Christ the King/Christ in Majesty

November 23, 2024

 

Daniel 7.9-10, 13-14; Revelation 1.4b-8; John 18.33-37

 

 

+ Today is the traditional Christ the King Sunday, also known as Christ in Majesty.

 

It is the last Sunday of the long, green season after Pentecost which began way back in May (aww, remember sweet, innocent May!).

 

Today, with many of us feeling anxiety about our collective future, we recognize that no matter how terrible or how great a leader may be, there is one leader for us, as Christians, who is the ultimate Leader.

 

The King of Kings.

 

It is an important Sunday in the Church.

 

Today marks the End of one Church Year—Year B.

 

Next Sunday will be the First Sunday of Advent and Church Year C begins.

 

So, it’s kind of like New Year’s, almost a month early.

 

This feast feels like an ancient feast—Christ the King Sunday.

 

But it actually is not.

 

It’s only 99 years old.

 

In 1925, Pope Pius XI instituted the Feast of Christ the King to remind Christians that their allegiance was to their spiritual ruler in heaven as opposed to earthly supremacy, which was claimed by the fascist dictator, Benito Mussolini.

 

It is a Sunday for us to remind ourselves that Jesus stood up against the empire and showed us what true leadership looks like.

 

It is a time for us to remind ourselves that Jesus’ “kingship” does not involve domination or some kind of weird triumph.

 

Rather, it embodies the radical, all-powerful compassion and love of Jesus seeking justice for all.

 

For us, now, in our anxiety, in our uncertainly, can look forward to something more than what this world promises.

 

Advent, that time of preparation for Christmas, is about to happen.

 

The Season of Advent is, of course, the season of anticipation—of longing.

 

And dare I say, maybe a fair share of healthy impatience.

 

Maybe that’s why I like it so much.

 

I am an impatient person—as anyone who has worked with me for any period of time knows.

 

Certainly, we, as followers of Jesus, might get a bit impatient about that for which we are longing.

 

Our journey as followers of Jesus, is filled with anticipation and longing.

 

We know, as we make this journey through life, that there is an end to our journey.

 

We know there is a goal.

 

But we might not always be aware of what that goal is or even why we’re journeying toward it.

 

But today, Christ the King Sunday, we get just a little glimpse of that goal.

 

We get to get an idea of what it is we are anticipating.

 

We get a glimpse of the THE END of the story.

 

We are invited, on this Sunday, to see this King—this ultimate Ruler—coming to us on clouds, and on wheels of burning fire.

 

I, for one, love the drama and the splendor of such an image.

 

In our readings today—especially our readings from the Prophet Daniel and Revelation, we too, with Daniel and the Apostle John, get a glimpse of what it is we are hoping for, what we are striving for.

 

We see a glimpse of the One we, as Christians, recognize as Christ, that Anointed One who is seated at the right hand of God—our God who is the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and End— and who is coming to us on the clouds.

 

But the Ruler we see in our own collective vision this morning is not the humble carpenter, the amazing miracle worker, or the innocent newborn baby we are anticipating in a month’s time.

 

The Ruler we encounter this morning is coming to us on clouds, yes, but he also comes to us while standing on the throne of the Cross—an about-to-be condemned criminal—engaging in a conversation with Pontius Pilate about who he is.

 

The Christ we encounter today is crowned, yes—but he is crowned with thorns.

 

This King we celebrate today—this King crowned as he is with a crown of thorns—he is the Ruler of all of us, no matter who the rulers on earth may be.

 

And because he is our ruler, in him whatever divisions—especially political divisions—there are between are eliminated. 

 

After all, he too lived in a world of terror and fear, in a world of division, where fear and terror and despotic leaders were daily realities in his life.

 

This is the Christ we encounter as well today.

 

The Christ we encounter today is Christ our King, Christ our Priest, Christ our ultimate Ideal.

 

But he is also so much more than that.

 

He is also the one that some would also judge as Christ the Rebel, Christ the Misfit, Christ the Refugee, Christ the Immigrant, Christ the Failure.

 

And what the Rebel, the Misfit, the Refugee, the Immigrant, the Failure shows us powerfully is that God even works through such manifestations.

 

God works through rebellion, through ostracization, through failure even.

 

And this is a very real part of our message on Christ the King Sunday.

 

In the midst of the brokenness of Christ, God is ultimately truly victorious.

 

And because of what God does in Christ we too, even despite our own brokenness, despite our own  rebelliousness, despite our own failures, we too will ultimately triumph in Christ.

 

The King we encounter on this Sunday, the King that awaits us at the end of our days, is not a despotic king.

 

The King that we encounter today is not a King who rules with an iron fist and makes life under his reign oppressive.

 

This King is not some stern Judge, waiting to condemn us to hell for what we’ve done or not done or for who we are.

 

But at the same time the King we honor today is not a figurehead or a soft and ineffective ruler.

 

Rather, the King we encounter today is truly the One we are following, the One who leads us and guides us and guards us.

 

This King does not allow us to have fear as an option in our lives.

 

This King eliminates our divisions.

 

The King we encounter today is the refugee, the misfit, the rebel, the outcast, the immigrant, the marginalized one, who has triumphed and who commands us to welcome and love all those who are marginalized and living with terror and fear in their own lives.

 

And his Kingdom, that we anticipate, is our ultimate home.

 

We are all—all of us, every single one of us, no matter who we are—, at this moment, we are citizens of that Kingdom of God, over which God has put the anointed One, the Christ.

 

That Kingdom is the place wherein each of us belongs, ultimately.

 

That is where our true citizenship lies.

 

You have heard me say it in many, many sermons that our job as Christians, as followers of Jesus, is to make that Kingdom a reality.

 

You hear me often talking about the Kingdom breaking through into our midst.

 

That’s not just poetic talk from your poet-priest.

 

It is something I believe in deeply.

 

The Kingdom—that place toward which we are all headed—is not only some far-off Land in some far-away sky we will eventually get to when we die.

 

It is a reality—right here, right now.

 

That Kingdom is the place which breaks into this world whenever we live out that command of Jesus to love God and to love one another.

 

When we act in love toward one another, the Kingdom of God is present among us.

 

Again, this is not some difficult theological concept to grasp.

 

It is simply something we do as followers of Jesus.

 

When we love, God’s true home is made here, with us, in the midst of our love.

 

A kingdom of harmony and peace and love becomes a reality when we sow seeds of harmony and peace and love.

 

And, in that moment when the Kingdom breaks through to us, here and now, we get to see what awaits us in our personal and collective End.

 

As we prepare for this END—and we should always be preparing for the END—we should rejoice in this King, who is the ruler of our true home.

 

And we should rejoice in the fact that, in the end, all of us will be received by that King into that Kingdom he promises to us, that we catch glimpses of, here in this place, when we act and serve each other out of love for one another.

 

The Kingdom is here, with us, right now.

 

It is here, in the love we share and in the ministries we do.

 

So, on this Christ the King Sunday, let us ponder the End, but let us remember that the End is not some terrible thing.

 

The End is, in fact, that very Kingdom that we have seen in our midst already.

 

For us the End is that Kingdom—a Kingdom wherein there is a King who rules out of love and concern for us. And for all.

 

“I am the Alpha—the beginning—and the Omega—the End,” the God of Jesus is saying to us.

 

And for us, we know what that means.

 

We know that it is in our End that we truly do find our beginning.

 

26 Pentecost

Stewardship Sunday

 

November 17, 2024

 

Daniel 12.1-3; Mark 13:1-8

 

 

+ As you know, we originally scheduled Stewardship Sunday for last Sunday.

 

But, then the election happened.

 

Which is part of the reason we’re doing it this week and not last week.

 

And I have to say, I’m actually kind of all right that we are doing it Stewardship Sunday today.

 

Because I think it’s important, as we face the realities of our common future, that we realize how important our St. Stephen’s community is in times like this.

 

This is our main point to concentrate on right now.

 

Our community.

 

Right here.

 

And how it important it is to us.

 

How vital it is to have a place to come to where we feel safe, where we feel included, where we feel that, whatever may come, we will have each other.

 

This is what the Church should be, after all.

 

I think, in the face of Christian Nationalism and milquetoast statements from church leader, or just the deafening silence I hear from colleagues recently, it is important for us to find our community in times like this and find out strength in numbers.

 

Stewardship is as good a time as any to do so.

 

What do we do when we feel helpless?

 

Well, we just do something.

 

Or, when we can’t ourselves, we look to those who are close to us who can.

 

St. Stephen’s has always been that place.

 

We have always stood up and spoken out against injustice and inequality in our world.

 

And we will continue to do so.

 

That is not limited to political parties or party lines.

 

That is just a common human experience.

 

And you would think it is something that we all would be on board about.

 

Sadly, we’re not.

 

As I said, I am shocked by the either the lackluster responses or just the deafening silence of those who can and should be speaking out in the church.

 

So, it’s good to be in a community where we have the community we have.

 

It is the time for all of us to come together, to be this community.

 

We do that by pledging.

 

We do that by our stewardship.

 

We do that by stepping up and helping out.

 

Because we NEED each other right now.

 

Desperately.

 

We need the presence of people in our midst. In the pews.

 

We need your support, financially.

 

We need your muscle and your voice to pitch in and speak out.

 

You wouldn’t think this little parish in this kind of obscure corner of Fargo would be the place it is.

 

But here we are.

 

Just yesterday, St. Stephen’s was featured in an article on the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (or PETA) website.

 

Whatever you might think of PETA, this interview is being seen by tons of people.

 

I’ll post a link.

 

As you know, people call us on a regular basis from all over the country, to commend us for the stances we made in the media, or on our website, or just by our presence.

 

You may remember a few months a go a woman from the East Coast left a message here out of the blue one day saying she wanted desperately to implement some of the things we do here at St. Stephen’s at her parish there.

 

Those kind of comments shock me.

 

We, who are in the midst of it, we don’t feel like we’re doing anything all that different here.

 

But we really are.

 

Sometimes just by our mere presence.

 

Most of us have come here from other congregations in which we have experienced some hardship or oppression or some very unchristian-like behavior.

 

For most of us, that is why we are here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Many came here because this is a refuge from the difficulties of other religious communities.

 

And I am very grateful today for us being that place.

 

We are also a place in which people are not only welcomed but included because of who they are.

 

This is who we are and who we always have been.

 

We are the ones always, it seems, on the forefront.

 

We were on the forefront of women being fully included in the Church back in the 1970s—the first parish in this diocese to have women Lay Readers, women wardens, women acolytes and w0men clergy.

 

We were on the forefront of the LGBTQ+ movement, being the first to welcome and include queer people, to marry queer people, to fight for the ordination of queer people. (Sadly, we didn’t win some of those battles at the time)

 

And we are still on the forefront.

 

This is who St. Stephen’s has always been.

 

And one area that I am very grateful for here at St. Stephen’s is our continual presence and work in the larger Diocese, now especially as we head in our Bishop’s election in 2025.

 

We continue to be a force in this diocese—a very solid force.

 

And a much-needed (and maybe a bit too loud) voice.

 

And as we all move forward, as I said, this is why we need each other, especially now.

 

All of this is why we need this Stewardship time.

 

It is a time for us to look long and hard at what it means to be a part of our parish of St. Stephen’s.

 

It means supporting it with our financial resources, so we can continue to stand up, to speak out, to be the place we have always been, especially now.

 

For some that means tithing—giving from the 10% of one’s income.

 

For others it means giving from what you can give.

 

But it is knowing full well that we can’t do these things—like being a vital, vibrant and outspoken parish in this community, in the Church and the world especially in the days that are to come, without financial resources.

 

We as a parish need to be prepared for whatever that might be.

 

But it means more than that too.

 

It means giving of our time and our talents.

 

It means that we don’t just get to sit on our hands and let others do the work.

 

Or just let Fr. Jamie do the work.

 

It means we ALL need to stand up and speak out.

 

It means we also roll up our sleeves and make sure the day-to-day stuff still happens.

 

It means serving as an acolyte, or on altar guild, or in coffee hour, or singing as cantor, or playing music with James, or finding ways to make the church beautiful.

 

It means giving of our artistic talents.

 

Or it means being a loud and proud representative of St. Stephen’s in the community and the world.

 

It means speaking out and protecting our gay, lesbian, bisexual and trans sisters and brothers, because they still definitely need us to do so.  

 

It means serving on our annual Pride in the Park, or speaking out against unfair treatment of refugees, or protesting racists and white supremacists.

 

It means going to the mosque and help clean up after hate crimes are committed against our Muslim or Jewish sisters and brothers.

It means not supporting anything that leads to further division or hate or injustice in our community and society.

 

It means literally being a follower of Jesus not only here in church on Sunday, but every single moment of our entire lives.

 

Because all of that is who we are too.

 

And have always been.

 

This is not rocket science.

 

This is not quantum physics.

 

This is basic Christianity that we are doing here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Basic Christianity, as we live it out here at St. Stephen’s, is nothing more than following Jesus in his commandment to love God and love one another as we love ourselves.

 

To love God.

 

And to love others.

 

It means living out our Baptismal Covenant.

 

It means saying that all people deserve the rites of this Church fully and completely.

 

It is a matter of LOVE.

 

I know. I preach it all the time. And you’re probably sick of hearing me preaching about love all the time. But…you know what?

 

That’s tough.

 

Because love DOES make a difference.

 

To love—fully and completely.

 

To love—radically and inclusively.

 

I personally don’t see that as all that radical.

 

I see that being as fairly basic.

 

In today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus saying, “you will hear of wars and rumors of wars.”

 

These words of Jesus are especially poignant for us on this particular Sunday.

 

There is lots of talk right now about turmoil and rumors of turmoil.

 

Jesus uses a very interesting description of these fears and pains—images of war and turmoil and upheaval and their rumors.

 

He calls them “birth pangs.”

 

And I think “pang” is the right word to be using here, for us at this moment.

 

Yes, it may be painful to be going through what we may be going through when we face an uncertain collective future and when we stand up for what we believe is right.

 

The future may, at times, seem bleak.

 

There will be wars and rumors of wars.

 

But the words we cling to—that we hold on to and find our strength in to bear those pangs—in these difficult times is in the words “do not be alarmed.”

 

Do not be alarmed.

 

There is a calmness to Jesus’ words.

 

In the midst of turmoil, we are called to be a community, together, to stand up together, to speak out, together.

 

Because in the end, God will always triumph.

 

And God always provides!

 

If we place our trust—our confidence—in God, we will be all right.

 

Yes, we will suffer birth pangs, but look what comes after them.

 

It is a loving and gracious God who calms our fears amidst calamity and rumors of calamity.

 

Our job is to live as fully as we can right now. Right here.  

 

Our job is to simply do what we’ve always been doing here at St. Stephen’s.

 

To welcome, to accept, to love. To not judge.

 

To stand up and protect those who need us to do so for them.

 

We have this moment.

 

This holy moment was given to us by our loving and gracious God.

 

This Stewardship Sunday is about us doing our part as a congregation that does the things St. Stephen’s does.

 

Yes, it means giving money to this congregation.

 

It also means giving of our time and energy.

 

Of our very selves, even when we’re tired.

 

Evenw hen we’re drained.

 

Even when we’re ready to give up.

 

On Stewardship Sunday, we are being asked to serve as well.

 

To serve in love.

 

To serve fully as Jesus calls us to serve and love.

 

So, let us, on this Stewardship Sunday, continue to do what we’ve been doing.

 

 Let us welcome radically and love radically.

 

Let us give of ourselves fully, so that we can serve fully.

 

Let us, in our following of Jesus, continue to strive to be a powerful and visible conduit of the Kingdom of God in our midst.

 

It’s already happening.

 

Right now.

 

Right here.

 

In our midst.

 

It is truly a time in which to be grateful and hopeful.

 

Stewardship Letter

 November 17, 2024

26 Pentecost

 

Dear St. Stephen’s family,

 

Today is, of course, Stewardship Sunday—the day when we pray about and ponder our financial pledge cards and our pledge of time-and-talent. As we do so, it is good to ask: “what is this pledge package we are receiving?”

            My answer is a fairly simple one. Your pledge is a way to say,

 

“St. Stephen’s is important to me. I love what it stands for. I love its uniqueness. I love that St. Stephen’s has accepted me when I needed acceptance. I love that it accepts others who need acceptance. I love that St. Stephen’s offers me a community at time when ‘community’ is uncertain, when many of us feel ostracized and marginalized.  St. Stephen’s is so important to me I am willing to support it with my creativity, my energy and my financial resources.”

 Everyone knows we at St. Stephen’s are welcoming. But there are many “welcoming” churches. We however, work hard to be fully-accepting. We are a fully-inclusive congregation in a community in which fully-inclusive churches are few and far-between.  To be this kind of a congregation, we are definitely not push-overs. We are also very committed to our being who we are and what we are. And when we stand up for something, we truly STAND UP. And speak out. Which is needed in this time and in this place.  

This is how we follow Jesus. This is how we live as children of God in this sometimes scary and uncertain world that needs radical goodness, radical acceptance, radical love.

Your pledge makes sure we continue to be the congregation we have always been. Your pledge helps us to continue to be a radical, loving and safe place for all. 

I have said it many times before: if you want to see the Episcopal Church of the future—it is right here. We are it. St. Stephen’s is what it means to be alive and vital as Christians. We are what it means to be all-inclusive, even if that means being inclusive to a fault. We are what it means to accept everyone—no matter their sexuality, their color, their gender, their political party, no matter if they are spiritual skeptics -- everyone is welcome here and fully ACCEPTED here. This is who we are.

And in the face of whatever may come, socially, government-wise, if the skies turns dark and the moon falls into the ocean, it is vital for all of us to have a safe community, in which we can find a safe place where we know we can still be who we are and what we are, without fear. St. Stephen’s is always going to be that place.  

That is what your pledge supports—providing a safe community for everyone in uncertain times.  

Please return your pledge package any time before Sunday, December 8 for our ingathering.

Your financial offering is essential for us to continue to be who we are. We cannot be the inclusive, outspoken, accepting congregation we are without your help and support.

More than anything, please know how grateful and humbled I am to be serving as your priest. I am truly blessed by God to be serving a congregation that is genuinely excited about what it is doing, that is renewed by its energy and committed to its following of Jesus. Thank you for all you have given to me.

 

-peace,

Fr. Jamie+

 

Prayer for St. Stephen’s during Stewardship Time

Lord God, surround us with your love. Be present in this congregation of St. Stephen’s as you have been since our beginning. Let us know your presence among us—in the sacrament, in your Word and in those who have gathered here in your name. Let your Spirit be present with us and in all we do. Open our hearts and our minds to the goodness you are doing here through us. And let us respond appropriately. Bless St. Stephen’s with abundance and with the resources needed to do the ministries we do here.  Let us, in turn, do good. Let peace reign here with us, even as wars and rumors of wars rage about us. And let your words of assurance to us to not fear anything calm our hearts and souls so that we can do what you have called us to do.  In the name of Jesus your Son, we pray in confidence. Amen.

A Prayer to get through this Monday

 

By Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber, ELCA

 Dear God,

There’s so much to fear right now that I’m sort of losing track of what to worry about most.

 So I’m gonna need some help focusing.

 Show me what is MINE to do.

 Then grant me the strength to do it, and the humility to rest knowing it is enough.

 Help me remember that even if there is more to worry about in life right now, it does not mean that there is less to love in life right now.

 So protect every inch of our joy, Lord.

 And if you could help me stop reading shit on the internet, that might really help too.

 Amen.

 

25 Pentecost

November 10, 2024

1 Kings 17:8-16; Psalm 146; Mark 12.38-44

+There was a meme going around later last week that said:

GOD HELP THE PREACHERS WHO HAVE TO PREACH THIS SUNDAY.

That’s the truth!

God, help me today.

So, originally we planned Stewardship Sunday today.

But when I realized that it was the Sunday after the election, I didn’t feel right about doing it on this day.

I wasn’t certain how things would go.

And now I’m happy we’re not doing it today.

For many here at St. Stephen’s,  it been a difficult week, a week of devastating loss.

It has been a  week of fear and shock and anger and disillusionment.  

I have been listening and sitting with many of you who are who are feeling very helpless.

People feel as though there is nothing we can do.

People feel as though we are at the whim of whatever may happen.

It’s hard to face that fact that we can’t change the bigger things—the things beyond our reach or control.

But we have lots of control in our own orbits, in our own spaces—to some extent.

There are things we can do here and now.

And there are certain things we can do here.

We can do what we’ve always done here at St. Stephen’s.

It is moments like this I hope you’re as grateful as I am that we have a place like St. Stephen’s, a place where we are safe and sound and loved and included.

And inspired by that, we can choose certain things.

We can choose compassion.

 We can choose selflessness.

We can choose personal decency.

We are, after all, Children of God, and as children of God we are called to live life differently than the majority of the world.  

We can choose to do what we have always done, as Christians, as followers of Jesus, as members of St. Stephen’s.

And we will.

In the face of whatever life or governments may do, we can stand up, we can stand firm and we can not only profess our faith, we can live it out.

And we can speak out.

And we can stand up, as we always have, and do everything we can to fight injustice.

As we always have.

We can still work diligently to bring in the kingdom of God in our midst, in our own ways.

Bravely and surely.

Without fear.

I know fear is a potent force right now in our lives and in our country.

In the history of St. Stephen’s ministry, things have come and things have gone.

In just the time that I’ve been there, we have experienced so much.

Presidents and governments have come and gone.

There have been bleak times and there have been very good times.

I am not going to say to those who feel fear or anger over the presidential race to buck up, to get over it.

But this is one thing I do know: St. Stephen’s will continue to be a place of openness and acceptance, no matter what.

We will still be followers of Jesus in this world.

 We will still work to further God’s Kingdom of justice and equality in our own way, as best we can.

 The scriptures we hear today, speak very clearly to us today as well.

 We  find a pure and most poignant voice in the words from today’s Psalm:

 “The Lord raises up those who are bowed down.”

 “Bowed down”

 That is a beautifully poetic understanding of what many of us are feeling today.

 This is what it feels like when we have been knocked down or disillusioned.

 Certainly, in biblical times, no one was more bowed down than the widows we meet in our readings today.

 Marginalized women.

 Some things never change.

 In our reading from the Hebrew scriptures, we find a widow who visits the prophet and who, out of a desperate situation—she and her son will no doubt starve soon—she gives from what she has.

 She, bowed down and helpless, gives from what she has.

 In our Gospel, we find a widow who is giving two small coins—money that, no doubt, could have gone for food.

 Now, the stories seem basic.

 OK.

 So they’re poor women.

 But there’s more to it than that.

 Being a widow then and there was different than being a widow now. 

 We oftentimes miss the real meaning behind these stories of the poor widows.

 A widow in those times was very much a person “bowed down.”

 Women, for the most part, at that time were defined by their men.

 Men took care of women—whether it be the father, the husband, the brother or the son— and when there were no men to look after the woman, she was left to her own devices, which were—in that time and in that place—extremely limited.

 So, when we look at it from this perspective, for these widows, to give anything at all, is pretty amazing, since they probably had very, very  little to give in the first place.

 And yet they, in their poverty, gave abundantly.

 These widows, these bowed down people, these marginalized and ignored people, are the people we are called—no, that we are commanded—to not forget about or turn away from.

  Over and over again in both the Hebrew scriptures and in the New Testament, we are commanded to not neglect those who are lacking.

 We are not to neglect those among us who are being “bowed down”

 We are being commanded by God again and again to never turn away from the poor, from the marginalized, from those who are sick, from those who are being oppressed.

 Governments may do that.

 Political systems may do that.

 But we---we do not have that option.

 The reason behind this is that we—as believers in God, as children of God and followers of Jesus—are not to look at the world as those “of the world” do.

 How are we to see this world?

 We are to see this world with the “eyes of God.”

 We are to see—and to truly see— as God sees.

 And not just see as God sees.

 But to act as God acts.

 We are to show compassion on others as God shows compassion on us.

 When we do so—when we don’t turn away from those who are being unjustly treated in our midst—we are drawing close to the presence and the love of God.

 But more so than even that, oftentimes when we act as God acts in this world, we are actually being the embodiment of God to those who need God in their lives.

 And most importantly, when we refuse to turn away from the oppressed in our midst, we are being mirrors of that compassion and love of God to others.

 But I am going to take this even one more step further.

 Yes, we are not to turn away from those who are oppressed, but we are also called, in those moments when see, as God sees, oppression and injustice in our midst to stand up and speak out against oppression and injustice.

 And through all of this we need to remind ourselves that we too are lacking.

 We too are not fully content, not fully rich, not fully whole, not fully in control.

 Even those of us who “have,” know what it means, at times, to be out in the fringes.

 We too who dress in our “long robes,” sometimes know what it means to be “bowed down” by injustice.

 When we read these stories of the poor widows—we can, in all honesty, put ourselves in the place of the widow.

 No, we are not necessarily hungry, or poor, or dependent upon someone else for our financial well-being.

 But we may have known oppression in our lives.

 We may have known what it feels like to be marginalized, to be treated as someone less in this world just because of who we are.

 We too know what it is like to be ignored and seen as unimportant.

 I personally have known this profoundly in my own life many, many times.

 I have known it by the society in which I live.

 I have most certainly known it by the Church in which I serve, and by the leaders of that Church.

 And any of us who have been truly “bowed down” can tell you: being “bowed down” is awful.

 Truly and terribly awful!

 No one strives to be one of the bowed down in our society.

 No one wishes to be treated that way in this world.

 So, what do we do in these situations?

 Well, when it happens we recognize our dependence on that One who truly does feed us who are hungry, on the One who raises up us who are bowed down

 Because God is with those who are oppressed.

 And in this world—this world that is at times so ugly and unfriendly and so mean-spirited and so violent and so full of deceit—we too know what it means to be on the receiving end of those things.

 We too know what it means, at times, to be hurt and burdened.

 And it is very important for all of us who are bowed down to remember.

 Those who are lacking are not only to receive justice.

 We cannot just hoard justice or demand it only for ourselves. 

 We are to show justice as well in our own lives.

 And that it is why it is important to identify with the widows.

 We—fractured human beings that we are—must show the justice we expect for ourselves.

 Even in our lacking, even bowed down as we might be, even ostracized and marginalized from the world and the Church and society, we must live out our lives with integrity and meaning.

 We must emanate justice in all we do and say.

 And we must fight against injustice whenever we see it.

 And trust me, we will get through this.

 We will emerge from this.

 There will be better days.

 For now, despite what we may find around us, let each of us bear within ourselves the love and compassion of God to others.

 Let us reflect it with our very lives and actions.

 Let us live God’s justice out in our very lives and in all of our actions.

 Let us love others, even those we really do not right now want to love, as God loves us.

 Let us be compassionate to others, as God is compassionate to us.

 And when we do, only then will injustice finally begin to cease.

 Only then will we know that, yes, truly God does raise up those who are bowed down.