written: Christians were seen as a threat to the established social order. But, of course, we live in such different times. How is this even relevant? Christians aren’t a threat to the social order. Or are we? Should we be? So, on the one hand, Christians are behind the efforts to tear down, destroy, and overturn the very foundations of a democratic society based on equal civil rights – a social order that has been fought for by countless people, led by churches and pastors who sacrificed their very lives. The demonizing talk of DEI is just cover for the more expansive goal of a pre-civil rights world where women submitted to men, “graciously” in the words of the Southern Baptists, where people of color knew their place at the back of the bus, disabled people stayed at home, queer people didn’t exist, and immigrants came from Norway. On the other hand, Christians should be a threat to such a social order. But perhaps in light of First Peter, in non-threatening ways – or if not non-threatening, then non-violent ways because apparently just using the word “mercy” is threatening. Many of us are still talking about the bravery of the Right Reverend Mariann Budde, speaking truth to power, while other Christians are still denouncing her and the very concept of mercy as woke, leftist, radical, demonic, a “feminist cancer” invading the church, and a reason why “women should not be allowed to speak in church services,”[1] to quote a prominent evangelical pastor who wrote a book called The Sin of Empathy. When preaching evokes this kind of response, you know you’re preaching the gospel – the gospel of Jesus Christ who proclaimed, “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” And “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. And “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” Not hungering for power and thirsting for domination or craving control and addicted to privilege. As Mary the Mother of Jesus said, they shall be “toppled from their thrones” and humble lifted high. The gospel is a powerful thing when we dare proclaim it. I have sympathy for the persecuted Christians of Asia Minor, trying to survive in an environment of hostility and suspicion. Bless them for persevering. Bless them for their attempts to practice equality even though it brought them unwanted attention. They got the message first delivered to the Galatians – You are no longer Jew or Greek, no longer slave or free, no longer male and female for you are all one in Christ. You are all one in Christ. They got the message and faced the consequences in a world where they had no power, except for their witness. They didn’t have power, but we do. And Barbara you are now entering the ranks of people with power – ordained clergy. You may laugh, but for good or ill, whether we want it or not, with ordination we are granted a moral power. Not a power to be used for ourselves. Not an excuse for power over others. Yes, power can be dangerous, but to abdicate the use of it for people who are marginalized and vulnerable is immoral. Just like being silent today is to allow the takeover of Christianity by Christian Nationalists in the service of straight, white, Christian men, hungering for their own power and thirsting for domination, craving control and addicted to privilege. But you are being ordained into the legacy of our ancestors in the United Church of Christ:
We have plenty of paternalistic sins to pay for, but the direction of our legacy is clear to follow. We have been woke for as long as the UCC has existed, which, by the way is a term dating back to the early 1900s that means someone is informed, educated and conscious of social injustice and racial inequality. Somehow that’s supposed to make us feel like outsiders right now, those immigrants and strangers spoken of in First Peter. And maybe that’s true as we stand and watch the country reverse the very things about which we have long stood. But like them, be comforted. “Dear friends, since you are immigrants and strangers in the world…Live honorably among the unbelievers.” Here’s the best line in the whole letter. Chapter 3, verse 14: “Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated.” Those who persecuted them for their practices were guided by fear. Do not be intimidated by them. Instead, chapter 5, verse 7: “Cast your anxiety on God.” “Today, they defame you, as if you were doing evil (like calling mercy a feminist cancer). But in the day when God visits to judge they will glorify God, because they have observed your honorable deeds.” That may be too much to imagine right now, but history will ultimately ask – what did you do? May you say, today I took my place among the UCC clergy and “I used my power.” May we all do so. [1] https://wordandway.org/2025/01/30/empathy-for-immigrants-sounds-like-christianity-101-heres-why-some-say-its-a-sin/ |
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