Proper18C, Sunday, September 7, 2025
There’s no place in this world where I’ll belong
when I’m gone
And I won’t know the right from the wrong
when I’m gone
And you won’t find me singin’ on this song
when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here.
Phil Ochs 1966
The word of God came to Jeremiah
At any moment I may decide to pull up a people or a country by the roots and get rid of them. But if they repent of their wicked lives, I will think twice and start over with them. At another time I might decide to plant a people or country, but if they don’t cooperate and won’t listen to me, I will think again and give up on the plans I had for them.
So, tell the people of Judah and the citizens of Jerusalem my Message: ‘Danger! I’m shaping doom against you, laying plans against you. Turn back from your doomed way of life. Straighten out your lives.’[1]
These are tough words from God to the prophet Jeremiah. But like Phil Ochs in the 1960’s, Jeremiah sang the song he was given to sing.
Here’s a little background that might help put this text in perspective. Jeremiah was an Israelite priest in the second half of the 5th century BCE. He served as a prophet in the kingdom of Judah and the city of Jerusalem during a period of political instability, leading up to the eventual destruction of the city and the nation by the Babylonian Empire.
Jeremiah was known as “the weeping prophet” because God called him to proclaim a message of impending judgement due to idolatry and injustice. In other words, according to Jeremiah, the people of Jerusalem and the government of Judah caused their own downfall.
All summer, we’ve heard challenging scripture passages from the Revised Common Lectionary. The Hebrew prophets, beginning with Elijah and now concluding with Jeremiah, call for social and economic justice and fidelity to God’s word and God’s way.
Paul, in his letters of exhortation and encouragement to early Christian communities, issues a call to remain faithful and united in spite of backlash and persecution.
Luke, a physician and companion of Paul a few decades after Jesus’ death, offers an account of our Lord’s life and ministry directed to an urban Gentile Christian audience living under the rule of the Roman Empire. Luke presents Jesus as the Messiah (that is, the counterpoint to the Emperor) who brings an upside down message of compassion, inclusion and justice, especially for the poor, the marginalized, and the outcast, and Christians are called to hold fast to this vision.
We, 21st century American mainline Christians, receive these texts during one of the most challenging times in our nation’s history. Whatever side of the partisan divide you find yourself on, or if you find yourself standing in the middle, you can’t deny that a lot has happened in our country since January.
Personally, I’ve been very challenged as a preacher, especially since on my first Sunday this summer, a man stood up early in my sermon, before I said much of anything, gave me what I’ve now learned is the MAGA devil sign, and walked out of the chapel. Later that week, I received an angry phone call from a woman who said, I was just trying to rile up liberal democrats in Massachusetts (oh, that I had this kind of power). In early August, I was scolded by someone because I prayed for both Palestinians and Israelis and did not call the situation in Gaza a genocide.
This summer has forced me to once again ask myself, how do we who are ordained honor the vows we made to:
Proclaim by word and deed the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and fashion [our lives] in accordance with its precepts…to love and serve the people among whom [we] work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor.”
In the words of the early 20th century American humorist Finley Peter Dunne, how do we fulfill our promise to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable?”
Writing from prison in this morning’s epistle, the apostle Paul reminds one of his followers to “do your duty.”
And in this morning’s gospel portion, Jesus, approaching his final days in Jerusalem – his rebellious entry, betrayal, arrest, trial, torture, and execution – reminds his followers that “whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
Twice this summer, Peter Olsen, a thoughtful Lutheran pastor, one of our vestry members, and your neighbor here in Wellfleet, wrote in his preaching blog these words:
If you, as a preacher, are unable or unwilling to do the work of preaching the good and challenging teaching of Jesus, then for the sake of the church, for the sake of the world and for your own sake, step out of the pulpit and make way for someone who will.[2]
In conversations this summer with younger clergy now occupying powerful pulpits and leading well-resourced churches in wealthy communities, I reminded them of their privilege and obligation to faithfully preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and the prophets who came before and after him, and not let ambition or the desire to please get in their way.
The question before all of us – not just the preachers among us – is very direct. Are you willing to stand with Jesus? Are you willing to do your duty? Are you willing to proclaim the word of God that you’ve received – in spite of personal cost?
My summer friends: the time has come for us to return to our regular programming, our everyday, off-season lives. Family vacations are over. Kids are back at work, and grandkids are back in school. Congress is back in session. The world keeps on spinning, and our nation is possibly spinning out of control.
History seems to be repeating itself.
Adolf Hitler gained the legal position of Germany’s Chancellor on January 30, 1933. He effectively consolidated dictatorial power within eighteen months; and by August, 1934, he gained absolute power and control over the nation as he declared himself Der Führer (which in German means “The Leader”).
Most historians agree that there were three key factors in Hitler’s rise to power: an economic crisis in Germany that made the populace receptive to the false promises of the Nazi Party; the exploitation of democracy to gain a political foothold in both local and national government; and conservative, self-serving politicians who supported Hitler as chancellor, fatally misjudging their power to control the agenda.
We are nine months into the power consolidation agenda of our nation’s current administration. Think about it. If you support what’s happening in our country, so be it. If you don’t, the time has come for you to express your concern.
In the words of singer songwriter Carrie Newcomer:
There is sorrow and trouble in this land
Although there will be struggle,
we’ll make the change we can.
It will take a change of heart for this to mend.
But miracles do happen every shining now and then.
If not now tell me when.
So, what can you do? You can think nationally and globally, and act locally.
You can donate to and volunteer at your local food pantry, homeless shelter, environmental organization, immigration support group, or one of the myriad of nonprofits that form this nation’s social safety net – a complex network which has or soon will stretch to its limit in trying to meet increasing needs. You can do this.
You can make phone calls and write letters to your congressional representatives, telling them what matters to you, what you think about the issues at hand, and how you want them to represent your perspective. Even if you agree with their voting record, your representative needs to hear that affirmation. If you want help on this activity, check out 5calls.org an app that makes this a very simple, daily or weekly discipline. You can do this.
You can show up for protests and demonstrations and encourage your friends, neighbors and church community (lay and ordained alike) to join you. This past Monday, on Labor Day, a few hundred of us showed up on Rt. 6 at the Nausat Beach light in Eastham with our signs and voices reminding passersby what is at stake. Some of the protestors wore t-shirts signifying their faith affiliation. You can do this.
You can have difficult conversations about the state of our nation with your family, friends, colleagues and neighbors. All summer, we’ve talked about how to carry out such conversations. Remember Keith Owen’s learnings from his truck driving days; Bill Rich’s invitation to eat with enemies; Ryan Fleenor’s advice that we should see the “we” in the “they;” Jamie Hamilton’s suggestion that we should give up our place of power at the table; and Priscilla Wood’s conviction that with the Spirit of God, anything is possible. You can do this hard but essential work.
Thankfully, as Jeremiah reminds us, we are unfinished pieces of clay on the potter’s wheel. As Psalm 139 so beautifully says, we are recipients of God’s grace – a grace that recognizes our limits, understands our weaknesses, and forgives our failings and gives us second chances, over and over again.
In this morning’s alternative Hebrew Scripture reading from Deuteronomy, Moses sets before the people a final command before they enter The Promised Land. “Choose life that you and your children may live.” (Dt. 30:19)
Our faith tradition teaches us that we are given the freedom to choose life or death. God wants us to choose life, but it’s our decision.
Choosing life often means that we have to be willing to die to our old ways, thoughts, habits, strategies, best practices, protocols, rationalizations, and even wisdom. Choosing life sometimes requires that we abandon what we have defined as right so that we may experience the righteousness that God has in store for us.
Jesus said it this way: “Anyone who does not take up their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” And then he advised his would-be followers to calculate, to the best of one’s ability, the entire cost of carrying the cross and to decide (again, the freedom of individual choice) whether we really want the life of Christian discipleship and both the freedom and demands it has to offer.
Dear friends, as I bid you farewell till next summer, I leave with you with the invitation and the challenge to look deep within your heart and choose life – not only for yourself and those whom you love, but for your neighbors, nearby and far away, for those you don’t know personally but who are crying out for compassion, mercy and love. If you choose life for them, then do something about it. Take one small step in the direction of that long arc toward freedom and justice for all.
If not now, tell me when
If not now, tell me when
We may never see this moment
Or place in time again
If not now, if not now, tell me when.
[1] Jeremiah 18:5-10, The Message, Eugene Peterson
[2] PeterOlsen.com