How are you feeling about what’s going on in our country? Anyone grieving, afraid, overwhelmed, despairing? What about rage? What is making you angry right now?
Rage is all around us. Our president is tapping into the rage of people who have been suffering economically, people who have felt left out and unheard, people who are disoriented by changes in our society. Anger at immigrants, queer and trans folks, academia and news media may be unjustified and misplaced but the cause of this rage is real pain.
Today we heard the story of Jesus surrounded by a rage-filled crowd in Nazareth. Maybe the folks in the synagogue were upset because this hometown kid was unwilling to show his credentials as the Messiah. After all, Jesus had just given his inaugural speech, declaring that he was the embodiment of the prophet’s promises—you know, the ones not yet fulfilled in all of human history. The poor would eat and thrive. The oppressed would go free. The blind would see. And the year of God’s favor would actually happen. Hebrew scriptures called for a jubilee every fifty years—slaves released, debts forgiven, land returned to the landless. So maybe the crowd just wanted to see evidence that Jesus was for real. Or maybe it was something else that sparked their rage. Perhaps they had expected special treatment from Jesus, given their close relationship with him, a “cut” of his power, so to speak. And when he started telling them stories that suggested outsiders and foreigners were going to get all the attention, they lost their minds.
I’m very curious about the way today’s Gospel passage ends. The crowd, filled with murderous rage, drives Jesus out of town, to the brow of a hill, intending to throw him off the cliff. “But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” I have always imagined that Jesus just did a bit of magic, vanishing, poof! Or that he was really athletic, and, like a great running back, slipped out of their tackles. I wonder, though, if something else entirely unfolded. Could it be that he somehow was hospitable to their rage, that he met them in it and heard what was underneath it? Did he help them calm and regulate their bodies? I’m not saying he changed their minds. Maybe, though, he helped them find their better selves, the part of themselves that saw him as a fellow human being whose life was valuable.
“But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” Friends, I find myself considering what will help regulate our bodies and emotions, and those of our country as a whole. What is helping you sustain your humanity amid all this rage? I follow Steven Charleston on social media, a Native American elder, author, and retired Episcopal bishop of Alaska. He said this a few days ago, as we were barraged with executive orders.
Shock and awe is a military tactic. Comfort and awe is a spiritual alternative. The military option supports the will to dominate. The spiritual option supports the commitment to liberate. We share with all people an awesome grace: the path to peace, on the walk of truth and reconciliation, with justice lived for the sake of all creation. We do not seek control, but something much more transformational and enduring. We seek kinship.[1]
“But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” Jesus went on his way. He did not let the rage of others, or his own rage, paralyze him. He kept moving. He went about his work, despite opposition and risk. He was grounded in clear purpose. I’ve been inundated with emails from the news organizations I subscribe to, titled, “breaking news.” I can’t keep up with the stream of alarming information coming at me as I scroll through social media. If I’m not careful, I find myself drawn into a space of unrelenting reactivity. It’s exhausting, overwhelming, terrifying, and enraging.
Let’s figure out how to go on our way, like Jesus did. We can make the choice to respond (rather than react)—strategically, prayerfully, and powerfully. Instead of flailing around in every direction, we can move together, organizing people, organizing power, organizing love and hospitality, mercy and justice. If each of use choose one arena in which to organize, our small church an create a huge amount of momentum. Here are a few opportunities I know about right now: We can distribute “red cards” to our community so folks know their rights in relation to ICE. We can sign up for a Braver Angels program called “1:1 Conversations Across Differences.” They create the pairings and offer a structured discussion protocol so that people can actually talk to one another amid political divides. We can get involved in local campaigns that, amid all this destruction, help to build the world we want to live in. UNIDOS is addressing climate and equity issues. ISAIAH is seeking to change zoning laws to allow for more affordable, climate-friendly housing to be built, especially in the suburbs. ISAIAH is also working on Minneapolis schools and changing the politics in Minneapolis so that government is responsive to the needs of citizens instead of being ruled by a handful of insiders.
When I was a kid I memorized I Corinthians chapter 13 at Bible camp. At the time, I did it for the t-shirt prize. I’ve realized since then that knowing this piece of scripture by heart gives me a thread to hold on to. Amid the swirls of rage, the torrents of grief, the storms of fear, the love of God is our thread, our constant, our compass. “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Divine love is unconditional and inexhaustible. Divine love is hospitable to our worst selves in a way that calls us toward our best selves. Divine love keeps us going, moving ahead together with purpose. Though we can never know what the outcome of our efforts will be, we can trust that “love never ends.”
Amen.
[1] https://www.facebook.com/bishopstevencharleston