A mashup of the Beatitudes and the enduring legacy of one man.

On February 21, 1940, on the outskirts of Troy Alabama, a baby Black boy was born. The third of ten children, his parents were sharecroppers, picking cotton, trying to make a living wage. Given how little money cotton picking brings, it was a family affair: each of the ten children had to do this backbreaking work.

The boy recalls he didn’t like doing it one bit. He was determined to get out of that field. Determined to get out of that hot sun.

Dreaming of better days, the boy wanted to be a minister when he grew up. To practice his future craft often he preached to the largest audience he could find. It was a crowd of 300… chickens. He recalled some chickens bowed their heads. Others would shake at his words. But he never could quite get them to say Amen 😊.

Growing up in the deeply segregated rural South, by the time he was six, the boy had only seen two white people in his life. This is, perhaps, the opposite of parts of rural Iowa that are nearby.

And when he did go into town, and encountered people with pigment lighter than his own, the experiences were, to put it mildly, less than ideal.

The boy had a great schoolteacher, who often told him, “read, my child, read!” And he did, devouring every book he could. Yet as a teenager, when he and his siblings went to the public library and asked for library cards they were told the library was for whites and not coloreds. They walked home empty handed that day.

As a teenager going into town he noticed signs that told him where he could and could not eat, drink, or sit, with labels like –

– White men only
– White women only
– No coloreds allowed

…he asked his parents what do those signs mean? They told him, “Boy, that’s the way it is. Don’t get in the way. Don’t get in trouble.”

At 17 the now young man met Rosa Parks, who helped organize the Montgomery Alabama bus boycott. A year later he met the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., who encouraged him to get more involved in a movement growing by the day.

Not wanting to pick cotton, a voracious reader, wanting to become a preacher, and possessing the audacity to desire the same civil rights other Americans had one thing was clear: something must give.

The young man was going to get in trouble. Of this there was no doubt. But what kind of trouble would it be?

Scripture
Matthew’s beatitudes that begin the Sermon on the Mount is one of the most well-known passages in all of scripture.  Data from BibleGateway.com suggests that, based on their search history, it is the 7th most popular scripture searched on their site.

A benefit of passages this well known is they often end up being referenced in pop culture. Consider these famous lines from the 1979 Monty Python movie Life of Brian:

Person 1: What did he say?
Person 2: I think it was Blessed are the cheesemakers.
Person 1: What’s so special about the cheesemakers?
Person 2: Well, obviously, this is not meant to be taken literally. It refers to any manufactures of dairy products.

The version of the Beatitudes you heard earlier is from The Message. More paraphrase than translation, it was written to make the biblical text relevant to our times.

Most Beatitudes translations begin with blessed are the, and share what groups are blessed and with what.  Blessed are –
– the poor,
– the meek,
– the hungry,
– the thirsty,
– the merciful,
– the persecuted,
– the peacemakers.

The Message takes a slightly different angle, beginning with you’re blessed when, then outlining real-life situations that apply.

You’re blessed when –
– You’re at the end of your rope,
– You feel you’ve lost what is most dear,
– You show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight,
– You care.

We could do a 10-week sermon series on each of the beatitudes. One per week. There is plenty that could be said about them. Or we could do a really long sermon that covers each in depth right now – anyone want to hear me preach for 2 hours? No? 😊.

Instead I’d like to share more about that Black boy born in Troy Alabama in 1940. As his story unfolds – and this is a mashup of history and scripture – listen for the phrases blessed are the and you’re blessed when. The blessings shared throughout are pulled straight from Matthew 5, and suggests what living a life based on the Beatitudes just might be about.

Story
The path for the young Black man with no interest in picking cotton began to unfold. He graduated from seminary, was ordained a Baptist minister, started in on a bachelor’s in religion and philosophy. It is then, as a student, when his troubles truly began.

Unable to accept the status quo of the South at the time he organized sit-ins at segregated lunch counters in Nashville. He also attended workshops that taught him the discipline and philosophy of nonviolence. He then incorporated these non-violence tools into pretty much all he did.

During the turbulent times of the 1960s the young man said it was important to engage in good trouble, necessary trouble in order to achieve change. He held to this credo for the rest of his life.

Anyone know who we’re talking about here? John Lewis. Yes, of course. In 1961 Lewis became one of the original 13 Freedom Riders, a group of seven blacks and six whites who rode on interstate buses from Washington DC to New Orleans, challenging the unconstitutional, segregated seating of the south.

While the Freedom Riders practiced peaceful resistance, the angry mobs they often encountered did not.

Lewis was beaten and arrested multiple times on these rides. Reflecting back on the experience, he recalls that “we were determined not to let any act of violence keep us from our goal. Our lives could be threatened, but we had made up our minds not to turn back.”

Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

One of the “Big Six” leaders who organized the March on Washington in 1963, Lewis spoke right before Martin Luther King Jr. gave his I Have a Dream speech. In his speech Lewis expressed frustration that the 1963 Civil Rights Bill didn’t do enough to protect African Americans from police brutality.

Yesterday I watched video released late Friday of Tyre Nichols, the 29-year-old Black man who was beaten, clubbed, pepper sprayed and tasered by five Memphis police officers. It all happened during what, by all accounts, looked to be a routine traffic stop. Tyre died from the wounds these officers inflicted three days later; the officers were charged with murder earlier this week. The problem Lewis named in 1963 still haunts us today.

In this we confess, when it comes to protections from police brutality there is more work to be done.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

On March 7, 1965 Lewis led over 600 marchers across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma Alabama, in support of voter registration efforts for Blacks. At the end of the bridge they were met by Alabama State Troopers, who ordered them to disperse. They did not disperse. Instead they stopped to pray. And why not? Lewis was a pastor after all.

State troopers then discharged tear gas and charged at the demonstrators, beating them with nightsticks. On a day that would become known as Bloody Sunday Lewis’s skull was fractured. He bore scars on his head from the incident for the rest of his life.

Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven.

In his 33 years serving in the US House of Representative for Georgia’s 5th district Lewis led through the lens of the Beatitudes constantly, blessing so many along the way.

He co-sponsored bills to help put poor people to work, provide job training and daycare, fair housing, and a fair minimum wage.

Blessed are the poor, in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

He co-sponsored the 1993 Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act, asking at the time, “how long do we have to wait before we decide to ban assault weapons? He also co-sponsored the 2013 Violence Against Women Act, voted against the death penalty as a matter of conscience, and voted against the use of military force in Iraq too.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

And in 2010 he voted to repeal the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell act, with the repeal granting protections for the LGBTQ+ community in the military. “We should have put an end to Don’t Ask Don’t Tell long ago,” he said at the time.

You’re blessed when you care. At that moment you find yourselves cared for.

John Lewis died in 2020, after spending eight decades advocating for countless millions of marginalized children of God. By then he had been arrested 40 times in the 1960s, and another 5 times as a member of Congress. He had been punched, kicked, teargassed, and clubbed with nightsticks frequently. His life had been threatened hundreds, if not thousands of times. And yet he’d continued to serve and suffer harm, all with the love of Christ.

The last two verses of the Beatitudes from the Message conclude with this:

Count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.

This kind of trouble.
This kind of good trouble.
This kind of necessary trouble.

This, my friends, embodies what it is to follow Christ. The Way of Christ asks us to join in God’s mission for the world, remaking life here to better mirror heaven.

As Black History month begins let us celebrate the advances in equality that have been made. Let us confess that, when it comes to issues of systemic injustice and systemic racism, there is more to be done to live that out well. And let us commit to getting into good trouble, necessary trouble, in Christ’s name, blessing others who desperately need it, as we go.  Amen.

A Christmas Eve message based on Luke 2:1-14.

The commute Mary and Joseph made that first Christmas would not be fun. Ninety miles from home, even on donkey, the trip by land would take five days, four at best.

Mary’s pregnancy was already far along. These days she might have been put on bedrest. Instead the pair traveled, by government decree, to a land not their own.

Away from their homeland, away from friends, family, the tribe of people they knew and loved the couple had a problem.

Labor pangs had begun. The unwed, soon-to-be mother of God was about to give birth. Now what? With so many out-of-towners around to be counted their options were limited. There was –

No room at the inn.
No guest room from a friend.
No AirBnB room for rent.

Here, stay with the animals, a local resident offered. Make yourself at home.

It’s the best we can do.

The space offered limited shelter from the elements. At least there was that. But it wasn’t intended for humans to sleep. And it certainly wasn’t ideal for a mother giving birth.

Weary from travel, needing to make the most of the situation, the pair settled in, arranging the few belongings they had on the floor. The accommodations would not be comfortable.

It’s the best they could do.

And it was there, amid humble beginnings, where –

Mary gave birth,
wrapped the baby in cloth,
and laid him in a manger.

Shepherds
Nearby there were shepherds. They too slept on the ground, under the stars, making the best of a difficult situation. They too were away from home, keeping watch over flocks by night. Part of the marginalized peasant class, oppression and exploitation for the shepherds was never too far away. The Roman government targeted their kind. Perhaps one day they would be next.

And then, before their very eyes, what was that? An angel! What on earth could this mean? They couldn’t help but feel anxious.

Fear not, I bring you good news of great joy, the angel explained. Great joy for all the people! The angel told them of the birth of a Savior, not too far away.

Look for –

the child,
wrapped in cloth,
lying in a manger.

The heavens then opened up, and amidst the stars that shown bright came a heavenly host proclaiming –

Glory to God in the highest!
Peace on earth for those God favors!

The shepherds were dumbfounded. Great joy for all? Could that include them? Peace on earth? Could that be for them too? They, they lowest of the low, the homeless, the poor, the despised? They had a Savior?

And they got to hear this good news first?

Before the kings and queens and soldiers and merchants?

Could it be true?

Excitedly they went in search of salvation. They found it, in the form of a baby, wrapped in cloth, lying in a manger. Overcome with joy they then went and shared this good news with everyone. It is good news for all the people. Including people that come from lowly, humble beginnings. People just like them.

Nativity
Five days ago, after a long day here preparing for this very moment, I left the church office and headed to my car. As I opened the outside door a familiar voice belted out “Good evening!” With darkness already descended my eyes slowly adjusted. I looked to find from where the greeting had come.

There, in the corner of our patio I spotted a homeless man, settling down for the night. He sat mere feet from our large nativity.

Walking over to return the greeting I now recognized him. The two of us had chatted a few times in the past couple weeks as I left the office at night.

Previously I’d initiated conversation.
This time he spoke first.

“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he said.

What? I mentally scrambled to remember our prior conversations. In each I’d –

Said hello,
Asked how he was doing,
Hoped he could stay warm,
And told him he was welcome to stay.

Up to then we’d spoken for perhaps a minute, maybe two. That was it.

Thank you for everything you’ve done?!? What?

His words echoed in my head.
In any real sense I had done nothing.

Of course, I responded. It’s the least we can do.

We then got to talking of how he was doing. He proudly showed me a recently acquired sleeping bag that helps him stay warm. He shared that he likes being partially out of the elements like this. Our patio provides protection, at least partially, from wind, rain and snow.

“This place makes me feel safe,” the man said. “It’s why I keep coming back.”

“Tho I’m not sleeping well lately,” he continued. “I might try the shelter tomorrow night.”

I nodded. “Do you know about the lunch program we host five day a week here, The Connection Café?” This was news to him, good news, and he was excited about it. “I get hungry during the day a lot. I’ll definitely check it out.”

The man then shared about a surgery he had over the summer, and his struggles with anxiety. I lamented Iowa does so poorly providing mental health resources.

Our Iowa has one of the lowest rates of psychiatrists available in the nation; we rank 47th out of 50.

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as Maryland,” he replied. By chance I grew up in Maryland; more connection had been made. The two of us then compared notes on where we’d lived in the Old Line State, where the best crab cakes could be found.

Considering we were talking outdoors, in freezing temperatures, still a few feet from a church nativity set complete with wooden shepherds, animals, Mary, Joseph, Jesus and a manger the moment felt surprisingly light.

And yet soon this man would unroll a sleeping bag and place it on a cold, hard surface. Then, once the bag was arranged just so he would climb into it and lay down his head. All in the hopes of getting some sleep. To be sure the space isn’t designed for how it is being used.

But for this man,
in this moment,
it is the best he could do.

Our conversation winding down I –

wished him well,
headed to my car,
put the key in the ignition,
turned the heater on high,
and headed home.

Crux
It’s the least we can do.

As I drove away the words turned over in my head –

again, and
again, and
again.

It’s the least we can do.

The man seemed so grateful. Yet he had so little. And I had done practically nothing. Our conversation created a cognitive dissonance within that I can’t quite shake.

It’s the least we can do.

And then hit me. I actually could have done less. I could have shooed the man away. I could have told him he wasn’t welcome here. I could have called the police, ensuring our sacred spaces stayed sanitized.

Because sometimes, in polite society, let’s be honest: it can be hard to look human need directly in the eye.

Reflecting on the man graciously sleeping, feet from our nativity here at St. John’s, I couldn’t help but wonder: how many other –

public places,
private properties,
church doorsteps –

had he already been swept away from?

It’s the least we can do.

Is it? Has our shared commitment to one another really sunk so low?

Arriving home that night my wife could tell something was up. She always can. Before going to bed she finally cajoled me into talking. When sharing the story with her, a few hours after the experience, I broke down and wept.

Impact
Most every night between two and six people spend the night here with us outdoors. Some prefer to sleep along the 6th Avenue side; the heating vents there offer warmth. Others, like the man I spoke with, prefer our patio as it protects from wind, rain, snow.

They are welcome guests. They are a reminder that, when it comes to bringing the kingdom of God here on earth there is more to be done.

In honor of our outdoor friends this year a gift box has been attached to the patio nativity set. The box has a small opening for donations. As the magi brought gifts to honor the newborn king so can you.

Between Christmas Eve and Epiphany on January 6, you are invited to drop off your coins, cash, checks, or gold. Frankincense and myrrh would be a-ok too 😊

100% of donations placed in the nativity set box will be given to Central Iowa Shelter & Services. CISS is a partner organization who offers shelter, meals, and resourcing for those who far too often go without. The box is locked, and will be emptied daily, ensuring your gifts get to those who need it most.

Close
Many of us have very good reason to celebrate the birth of our Lord. We do it with prayers, songs, gifts, shared meals. I am excited to celebrate with family. Our stockings have been hung with care. I pray you have people to celebrate this sacred day with too.

As we do let us remember that, most of all, the promise of Christmas is a message of –

good news,
of great joy, and
peace on earth.

It is a message first delivered to the shepherds. Aka they who slept outdoors under the stars.  Aka they who were poor, lowly, despised.

This is good news for –
them,
us,
all.

Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.

Merry Christmas, beloved. Amen.

A seasonal poem of Thanksgiving.

We gather this eve amid candles,
Acknowledging all God has done,
With song, prayer, sacred texts,
In light no darkness overcomes.

Pandemic distance was hard, no doubt,
Yet safe and sound, together, are we.
Huddle close now, my friends, it’s ok;
And for that, Lord, praises be!

We gather this eve at St. John’s,
So happy that we could cry.
Why you might ask? Because –
After service – there’s pie!

It is true that this bounty before us,
Doesn’t reach all that it could,
Let us share what we have with others,
May we be In The City, For Good.

Be it food, clothing, shelter,
Let us faithfully always be there,
Giving back to neighbors without,
A cornucopia of care.

This season is not always cheery,
At times we’re distant from home.
Yet with our God, our faith, each other,
Know this: you are never alone.

As we peer beyond the turkey,
The stuffing, the green beans, the wine,
A new season doth approacheth.
What’s that? It’s Christmastime!

With Macy’s parade on the tube,
There are floats, dancing, song,
A reindeer, a sled, a chubby bearded dude,
With that there is nothing wrong.

Yet there is so much more to Yuletide,
Than presents placed under a tree.
For what we need most can’t be bought,
Instead? It is offered for free.

Advent, a season of waiting,
For hope, peace, joy, love.
With bated breath we are patient, for
*the* gift that comes from above.

We gather this eve amid candles,
Acknowledging God’s only Son,
With song, prayer, sacred texts,
This light no darkness overcomes.

So eat up, my friends, and remember
God’s bread (that’s Jesus) descends,
Giving life to all the world.
A heavenly reign with out end.

Our world sure could use some fixing,
Come Lord soon, we do pray.
Be near us, through laughter and troubles,
Yesterday, forever, today.

Our world sure could use some fixing,
Show us dear Lord, what to do.
Help us see others as beloved,
Through them, may we always see you.

A Hare was making fun of the Tortoise one day for being so slow.

“Do you ever get anywhere?” he asked with a mocking laugh.

“Yes,” replied the Tortoise, “and I get there sooner than you think. I’ll run you a race and prove it.”

The Hare was much amused at the idea of running a race with the Tortoise, but for the fun of the thing he agreed. So the Fox, who had consented to act as judge, marked the distance and started the runners off.

The Hare was soon far out of sight, and to make the Tortoise feel very deeply how ridiculous it was for him to try a race with a Hare, he lay down beside the course to take a nap until the Tortoise should catch up.

The Tortoise meanwhile kept going slowly but steadily, and, after a time, passed the place where the Hare was sleeping. But the Hare slept on very peacefully; and when at last he did wake up, the Tortoise was near the goal. The Hare now ran his swiftest, but he could not overtake the Tortoise in time.

So goes the Tale of The Hare & The Tortoise. It is one of Aesop’s most beloved fables. The takeaway from the story is this, Aesop concludes:

The race is not always to the swift.

James
Our focus text today is from James chapter 1, verses 17-27. In it the author begins by sharing that every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights. As the church calendar soon pivots toward Advent, and our month-long journey to the manger, we’re reminded that the ultimate gift come December 25 won’t be found under a tree. Instead, it is wrapped in swaddling clothes.

The text concludes with what pure religion looks like before God. If any think they are religious and can’t watch their tongues they are deceived. And their religion is worthless. Instead, a faith aligned with our creator is all about caring for others in distress.

It is alternate language for the Greatest Commandment: Love your God. Love your neighbor as yourself. For this is the whole of the law.

Smack dab in the middle of this text, between –

the perfect gift from above, and
caring for others in distress –

is a gem of wisdom on how to marry this heavenly gift with our call to care.

Clocking in at just nine words, summed to three imperatives, this short passage contains much. Be –

Quick to listen,
Slow to speak,
Slow to anger.

Said differently:

Take time to listen,
Wait, before talking,
Wait, when feeling upset.

Anger
The challenge anger presents has been part of our shared history since the beginning of time, first making an appearance in Genesis chapter 4.

Brothers Cain and Abel both brought offerings to God. God seemed to like Abel’s offering more. This upset Cain. God asked him why are you angry? If you do well you will be accepted. And if you do not? This is where sin lurks. Your anger will seek to draw you in, God told him. But you must master it.

To be honest it kinda sounds like a scene from Star Wars, with Yoda encouraging Luke Skywalker to channel his anger.

While Luke was able to master this lesson over time – for the most part – Cain could not.

Instead, Cain lured his brother to a field and in a fit of rage rose up against Abel, killing him.

Cain was –

Slow to listen,
Did not speak,

Quick to anger.
Quick to act.

Humanity has been dealing with the fallout from this first crime of passion ever since.

Just yesterday my third-grade son Graham came home with a worksheet from school that says, with big block letters on top, Angry Feelings. On it there are a series of cartoony plants and animals, each with an upset scowl lining their face.

These are some things that can help when you feel angry, the worksheet begins. Color the ones you would use. Options kids can select include –

• Listen to calming music
• Talk about it
• Get up and move
• Write in a journal
• Hug a loved one
• Take a break
• Think happy thoughts
• Take slow deep breaths
• Count to 10

Graham colored in listen to calming music, write in a journal, take slow deep breaths. Good job lil dude, those are great ways to approach angry feelings 😊.

Consider the language in this list: listen, write, think, breathe, hug, count.

Those are not quick actions. They are slow. Our schools are teaching kids at a young age about a feeling that, often when acted on, can cause very real harm. And in doing so they’re encouraging youth to take some time before they react.

I’d add perhaps one more action to the list: pray. Ask the Lord for perspective. Ask our Creator to help you see the image of God in the other or others with whom you are upset. Then ask for the wisdom to know how best to respond.

Don’t make it a quick prayer.
Do it nice and slow.

Christ the King
Today we celebrate the Festival of Christ the King. The festival was first added to the liturgical calendar in 1925 and is commemorated by Catholics and mainline Protestants across the globe.

The day reminds us Christ is to rule in our heads and hearts, over and above any other entity seeking to claim God’s throne.

What was going on in Europe when the feast day first began is hard to ignore. For in 1925 Mussolini became Prime Minister of Italy. Fascism and nationalist movements in Europe were on the rise. WWII was on the way.

Fascism is a political philosophy that exalts nation, and often race, over and above the individual, over and above everything else. Fascism is often led by a dictator and the forcible suppression of opposition.

When anger causes –

One nation to rise up against another, and
One race to rise up against another,

It’s a clear sign we are not following the way of Christ.

Our own recent US history has been marked by demonizing immigrants, conspiracy theories, a rise in Christian nationalism, and a ruler hesitant to vacate a political throne as leaders normally do. All this suggests we are at a delicate moment today too.

Speaking personally, I was heartened by our November elections. Candidates with more moderate views often won. Concession speeches became, once again, the norm. Civility, and kindness, just might be making a comeback.

For this let us pray.

Yet when we allow fear of the other to take hold, whether the other is defined by nation, race, ethnicity, orientation or political ideology it can’t help but lead to anger. And quickly, ever so quickly when we act out of a place of anger, things get messy, and fast. When that happens we all lose.

When we are busy being angry at each other we miss out on the opportunity to care for one another as our faith implores us to. The cost of this tradeoff is high.

Today
Let us be reminded that when Christ is on the throne of our hearts, over and above all else, this kind of stuff bubbles up less. For Christ rules with the law of love. It is a law that implores us to love God. To love our neighbor as ourselves.

Add in the wisdom of James and we find ourselves with the time and space to pursue a path of peace, hope, love.

As we soon pivot to Thanksgiving celebrations, and the season of Advent right after, we may just find ourselves stressed, hurried, distracted. In those moments may we be –

Quick to listen,
Slow to speak,
Slow to anger.

Lord, give us the patience to do that not just now but all year long.

For in the race of life being slow to anger is the only way, collectively, we can win. Amen.

A message on the active nature of prayer.

On February 14, 2018, 19-year-old Nikolas Cruz walked into Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland Florida and opened fire.

Though he had a well-documented history of violent behavior, aggressive language and a psychiatric diagnosis, a year prior Nikolas purchased an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle at a local gun shop. He did so legally, without incident.

It was this AR-15, along with multiple magazines of ammo for it, that he brought into school that day. Within four minutes he had killed 17 students, teachers and staff, wounding another 17. It remains the deadliest high school shooting in our nation’s history.

This mass shooting, personally speaking, hit close to home. Parkland is a 10-minute drive from where I worked in South Florida. I couldn’t help but wonder if the kids of my former coworkers were ok.

Happening on Valentine’s Day, where many celebrate the love two people share, the irony is difficult to miss. This particular February 14 was also Ash Wednesday, a day marked by prayer, fasting, repentance.

While preparing for worship that night I reflected on the news. My clergy colleague and I, sensing a moment, opted to talk openly about it in a Pastor Chat during service. Perhaps, we thought, others needed space to reflect and grieve too.

As we put the sign of the cross on people’s foreheads in ash that night, liturgy took on additional meaning.

Remember that you are dust.
And to dust you shall return.

Given the societal gridlock that surrounds gun violence in our land, a unique problem for us compared to other countries, I’m not always hopeful. Is change even possible?

That night I prayed in earnest for the challenges our country faces. Sometimes they seem insurmountable.

I closed my eyes and went to sleep.  Perhaps tomorrow would bring a brighter day.

Parable
Luke 18 finds Jesus teaching the disciples about the nature of prayer. Sensing they needed reassurance about the challenges they would soon face, Christ offers encouragement. Pray always, and do not lose heart, the passage begins.

The parable tells the tale of two characters, a widow and a judge. Widows were marginalized characters in this era, with little agency of their own. Cast aside from the mainstream patriarchal society that surrounded them, widows were likely seen as charity cases. Often in need of –

money,
food,
clothing,
shelter.

As happens today many choose to look away instead of lending a hand. But widows have something going for them. Or rather someone going for them: God.

The teachings of Judaism are crystal clear about treating widows, orphans and strangers with compassion. Treating them with justice. Hebrew scripture is chock full of passages about it. Here’s one from Exodus 22:22-23:

You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry.

If you’re a widow, and you’ve been wronged, knowing God is on your side is a pretty big win. It’s a good thing to keep in your back pocket. It is your ace in the hole.

Armed with this knowledge the widow goes to the judge. Grant me justice against me opponent she pleads. For she had been wronged.

Unfortunately, this was an unjust judge.
Which is an oxymoron.
Judges should seek justice, always.
It is the nature of what they do.

This judge neither feared God nor respected people.

Initially the unjust judge didn’t help. He’d already checked out of his job. He had no interest in doing it. Much less in doing it well.

It’s worth spending time with the power differential between the two characters. Here we have –

Widowed female vs. man of means.
Unemployed vs. elected official.
Powerless vs. powerful.

Even with this massive imbalance the woman kept pressing. She kept pleading her case to the unjust judge.

She did it –
again, and
again, and
again.

And why not? For she knew God was on her side.

Tiring from being bothered so much the unjust judge relents.

This widow keeps bothering me.
She won’t stop.
She just keeps showing up.
She is wearing me out.

I will grant her justice, the unjust judge reasons. Just so she leaves me alone.

And with that the widow had finally won.

This is how prayer works, Jesus concludes. When faced with injustice keep on crying out, in word and in deed. For if God can use a judge with questionable ethics like this, despite their baggage, anything is possible.

Pivot
Our nation has a significant gun issue, there’s just no way around it. The rate of firearm homicides in the US is almost 10 times higher than the third highest country in the world, Canada.

And yet there are more Christians in America than anywhere else on the globe.

Extremely violent country in one hand.
Lots of Christians in the country in the other.

This, too, is an oxymoron.
Or at least it should be.

Violence is not of God.
It’s not up for debate.
For we serve the Prince of Peace.

What to do?

Parkland
The response to the Parkland shooting began as most do. Politicians, pastors and pundits offered various versions of their thoughts and prayers. If prayer is just this passive thing, where you lift it up and ignore it later we needn’t expect much. Because with gun violence, in recent history, nothing ever seems to change.

But this time?
Something seemed different.

A day after the Parkland shooting student survivors formed a group, Never Again, to advocate for gun control.

Initially no one took them seriously.
They’re just high schoolers after all.
Who would listen to them?

That perception did not last long.

Three days after the shooting the Never Again group held a rally. Hundreds showed up. Three days after that they went to the state capital, begging legislators to do more.

The #neveragain hashtag soon went viral, keeping the gun control conversation going strong. The youth then hit the media, and were active in tv, radio, online.

And then, on March 24, less than six weeks after the shooting, they planned something big: March for Our Lives, a demonstration supporting gun control legislation. The march took place in Washington D.C., with over 880 sibling events throughout the US and the world.

With turnout estimated between 1.2 and 2 million people in the US, it was one of the largest protests in American history.

The students kept speaking out –
again, and
again, and
again.

And why not? As a people of faith serving the Prince of Peace we know something. When it comes to addressing systemic issues of a culture steeped in violence God is on our side.

The students kept rocking the boat.
They would not stop.
They just kept showing up.
They started to wear people out.

That Spring a series of wins for gun control advocates took place.

• President Trump directed the Department of Justice to ban bump stocks.
• The STOP School Violence Act increased funding for security training and metal detectors.
• The Florida Legislature raised the minimum age for buying rifles to 21, implementing waiting periods and background checks prior to purchase.
• Major gun sellers like Dick’s and Walmart raised the age requirement to 21.

And then, on June 25th of this year, President Biden signed the first major gun safety legislation passed by Congress in nearly three decades. Coming days after the Uvalde TX school shooting that killed 19, it gives incentives for states to remove weapons from people deemed a threat.

All that, because a group of high schoolers decided they were done falling victim to a culture that values guns more than human life.

All that because they never gave up.
(There’s still more work to do).

Today
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, reflecting on his participation in the 1965 civil rights march from Selma to Montgomery said this: I felt my legs were praying.

As this parable illustrates prayer can literally embody action.

Perhaps that is the way it works best.

God always sides with of the oppressed, the marginalized, the people treated as less than. Once you know that keep it in your back pocket. It is your ace in the hole.

It is your permission to sin boldly. It is your mandate to challenge unjust systems. For as small and insignificant as you may feel please know this: you have already won. For God is on your side.

Eventually God’s will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. We need only take part.

Yet to arrive at that we’ve got to treat prayer as more than merely –

closing our eyes,
bowing our heads,
saying some words.

Because standing up for God’s children requires action. And that action is prayer. The Parkland students show us what prayer looks like, in the flesh.  For —

Advocating is prayer.
Serving is prayer.
Organizing is prayer.
Funding is prayer.
Marching is prayer.
Picketing is prayer.
Voting is prayer.

Sound daunting? Here Christ reminds: Pray always. Do not lose heart.

Is addressing gun control not your jam? That’s cool. There’s a bevy of social justice issues the tenants of your faith call you to pursue. Be it –

Gender inequality,
Affordable housing,
Racial equity,
Food insecurity,
Homelessness,
LGBTQ+ inclusion,
Care of creation –

Pick your passion and then dive in.

Be the fly in the ointment.
Stare unjust systems down.
No need to blink.

Do it –
again, and
again, and
again.

Keep rocking the boat.
Do not stop.
Keep showing up.

Pray without ceasing.
Eyes wide open.
Until God’s will be done.  Amen.