This is my personal website. The thoughts here reflect my own, and not those of my employers, unless they overlap.
The title of the blog came from Sister Joanne Frania, a spiritual director I saw for a short time. During one of our sessions, I was lamenting about identity in ministry. During it, she blurted out, “what do you expect, you’re just George, George of Sylvania.” At some point I knew I’d restart a blog and I had found the perfect title.
This is a space where I’ll drop ideas about religion, poetry, or whatever thing I’m writing about. Mostly religion though, as I work in a professional religious setting.
A little about me, best I am infrequent blogger, and it’s been that way for years. It will most likely stay that way. I’m a suburban dad that lives in an affluent part of Northwest Ohio, with his family and three cats. Privilege is something I recognize and try to use mine to support others.
Black lives matter.
Trans lives matter.
LGBTQIA+ support is not a negotiation.
Abortion is healthcare.
God loves everyone, no exceptions.
I’m George of Sylvania and this is my dumping ground, welcome.
Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” – Matthew 3:13-17(NRSV)
This past Sunday, Episcopalians across the world reaffirmed our baptismal covenants as we celebrated the Baptism of Jesus. For me, it is always a special occasion when I get to stand with my fellow faith siblings to say out loud who we are, how we show up, and who we hope to be in God’s creation. However, there is something about this passage that has stuck in my crawl for years. In verse 6 it states, “and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.” At one point I wrote a series of blog posts I can no longer find about Jesus attending and participating in a baptism for the forgiveness of sins as it states in Mark 1:4 and implied here in Matthew. It is something I had never hear about in church, and I seemed to gloss over in my readings.
Having grown up evangelical in America, there are some hooks that are still in you that you are unaware of, and for me this was one of them. I cannot imagine how many times I had heard that Jesus was a the only perfect human to live, sinless in every way, which is part of the reason why he “didn’t need training” to preach, teach, and make disciples. But after reading these passages and letting it sit I had a few questions.
If Jesus was sinless and perfect, then why participate in such a baptism?
If Jesus participated in this type of baptism in good faith and not needing it, wouldn’t that make him a bad person?
If Jesus didn’t need to be baptized because of his stance with God, then why did he do it?
I drove myself around in circles with this, and argued about it whenever I got the opportunity because I wanted answers that were satisfying. In her book, The Immerser: John the Baptist within Second Temple Judaism, Joan E. Taylor writes on page 262:
That Jesus was baptized by John has been a problem almost form the beginning of Christianity, and not only because his being baptized indicated that he might have been subordinate to John. Jesus apparently turned away from sin and, as Michael Grant notes, this “set the theologians of subsequent centuries a conundrum. For how could Jesus have been baptized for the forgiveness of his own sins, when according to the Christology which developed after his death, he was divine and therefore sinless?” Often the solution is given that he wished to humble himself by participating with the sinful in this important ritual. As A.M. Hunter has stated: “He [Jesus] discerned the hand of God in John’s mission, and by His acceptance of John’s baptism identified Himself with the people whom He came to Save.” Some scholars have sought to deny that John ever baptized Jesus…
[In the Gospel of Matthew 3:14-15] Jesus comes forward to be immersed, but John tries to prevent him and says, “I need to be immersed by you, and you come to me? Jesus calmly reassures him, “let it be so for now, for it is right for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.’ Jesus therefore does the decent thing, but he does not really need to do it.”
When I read that for the first time I just sat and scratched my head. Then I read it again.
And again.
And again.
And, yet, again.
Finally, it started to sink in for me personally, that it does not really matter why Jesus was baptized, sin or no sin. What matters in the end is that Jesus did the decent thing. Following his call, Jesus did what was right. This argument that I had developed within myself, and thought so much rode on did not matter, because at the end of the day, it was an excuse to keep Jesus at arm’s length.
It is the same argument we always make to get out of doing the decent thing, that we are sinners, or are prone to fail and mess up. When we do that, we keep the Jesus of the gospels at arm’s length.
When we yell at our kids and don’t apologize, we keep Jesus at arm’s length.
When we spend time bickering on social media about how we are right and “they” are wrong, we keep Jesus at arm’s length.
When we standards that are supposed to be universal, but we make exceptions for people because we like what they stand for, we keep Jesus at arm’s length.
When we see injustice in the world and wait for someone else to act or say something, we keep Jesus at arm’s length.
When we ignore the plight of our fellow image bearers living in Palestine, Yemen, Congo, and Sudan, we keep Jesus at arm’s length.
On Thursday and Sunday of last week, I attended two protests to abolish ICE. I am compelled by my faith to act in times of injustice when innocent people are killed. In the same way I am compelled every Sunday morning to wake up early and cook food for the unhoused and marginalized. It is the everyday act of doing the decent thing where we can be the hands, feet, and voice (at times) of God in a world where it is so easy to choose hatred, or as I have seen it lately, “intolerance.”
By walking the path and getting covered in the dusty road of Jesus’ teachings, may we find the decent way to be in the times when others need to be served before ourselves.
There must be someone in every age who can tell the faith community, and society at large, Your first egoic glance at life–and God– is largely wrong! And it is largely engendered by fear.”
– Fr. Richard Rohr
I started reading Father Richard Rohr when I was still a reluctant evangelical. It was during the reconstructing of my faith phase where I picked up Falling Upward. If I remember correctly, I had either heard him on a Rob Bell Robcast, or a recommendation from my friend Adam. This book drove me to a place of openness not just about his work, but to my approach of God. While I laugh to myself now about being concerned reading a catholic priests book, the idea of approaching God and others at the time with love over dogma/theological treaties, coming from a Roman Catholic priest, was mind blowing.
In October, I had just finished presiding over a memorial service for a friend when a woman I consider a prophet in our times approached me with a book. We had shared this bizarre end of life journey together with this mutual friend, and given she is a close to 90 year old spiritual director, I tend to listen when she has something to say. It was Richard Rohr’s new book, The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage. The book was accompanied by a card, and part of what she wrote inside said, “I think this may be of interest since Rohr’s contemplating and acting is much of who you are.”
The amount that this card and her thoughts touched me, I cannot properly describe, however, I am still touched by it. Especially since I have now enjoyed Fr. Rohr’s work for well over a decade. Each one of his books build on one another, but for me this one takes the cake. The place of a modern prophet is something I have struggled with, especially considering how most of American Christianity treats the concept of one.
This book is scratching that itch in a way I never thought possible. For quite a while, I have adopted a mantra a friend of mine introduced me to, which is, “the status quo is a bully.”As I am deep in editing my next book, which is a call for peacemaking, I spend time talking about standing against the status quo. So when I read this quote from Rohr’s new book, I had to sit in silence for a moment.
“We have spent the centuries and millennia since constructing the same kinds of self-serving power centers that Jesus and the prophets denounced, and most of us are resigned to this status quo.” pg. 22
Structures and systems exist for a reason, and some of these are good. Some continue to uphold the system for the sake of the system, because we have to keep the system in place to uphold the status quo.
Any “normal” way of business that continues to keep people in states of marginalization and oppression are not “normal” or “moral.”
The want or need to have power over another person is not a “normal” or “moral.”
The federal level of government and how it has treated people in the United States may have been “normalized” over the centuries, it has never been “moral.”
The kidnapping of American citizens is not “normal.”
Abducting heads of foreign states is not “normal” especially when we are not at war is not “normal.”
Friends, look for and listen to the prophets in your life who are calling for the liberation of the oppressed.
Look for the ones who remind us that, as Rohr writes, “we like our illusions, we like having enemies, and we are quite accustomed to our wars and prejudices as much as we insist the contrary.”
Look for the ones calling for leading with love, and accountability for those who have been wronged.
I enjoy reading, a lot. I do not care if it is physical, digital, or audio, books are a constant companion in my life. To the point where I have averaged reading about 73 a year since I started tracking them in 2020.
I just love the concept of them, how words can contain multitudes of worlds. The smell of them, the thrill of finding one you’ve been looking for. This is not always a relationship I have had with them. Growing up I also liked the idea of them, I would read almost any of the Great Illustrated Classics I could get a hold of. As someone with a reading disorder, that was incredibly embarrassing, those classics were perfect for me. Every other page was an illustration, and it helped immerse me in the story.
The only books I remember reading that was required in high school were A Tale of Two Cities (which I love) and A Catcher in the Rye (which I hate). When I joined the navy, I spent time out to sea reading in the tower I worked in, and would get through maybe a book a month. Then I found out about audio books, which started my practice of purchasing two copies, one to listen to, one to mark up and use for rereading/bettering comprehension.
As my interest in theology deepened so did my insistence on reading physical copies of books. This allowed me to destroy whatever book was in my path; underlining, writing in the margins, dog-earing, whatever. I still do this, then pull out whatever half filled moleskin I thought would fix me to start writing the ideas and thoughts that came with whatever I had just read.
During the pandemic, my wife encouraged me to try out more fiction, which was something I did not really want to do. Do not get me wrong, I was not taking an elitist position, it was just that fiction wasn’t something I liked outside of my comic books or graphic novels. At the time I just preferred to read non-fiction or theology if I was going to dedicate the time to picking up a book. I wanted to learn something true about the universe/world/life/whatever, if I was giving up anywhere from 5-12 hours of my time. It was when I started back to school to finish my bachelors degree, and after we had our kid that I took her advice.
I was so wrong for waiting so long.
With all of that in mind, please enjoy the top 25 books I read in 2025. These are listed in no particular order, and over the next year I will be posting about each one individually. Some posts may be long, some will be short, but in the dark time we find ourselves in where Americans are being abducted by masked police, a white kid who has no business podcasting are trying to break into daycare’s, and abducting a leader of a foreign country, sometimes a book recommendation will help provide some balm to the soul.
Operation Paperclip: The Secret Intelligence Program that Brought Nazi Scientists to America by Annie Jacobsen
The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine by Ilan Pappé
We Uyghurs Have No Voice: An Imprisoned Writer Speaks by Ilham Tohti
Katabasis by R.F. Kuang
The Bible Told Them So: How Southern Evangelicals Fought to Preserve White Supremacy by J. Russell Hawkins
Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica
Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland by Christopher R. Browning
Monk and Robot: A Psalm for the Wild Built and A Prayer for the Crown Shy by Becky Chambers
One Day Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This
Nuclear War: A Scenario by Annie Jacobs
The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness by Gregory Boyle
Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman
Ring Shout by P. Djéli Clark
The Trees by Percival Everette
The Bone and Sinew of the Land: America’s Forgotten Black Pioneers & the Struggle for Equality by Anna-Lisa Cox
The Burning: The Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921 by Tim Madigan
The Color of Compromise: The Truth about the American Church’s Complicity in Racism by Jemar Tisby
The Black Wolf by Louise Penny
Coming Up Short: A Memoir of My America by Robert B. Reich
Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery by BROM
Erasing History: How Fascists Rewrite the Past to Control the Future by Jason Stanley
The Message by Ta-Nehisi Coates
King of Ashes by S.A. Cosby
Bringing the War Home: The White Power Movement and Paramilitary America by Kathleen Belew
Twilight of Democracy: The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism by Anne Applebaum
Hello friends, and happy new year! What a weird and interesting post for the first one, but here we are. As you may know, the United States decided to abduct the President and First Lady of Venezuela. President Trump also said that U.S. oil companies will be taking over Venezuela’s oil.
As an Episcopalian, I thought I’d widely share the official statement on what has happened. You can read it more on the church’s stances here.
The people of The Episcopal Church offer prayers for our beloved siblings in Christ in the Episcopal Diocese of Venezuela, and for people across the region following this morning’s U.S. military operation that removed President Nicolás Maduro.
Episcopalians in Venezuela carry out vital ministries in increasingly challenging conditions, and we fear for their well-being and their church community if these military interventions, and any form of U.S. occupation, lead to more instability and violence. Episcopal Church Center staff have spoken with and offered support to the Rt. Rev. Cristobal León Lozano, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Ecuador Litoral and bishop provisional of Venezuela; the Rt. Rev. Lloyd Allen, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Honduras and president of Province IX; and to standing committee leadership.
The Episcopal Church’s General Convention has long-standing policy that “condemn[s] in any nation the first use of armed force in the form of a preventive or pre-emptive strike that is aimed at disrupting a non-imminent, uncertain military threat.” Even as we recognize that intervention in sovereign states can sometimes be necessary to prevent atrocities, we discourage “the abuse of this norm to rationalize military actions in sovereign states for political ends.”
We urge Congress to call for an investigation and accountability for this most recent unauthorized operation, as well as the related military actions carried out in recent months. We urge all regional parties to support a peaceful transition that respects the rule of law and the will of the Venezuelan people. Join us in praying for our siblings in the Diocese of Venezuela and the Venezuelan people.
I wrote and submitted this as an op-ed, but decided to release it here as well because it is important.
The Ohio State House is attempting to pass House Bill 486, and it should cause us concern. If passed, this bill would allow for educators in state sponsored higher education and public schools to discuss Christianity’s positive influence on culture and history in America. This proposed act also includes examples talking points to be used classrooms, as historical examples and not alleged proselytization. However, the examples in this proposal read as a complete whitewash of American history which does a severe disservice not only to students and educators, but the accuracy of Christianity’s influence in the United States of America.
The influence, whether positive or negative, that Christianity has had on American lives past and present, should be left to religious professionals to teach. To think that an educator can only talk about the positive influence and can willfully ignore the historical stance of white Americans using religion to maintain slavery, segregation, and anti-LGBTQIA+ stances is morally and ethically wrong. And, unfortunately, that is not the only moral issue in this act.
The co-sponsors of this bill have an agenda with which we should be uncomfortable. On the surface, this bill unequivocally pushes the talking points of christian nationalism. A popular movement in this country that, at its core, is antithetical to the Gospel. If we want to talk about the impacts of Christianity in history, we must do so in an unbiased and truthful way, and these conversations should be led by those qualified to do so. Not by someone that holds a degree from a bible college, which is one degree I hold, but from an unbiased institution.
The miseducation of Christian influence on a country that refuses to reconcile its sin of slavery and the mistreatment of Indigenous peoples at best could only lead to prolonged ignorance, and at worse, political or religious based violence. I encourage everyone to call upon their reps and advise against voting for this bill, especially Rep. Josh Williams, who is a co-sponsor. Now is not a time to stay silent, and it is our job to let our representatives know we do not want HB-486 to pass.
To contact OH D41 Rep Erika White, click here. To contact OH D42 Rep Elgin Rogers Jr., click here. To contact OH D43 Rep Michele Grim, click here. To contact OH D44 Rep Josh Williams, click here.
Friends, this is my sermon from this past Sunday on a passage from Luke. If you prefer to watch, you can watch above, it starts at the 24 minute mark-ish. While I go off script in the video, you can read below my notes for the morning of.
This is a good parable. Jesus is tossing out some, what I would call, weird for the day theological ideas, but it’s good. This is one of those passages I would really like to spend time digesting and getting pretty nerdy with you all. Starting with how the afterlife as a concept or belief was one held on to by the Pharisees, or how the rich guy is buried, and Lazarus died and is taken away by angels.
This sermon has gone through many drafts, which is normal, but the content has changed quite a bit. In fact, in hindsight was a joke, I asked Father Jon if he wanted to read what I was confident my final draft on Tuesday. However, as I was working to finalize this, this week, I kept growing increasingly unsettled, not just by the content but by ridiculously relevant it is. In fact, I completely re-wrote it last night after 8pm. Through the Gospels, there are times when Jesus tells a parable and the disciples have no idea what he is talking about, but not here.
There is an assumption I find with most Christians I speak to, and that is, speaking broadly, everything in the New Testament is applicable to them. While you can make the argument, what I would like you all to think about is, does. This parable apply to you or us? If it does not, how are we as readers and followers meant to hear it and interact with it? Hold onto those thoughts as we live out this week and let me know your thoughts.
Lazarus is a man who is poor, a beggar, who lives most of his time outside of a very rich man’s house. Lazarus is so down, dogs lick his open sores, and he cannot do anything about it. There is a lot that we can know about this very rich man by the description, and I am going to nickname him now. Since Lazarus gets a name so does this guy, how about… Elon Musk? I originally had another in mind, but Jon+ threw this out this week, and I decided to run with it.
So, Musk wears purple gowns, throws daily banquets, and most likely parties with his family. Musk also does not celebrate the sabbath, which means all who work for Musk do not get the time off required for their religious beliefs. Not only that, but they also get no rest, and I’m sure their pay isn’t great as well. Musk also does not care about Lazarus who is laying right outside his gate.
In his book, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes, theologian Kenneth E. Bailey points out just how rich Musk is according to this parable:
“He also wore ‘fine linen.’ The word in Greek is busses, which transliterates the Hebrew word butz, which, in turn, refers to the quality Egyptian cotton used for the best underwear… This man not only had expensive outer robes, but in case anyone was interested, he also wore fine quality underwear.”[1]
Musk, in this story, is committing the same sin that God destroyed the city of Sodom over in Genesis. Hording exuberant wealth and not caring for those in need, whether they are neighbors, or those outside of the gates of their property. But we see how it turns out for Musk and Lazarus, and for Lazarus, who is the only person ever named in a parable, and his name means, “one God helps” turns out okay.
You could not get more opposite of the class hierarchy than these two, which is interesting because Baily offers another tidbit in his book. A sort of way to let the rich man off the hook, that I do not agree with. He writes:
“…it is easy to survive by developing compassion fatigue. Beggars are ever present. There are so many of them. One’s resources are limited. Finally, one doesn’t notice anymore. Compassion fatigue becomes a way to cope and a strategy for survival. Perhaps this is what happened to the rich man.”[2]
I completely agree that compassion fatigue is a real thing, and I have experienced it myself. Anyone who has worked in social justice efforts can I am sure relate. But compassion fatigue exists because our society, at almost all levels would rather uphold systems and structures that keep people oppressed then help liberate them. Those who vote for the budget cuts, and believe the lie that anyone, no matter what they are born into have the same chance of pulling themselves up by their bootstraps do not realize they are stuck in the same hole as us.
It is not compassion fatigue that caused Musk to ignore Lazarus, but the status quo. When the world allows for, according to a Forbes article from February of this year, in the USA 71.2% of the wealth is held by the top 10% in the country. Musk doesn’t help the poor because he has compassion fatigue.
Baily continues, “Lazarus was sick, hungry, and covered with sores. But his deepest suffering was psychic. Traditional Middle Eastern villages are geographically tightly compacted. The gate at which Lazarus lay was certainly within easy earshot of the daily sumptuous banquets of the rich man. Only a few feet from Lazarus a group of overfed men” in designer underwear… “while Lazarus lay hungry and in pain, listening to their conversation. Those same men passed him every day as they entered and left the rich man’s house. They didn’t need the food—he did. Help was always near at hand yet withheld from him.”[5]
In this parable, like in life, there is no economic justice, and because of this beggars, the unhoused, will always be with us. When Jesus says that the poor will always be with us, this is what he is talking about. Because we do not live in a just society, we will always have those in need. Back in May, myself, and Trinity Response Team members Becky Koskienen, Mark Dubielak, and Phil Skeldon went to Washington DC to lobby our representatives into a more just world. This meant asking them to vote against the Big Beautiful Bill. Instead of chasing compassion and justice, our Ohio senators chose to support the status quo and give men in our parable more money.
If you have been watching the news or have been on social media in the past few weeks, we have seen it in the coverage of Christian nationalist Charlie Kirk’s death, memorial service, and fallout. His fans are attempting to prop him up like a modern martyr for his faith, and how the gospel was shared in such an impactful way because of his death. But I’m sure I am not the only one that sees the lie in it all.
When there is no room for Lazarus at the celebration, there is no room for the Gospel.
The question I asked at the beginning of this was, does this parable apply to you, and if not, how are we as readers/listeners/followers of Jesus supposed to interact with this. If anyone here had the wealth gap between Lazarus and Musk, I would be surprised you’re still a member.
This parable is supposed to shake us out of apathy and into advocacy.
This parable is why Trinity works hard to develop ministries like Breakfast at Trinity. Sure, Lazarus needed the food, but he isn’t the focus of this story. Musk is the focus. This parable is the Christmas Carol without the three ghosts changing Scrooges mind!
Breakfast at Trinity doesn’t exist solely for feeding the people, but we borrow from our forbears of that space to nourish body and soul. There are a number of people who can make their own food and have the means to, but they are all weary. Musk, in this parable, is weary, but he doesn’t know a better way exists.
All Musk knows is the status quo, which are the systems that keep him in place to be that rich, and isolated.
Like water dripping on a stone, the Gospel breaks through everything and everyone. But sometimes, we need to be like Jesus and point that out for people who are unaware of how bad it is out there.
[1] Bailey, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes, pg. 382
[2] Bailey, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes, pg. 382/383
A few weeks ago I passed a uniquely American parental milestone: I dropped my child off at preschool after a mass shooting where two children were murdered. This, of course, was the shooting in Minneapolis at Annunciation Catholic School where kids were murdered during their chapel service. Some of you may have seen the clip of the kid talking about his friend Victor that protected him from the shooting, and Victor was struck in the back. I have been an outspoken advocate for tighter gun laws for years, and the fear at drop off that something *could* happen was horrifying.
Just another day in America.
Of course last week there were two school shootings, one in Colorado where a few kids were injured. Then there was the one in Utah were a christian nationalist podcaster was killed in front of a group of people, that has set the country on fire, as he was a divisive person that had no problem perpetuating racist, misogynistic, and homophobic rhetoric. But considering that is the current brand of conservatism in this country, it is no surprise they are trying to make a martyr out of him. Finally, Trey Reed, a young black man, was found hung from a tree near his college in Mississippi with no fowl play suspected somehow.
Just another week in America.
Two mass shootings in an unhoused encampment, again, in Minneapolis where 13 people are injured which comes on the heels of f*x news anchor Brian Kilmeade suggested euthanizing the unhoused. Of course nothing is going to happen to Kilmeade, even though real news reporters have lost their jobs for pointing out the podcaster who was killed spoke hatefully.
Another week in Ameri— wait, it’s only Wednesday.
At times like this, I return to a book written by Krister Stendahl called, The Roots of Violence: Creating Peace through Spiritual Reconciliation. In this section, he wrote about the political assassinations of the 60’s, people trying to make political change for the good, not like the guy we’ve seen in the news lately. While I do not believe there is room for political violence in this world, I understand it is here. Unfortunately, pointing out the hypocrisy of those calling for it to end, that continue to actively oppress people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, women, you name it, will do nothing but fall on deaf ears or echo chambers. So instead, I leave you with the words of Stendhal:
“We are surrounded by mass assassinations and executions, deeds that we call “terrorist” if others do them and “defense” if we do them. There is torture, which some people try to dress up by saying that it is not so bad if it is done by authoritarians, but it is bad when it is done by totalitarian. But the thumbscrews feel the same no matter who puts them on.”
– pg. 15, Roots of Violence
Stay safe, and watch out for one another. Grace and peace.
About six months ago, I purchased a bottle of Absinthe because, for some unknown reason, I thought it was a good idea. It had been at least a decade since I had tried it, and it did not go down very well. The wormwood in the drink, if you have never had it, leaves an incredibly bitter taste in your mouth if you don’t mix the properly. The other day, as I sat drinking my morning coffee, I was wondering what mixture of mouthwash/seltzer water/whatever I had that is now leaving this similar taste in my mouth.
That’ll flavor combination will wake you up.
As I am sipping this, I have been working my way through the prophet Amos in my morning quiet time. This reading of the prophet has been compounding some outlying frustration. A genocide has been broadcasting in real time, in spite of murdering journalists, in Palestine for those of us paying attention. Children, and people of all ages have been intentionally starved, and the footage of it will leave a mark. Kids, and others, have been murdered while waiting in line for water, food, etc. The intentional cruelty, and war crimes committed is an abomination.
So reading through Amos, seeing this massacre play out in real time over the past 18 months and all of it taking place in the region the prophet is talking about has brought a new flavor to the text. For about a week, Amos 5:7 (NIV) has had its claws in me, “There are those who turn justice into bitterness and cast righteousness to the ground.” I have been meditating on this, and it has like a stick in my craw, but I couldn’t figure out why.
There is the obvious tug at what Amos is saying on face value, but I decided to check out the Apostolic Polyglot, an interlinear literal Greek-English of the Christian Bible. When I read it, and it made no sense, I looked to the New Oxford Annotated Bible. It is just a fancier version of the New Revised Standard Version, which reads:
“Ah, you that turn justice to wormwood, and bring righteousness to the ground!”
There it is, the stick in my craw.
The verse in the New International Version was too nice for me. Bitterness can be a variety of things. I love lemons, and they can be bitter as hell. But you know what, wormwood will make almost anyone gag!
Every time we read or see what has been happening in Palestine, Sudan, and to the Uyghurs, we should taste wormwood in our mouths.
Every time we read about those fighting against releasing the Epstein client list, we should taste wormwood in our mouths.
Every time we see another mass shooting in the news, we should taste wormwood in our mouths.
Every time we see or hear reports of ICE agents snatching people off of the streets, we should taste wormwood in our mouths.
Every time we see military personnel being mobilized against citizens, we should taste wormwood in our mouths.
In fascism, there is no peace. There is no peace without reconciliation. There is no reconciliation without justice. There is no justice in attempting to control others. Control is void of love, and without love, God can be incredibly difficult to find.
It may seem like nothing, but speaking about what is going on may help wake people up. Going on the record and contacting your representatives is called slow activism for a reason, but it is worth doing. If you have not tried 5 Calls yet, follow the link, and use it for good.
Everyone has to start somewhere, and I hope the bitter taste in your mouth that the Trump administration has helped bring about in the past eight months spurs you into action.
Wood engraving of the Haymarket Riot by Thure de Thulstrup, published in Harper’s Weekly on May 15, 1886
Every week my church releases an e-newsletter that starts with a section called “dear friends.” This is usually a letter written by a rotating crew of people focused on something happening around the church community, or has recently occurred. This week I had the pleasure of writing about Labor Day. The following is that section:
Dear friends,
It is Labor Day Weekend, which means the church office is closed Monday, and will re-open on Tuesday. While this is a time for rest, hopeful relaxation, and a nice cookout, it is important to remember how we got here. Labor Day wasn’t a federal holiday until 1894, when President Grover Cleveland signed it into law. While we now recognize this weekend as a time where summer ends, and school begins, it is something so much more. It is a time we remember the blood that was shed by union leaders to bring about fair working conditions, and to remove power from the few, the all. From the Haymarket Affair in 1886 and the Pullman Strike in 1894, to our own autoworkers in Toledo and the Libby Glass strike that started this past week, standing up for the rights of workers remains a justice issue.
In the words of Dorothy Day, the infamous Catholic Worker leader, I offer up a prayer she wrote while praying at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, “I offered up a special prayer, a prayer which came with tears and with anguish, that some way would open up for me to use that talents I possessed for my fellow workers, for the poor.”
This week flyers for the knights of the klu klux klan was found scattered around in Norwalk Ohio, and according to the news story from 13ABC Toledo (which you can watch by clicking here), this is the second time in a few months this has happened.
I have been relatively quiet on the writing front even though there has been much to say. There is so much shit going on, I haven’t known where to start, so here are four things that have happened since I posted my last sermon:
President Trump has occupied Washington DC with armed National Guard personnel, including those from my own state of Ohio. (Click here)
President Trump decided to comb through the Smithsonian and remake history in his image. (Click here)
The concentration camp Alligator Alcatraz has opened up, and is on its third attempt to stay open. (Click here)
Don’t get me started on the Epstein list. Everyone on it needs to be arrested.
Israel continues to commit war crimes against Palestinians killing journalists, people trying to get food, and mass amounts of children. (Click here)
And now, I pull open the news to see KKK flyers in my neck of the woods, while having sifted through conservative hate messages and comments targeted at my place of worship for our incredible presence at Toledo Pride. In addition to that, a friend of mine shared a first hand account with me of racists trying to instigate a fight at a baby shower.
This year the state of Ohio passed our version of the Parents Bill of Rights, and kids are being introduced to Lifewise Academy during their school hours at their parents permission. Lifewise is a christian nationalist curriculum and should have no place in public schools. The flyer found in Norwalk has a line written on it that says, “stop attacking our christian values.” Any religion that puts national values first, and upholds whiteness is void of Jesus’ love.
Full stop.
I’d say it is not that hard, but it is because following the call of Jesus costs us, it costs everyone.
Jesus’ love is not found in exclusion, but inclusion.
Jesus’ love is nowhere near white power, because Jesus remains with the powerless.
Jesus’ love casts out hate, and emboldens righteous indignation surrounding those on the margins (see table flipping, sermon on the mount, etc.).
To paraphrase Matthew 6:24 you cannot love and seek power, you cannot love and seek money, you cannot love and uphold whiteness, and serve Jesus at the same time.
Keep an eye on each other, it’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.
George of Sylvania 