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We've Already Started to Sing

We've Already Started to Sing

Who said, “Elementary, my dear Watson”?


Sherlock Holmes, right?


Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But we’re wrong. Although he occasionally said, “Elementary,” and was often talking to Watson, Sherlock Holmes never utters that famous phrase in any of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novels about the brilliant  detective.


Who coined the phrase, “There’s a sucker born every minute?”


P.T. Barnum.


Nope. There’s no evidence that he ever said that at all.


How about: “The ends justify the means”?


Machiavelli.


You would think so, but again no.


What about: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” I always thought it was Voltaire, but it was actually a biographer of his, Evelyn Beatrice Hall, who summed up Voltaire’s overall opinion of free speech with that phrase.


Einstein, Lincoln, Mark Twain, even poor Marie Antoinette, are all regularly associated with things they never actually said about reality, humanity, … cake.


And there are innumerable phrases - from the “Journey of a thousand miles beginning with a single step,” to that one about "one small step for man being a giant leap for mankind” - that we have subtly altered over the years, whether we know it or not.


Turns out a quick google search of famous misquotes and false attributions will have you questioning the accuracy of every inspirational poster, pithy coffee mug, and clever meme you have ever laid eyes on, which isn’t such a bad thing. It never hurts to double check your sources.


And in the case of today’s Bible reading, it may even be an instructive thing. Because you see, when Jesus stood up to read from the scroll of Isaiah, he was either reading from a slightly different translation or he was editing on the fly in an effort to get his audience to pay attention and maybe teach us all a thing or two.


Go ahead and take a closer look at verses 18-19 in your program while I read you the actual quote from the prophet Isaiah:

  


It’s a little different, isn’t it. Jesus changes the word oppressed to poor. He adds the phrase, “recovery of sight to the blind.” He doubles down on releasing the captives with a line about liberty for prisoners. But most significantly, to me at least, he drops the last line entirely. What did you not hear in Jesus’ proclamation that you heard in my reading from Isaiah?


Yeah; he leaves out the line about God’s vengeance.


Jesus has come to preach good news to the poor. Jesus has come to heal and release us from that which harms and hampers us, to proclaim the year of jubilee -which is all about canceling debt by the way - but not to exact vengeance.


Jesus has not come to threaten those in power or intimidate anyone with images of an angry God who will get them if they don’t do what is right. He has come to make peace, spread hope, and set us free.


And I have to tell you, I’ve been thinking about this so much since Monday’s inauguration. I’ve been thinking about it because whether you voted for this administration or not, we all knew what was coming because we’ve all been here before.


We knew that this administration would go after the most vulnerable people amongst us: immigrants and asylum seekers, LGBTQ people - but most especially the trans community, BIPOC people and the marginal gains we have made in our attempts to dismantle a culture built on white supremacy, women with the courage to speak up for their rights to bodily autonomy and basic human dignity, and our poor earth that is crying out for our protection from us.


We all knew this and he proved us right before he even left the rotunda.


We all knew this, and yet the white hot outrage that propelled so many of us into the streets with pussy hats and placards has seemingly gone out. We’re not a week into this presidency and I can tell you as a card carrying member of the resistance that everyone I know is already - not just tired, but honestly at a bit of a loss.

I think our hearts are broken because we love our country and our neighbors and the whole idea of democracy, and yet our country and our neighbors and our democracy are what have brought us to this place.


We are dis-heartened because some part of us needs to accept and respect this reality even as we know we still have to do all we can to mitigate the damage. It is a tricky and exhausting reality to navigate from the get go, so I understand why people are more muted in their response this time around.


I think it is telling that the most forceful pushback this president has faced thus far has not come from millions amassing on the national mall, but from a soft-spoken bishop lovingly speaking truth to power in the national cathedral.


It has not come from crowds of activists amassing at the border or the airports or our public squares, but from cool headed lawyers quietly filing injunctions against the unconstitutionality of his very first executive orders.


And as scared and activated as I am inside, I have to tell you that I think a more muted response is okay in this moment. Maybe not for the entirety of these next four years, but I think it’s okay for right now.


I think this is the time to take a page out of Jesus’ playbook and reassess the most effective way to do the work he is calling us into- the work of lifting up the poor and the oppressed, the work of healing and liberation.


In fact the good news I feel called to bring you today is that we have already begun.


I want to reassure you that resistance can take many forms.


No we didn’t rush out to protest on Monday. Instead, in honor of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., we channeled our energy in a very different way. We opened our doors and we invited everyone who was feeling left out or disenfranchised or fearful to come on in.




In the morning, we hosted well over 100 people who came to speak up for Gaza or learn more about reparations.


From 1-4pm, I sat in a circle of 40 people and learned all about Non-violent Civil Disobedience. And I’ll tell you that what I thought would be a workshop all about techniques and advice on how to handle getting arrested or how to stand up to people and keep your calm in the face of abuse, turned into a deeply powerful opportunity to explore what we value and believe in.


We spent the time focused more on what we are for than who we are against. Sure we practiced forming lines of protesters and counter protesters and did our best to rattle each other or withstand being rattled. But we learned pretty quickly that a protest is no place for discussion or debate.


We learned that you’re not going to convince people with violence or force or facts to change their minds. And honestly the dignity and humanity of our neighbors - no matter their race, religion, orientation, gender expression, country of origin, or circumstance - should never even be up for debate.


What we really learned is that when push comes to shove and you’re out there on the line, all you can really do is show people what your love looks like. If someone out there doesn’t believe that my neighbor’s life matters than I’ve got to get them out of their head and into their heart and the best way to do that is for me to act as if my neighbor matters.


Which means showing up for my neighbor, standing in solidarity with my neighbor, holding the line for my neighbor, getting to know and actively contribute to the welfare of my neighbor.


It reminds me of that wonderful saying of Father Richard Rohr: “The best criticism of the bad is the practice of the better.”


I learned that telling my opponent to change - even in the most clever or compelling way possible - most likely won’t change them. Nor will getting the better of my opponent, intimidating my opponent or, God forbid, exacting vengeance on my opponent. Chances are, it will only harden them more.


But showing my opponent with my calm, grounded, centered body that there is a better way to live and love by living and loving that way myself and inviting them to simply see me…that is powerful. And that is a way to make change.


I not only learned that on Monday, that is what we were doing all day around here as we gathered, as we worked together and prayed together and then ate a glorious community meal together with members of Congregation B’Nai Israel, the folks who came out to march for Gaza, the Reparations Commission, the Truth School, people from St. John’s and the UU Society, representatives from Transrelocate, and good people from all over the valley.


I sat with a member of Transrelocate who told me that they never thought they would step foot in a church ever again when they came North from Nashville, Tennessee. And yet here they were, eating dinner in Lyman Hall across from 3 pastors, learning that the faith community here is an essential ally in the work they care so deeply about.


And then, with Jenna and Jenny (God bless you both) overseeing the clean up in Lyman Hall, the rest of us filed into this sanctuary to find it already full of people who had refused to sit home in despair but had instead come out to sing.


“Be the change you want to see in the world…and love will come to you”


“Love is love is love is love…”


“Ain't gonna let nobody turn me ‘round….”


We sang and we laughed and we cried and we sang some more. A queer Jewish song leader taught us a song by a queer Jewish activist and I sat here in awe as over 400 people of many faiths and none sang:







In hope, In prayer

We find ourselves here

In hope, In prayer

We're right here

And we rise

Up from the wreckage

Rise,

With tears and with courage

Rise,

Fighting for life

We rise


It gave me goosebumps.


But, even more importantly, it gave me hope.


Loryn Brantz, in her poem, “Inauguration 2025,” writes:


In a time of hate

Love is an act of resistance

In a time of fear

Faith is an act of resistance

In a time of misinformation

Education is an act of resistance

In a time of poor leadership

Community is an act of resistance

In a time like this

Joy is an act of resistance.

Resist. Resist. Resist.


What we did on Monday, was an act of resistance and it worked and it mattered and it made a difference. So much so, that as I sat there toward the end of the night a song came to mind.





Rebecca wanted to close with “This Land is Your Land,” and that was the perfect note to end on.  But all the hope and energy and love that was nurtured and stoked and banked in my heart that night reminded me of a song that encapsulates the beauty and power of what we did on Monday and what we will do together in the days ahead.


We are going

to a place where music

falls and fills up everything

and though it might be a long time

I know it’s gonna be alright

cause we’ve already started to sing.


We started to sing on Monday and First Churches, we’re not going to stop.


We’re going to keep singing and we’re going to keep showing up and we’re going to keep loving one another until it is alright… alright for you and for me… alright for every last one of God’s children….alright for us all.


Let us pray…

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