Not Even a Week
November 10, 2024
Friends, it’s been a week…in fact it hasn’t even been a week yet. On Tuesday we witnessed at least 74.6 million Americans vote for Donald Trump and at least 70.9 million Americans vote for Kamala Harris. We wondered how those numbers could be correct. We wondered why only approximately 56% of eligible voters exercised that right. We wondered why our fellow citizens would elect a man who has exhibited limited, if any, characteristics of an American leader. We wondered why both our major political parties would vacate their duties and allow this quagmire to occur. We wondered how we got here in the first place.
By Wednesday morning most of us had settled into some sort of depressed confusion and fear. Many of us cried. Many of us felt numb. Many of us played out the best case and the worst-case scenarios in our heads. Some of us began making plans to leave Ohio or the United States. Some of us began researching the requirements for political asylum or refugee status in other countries. Some of us, knowing that our racial and/or gender privilege might save us from the worst of what might happen, started thinking about how we can care for our friends. Many of us began to wonder if we would and will have the courage and moral conviction to sacrifice our own freedom or our own lives in order to defend the marginalized people we claim to support.
We’ve listened to family and “friends”—I use that term loosely—try to explain why they voted for Trump. We’ve listened to arguments which speak to fears stoked by the worst of people. We’ve been told that Harris was unexperienced in government and had no plan for the country. We’ve heard misogynistic and racist troupes about her intelligence and capacity for leadership. We’ve heard patently false claims about how she succeeded in law and was elected to office. And when we’ve asked those family and friends to stop talking and try to listen, we’ve been told we’re blowing the situation out of proportion.
Pastors across the country wondered what we were going to preach on Sunday. Should we stick to themes like hope and love? Should we discuss loving our neighbors even though this election was clearly anything but that? Should we lean into calls to action and rousing oratory on social justice? Should we just admit to our congregations that we were as lost as they were and sit down? Should we try to preach about loving and praying for those who do us wrong?
Our Scripture tonight comes from just after God has announced that John the Baptist and Jesus would be born. Mary journeys from Galilee to the hill country outside Jerusalem to visit her cousin Elizabeth who is also pregnant. It’s unclear exactly how much older Elizabeth is than Mary and also unclear if Mary goes there voluntarily or is sent there by her family, perhaps both to help care for Elizabeth and to protect Mary from being found pregnant and unmarried. Mary, however, is believed to be 13 to 15 years old, a common age in that time for a woman to be married. Though considered an adult in her time and place, Mary is inexperienced. Yet, upon entering Elizabeth’s home we’re told that “Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.’”
While the Holy Spirit shows up in the Bible from the very beginning, this is the earliest reference chronologically to someone being filled with the Spirit similar to the Apostles at Pentecost. It’s also the earliest reference to anyone worshipping Jesus on earth. And here both these events are in an exchange between two pregnant women. For her part, Mary doesn’t turn red and embarrassed. She breaks into song glorifying God and announcing the destruction of empire. Not what one might expect from a 13-year-old girl in any time or place, but here she is.
Recently, Bishop William Barber said that “Preachers don’t get to stay out of politics. We are either chaplains of empire or prophets of God.” There are two points I want you to take from tonight’s scripture. First, check in on your friends and family. Whatever happens now or in the future and whatever the capacity you have to help, check in with your friends and family. A simple text message saying, “Checking in…how are you doing?” can be the difference between someone feeling alone and feeling connected to other people. That simple gesture goes further than the response, it demonstrates connection when connection feels so far away. Visit your neighbors, wave and say hello even if you never have before. Regardless of geopolitics, national elections, and state-level drama, the way we all get through difficult times is through our local connections. And when one community refuses to step up for its people, we can be beacons to our friends elsewhere leading them to safety.
Second, we need to get back to work. This week in the church Facebook group chat I jokingly said, “Don’t burn anything down.” John asked, “For how long?” It being Wednesday, I said, “Tomorrow.” I’m hardly suggesting violence, but we have to get back to work. We have to continue fighting for a safer, more affirming, and kinder world for all people. We have to continue being God’s hands and feet in the world. Our work got harder on Tuesday, but it’s not impossible.
What we can’t do is become complacent and be the chaplains of empire and the acolytes of the shifting status quo. We must be prophets of God and servants of Jesus Christ. We must speak truth to power even when our voice shakes. We must stand up even when the forces of this world make it hard to stand for anything other than their version of the truth. We must continue to be witnesses to a Savior who died at the hands of people fearful to lose their power.
Friends, I wish I could tell you that everything will be all right or that better days are ahead of us. I wish I could tell you about the vision God had shown me. I wish I could offer even a small assurance that everything will be all right. All I can say today is that I’m in this work, this fight with you. Amen.