“Liberation…is an unending awakening”
The last chapter of Cole Arthur Riley’s book This Here Flesh, which we have been journeying with throughout Lent, is entitled “Liberation.” In this chapter, Ms. Riley shares a vision of all the tables in the world lining up side by side, with room for all of humanity to sit and eat together. There will be enough food for everyone, enough space for everyone, enough love to go around. People will be drawn to the table, and at the table there will be no shame and no harm, no death-dealing ideologies. People will find their way to the table, even if they get lost on the way. At the table, it will become evident that “liberation…is an unending awakening.” Liberation is not an end point, but it is ongoing, for each of us as individuals and all the communities that make up our world community.
As we enter into Holy Week and then travel through Resurrection Sunday and into the season of Easter, let us hold liberation front and center in our minds and hearts. Let us allow ourselves to awaken to liberation around us—and to the places in our selves, in our families, in our world, that need a liberative breath. Part of the awakening of liberation is cultivating our awareness of how those living on the margins of society have been pushed there by the centers of power. So, as you have embraced your humanity throughout the Lenten season, practice embracing others’ humanity: those whose identities differ from yours in race, gender, sexuality, gender expression, economic status, education level, class, national origin, first language, etc. Foster curiosity about people around you: who do they love? What do they need to flourish? How can you help them breathe freely in a world that seeks to limit their liberty? How can they help you breathe freely?
And on a societal level this Eastertide, let us be mindful of where and when and how liberation is needed. During Lent, we saw far too many states threatening the rights of our transgender siblings through bans on drag shows and limitations on marriage equality. We witnessed environmental dangers in oil spills, train wrecks, new drilling in Alaska, and more. We heard about numerous efforts to ban books and limit curriculum taught in public schools. The threat of fascism is no longer just an amorphous threat—and if we’re honest, it hasn’t been for a while—fascism has sunk its teeth into the USAmerican project, into the “American dream,” into the fabric of our society, and it is pulling taut the ties that bind us. What will we do, to proclaim liberation to the captives of this ideology? What will we do to pursue freedom for those imprisoned and detained at the borders, for those seeking to live openly as their whole selves, for those living in fear of identity-based violence? How can we be agents of God’s love and peace in a world that is increasingly showing its vulnerability to forces and powers that threaten “the least of these”?
Friends, almost every time I preach I end with a benediction from William Sloane Coffin, edited slightly by the pastors who passed it down to me. In the benediction, I say: “May God give you grace not to sell yourselves short/ Grace to risk something big for something good/ Grace to remember that the world is now too dangerous for anything but truth, and too small for anything but love.” And I believe that. Don’t sell yourselves short—you are capable of so much, dear ones. Together we can risk something big for something good—as a community following the Way of Jesus, we have a higher risk tolerance together than we do alone. What is the good thing we will take risks for? Let us speak truth—it is too dangerous to give voice and ear to speculation, lies, gossip, and surface-level platitudes. And let us always put love into the world—love through care and compassion, through listening, through holding those in power accountable, through looking at ourselves honestly and openly and loving ourselves and those around us enough to change our biases and assumptions. Love is worth it, so let us love each other and love the Creation that is our common home.
I love you and I love being your pastor.
Rev. Anita