This week I read the lectionary texts and my first thought was, “You’ve got to be kidding!” These are not passages I have the energy to deal with this week and I’ve yet to figure out how I’m going to preach them to patients involuntarily admitted to a psych hospital. But that is a challenge for another day. Today, my response is to share a poem that is also a prayer. The title is “Justice” and it’s from my book, Barefoot Theology, Wipf & Stock, 2013, pg. 67-69.
A Chinese friend frequently hears “Go back where you came from!”
She is hurt more than she lets on but pretends to be numb.
How can hatred be based only on what we see?
Lord, have mercy.
An African neighbor has hateful words sprayed on his house
just because he wants to live in peace with his spouse.
When ugliness and fear step in where grace ought to be,
Christ, have mercy.
Young ones kill themselves when the bullies go unchecked
because no one can see the life that hateful words have wrecked.
How can we not learn this lesson when it’s shown so painfully?
Lord, have mercy.
Homeless women, men, and children hide in the shadows
we walk in a hurry—compassion is something fear overshadows.
For all the times we cannot tolerate, “This could be me,”
Christ, have mercy.
Muslims are suspect even when they are life-long citizens
of a country founded on religious freedom and welcome of others.
Is it impossible for us to accept someone who worships differently?
Lord, have mercy.
Black men and women crowd our jails with frustrated rage
as our laws uphold racism and so few recognize this outrage,
while others spew such hatred and violence freely and publicly.
Christ, have mercy.
Women are paid less and targeted more for perceived weakness
and, for some, abuse is still inflicted when there is a lack of meekness.
Why are laws so slow in changing what should not be?
Lord, have mercy.
The elderly are victimized by scammers who readily take what is not theirs
and it’s a shame when this happens with no one around who cares
enough to help and protect ones so vulnerable who deserve safety.
Christ, have mercy.
Gay men are beaten on the streets of cities known for their acceptance—
headlines and news stories report witnesses and their helpless tolerance.
For all the moments of learned helplessness and studious apathy,
Lord, have mercy.
Bigger walls and more border protections to keep illegals out
when all they want is a chance at a better life and, without a doubt,
they would find it here if there were such a thing as legal hospitality.
Christ, have mercy.
Surely the day is coming when fear, violence, hatred, and greed
will cease and loving kindness is the response to all human need.
Are we not called by God to rejoice and live peaceably?
Lord, let us be your mercy.
RCL – Year A – Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Psalm 119:1-8
1 Corinthians 3:1-9
Matthew 5:21-37
Twenty years ago when I preached my first Advent sermon, I began by confessing just how much I did not like Advent at all. Thankfully, this is no longer the case. I love this season of waiting for the Light. Christmas lights all over the place and carols playing in stores and on the radio are just plain fun. I still don’t like the crowded stores or the increase in entries on my calendar and to-do lists, but they serve as a reminder of the choices I get to make about how I prepare for Christmas. It’s not all crazy consumerism nor is it all serious spirituality. For me Advent is an opportunity to regain a little balance in my life through both a little extra frivolity and a renewed effort to choose hope, peace, joy, and love in Christ over despair, anxiety, complacency, and apathy often in the world. Advent is a time of waiting. Sometimes waiting on tiptoe with joyful anticipation and sometimes waiting with agonizing impatience for the One who is, who was, and who is to come.
