5 OT A ~Isaiah 58:7-10~ A Note to Pastors: Preaching in this Season of Conflict and Pain

Dear Preachers, what follows is not a homily, but rather some thoughts, incomplete and inadequate as they are, on preaching in this time of divisive civil and religious disruption. I am not a pastor. I do not have to make the daily choices you must make to keep your community engaged, stable, and spiritually alive. I offer these thoughts because the question, "How do we preach the Beatitudes and Isaiah 58 in this season?" will not go away.

The passage from Isaiah is challenging, no doubt, but it is also pretty straightforward.

Share your bread with the hungry,

shelter the oppressed and the homeless;

clothe the naked when you see them,

and do not turn your back on your own.

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your wound shall quickly be healed;

your vindication shall go before you,

and the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer,

you shall cry for help, and he will say: Here I am!

you remove from your midst oppression,

false accusation and malicious speech;

if you bestow your bread on the hungry

and satisfy the afflicted;

then light shall rise for you in the darkness

and the gloom shall become for you like midday.

Over the past few weeks, the words and images in preaching that have remained with me, challenged me, invited response—are not the words spoken aloud. The words that call for reflection are the words that were left unsaid; those words that stick in the back of preachers' throats, too fragile, perhaps too fearful to be given voice.

Those unspoken words echo loudly.  Those words—bold, prophetic, Gospel words—should call us to satisfy the afflicted, to be light in the darkness, to share our bread with the hungry and shelter the oppressed and homeless. Given what has happened in our nation and our world the past few months, words of Biblical righteousness should resound from our pulpits each and every week, without equivocation, without wiggle room, without any doubt as to what our Lord calls us to be and do as communities of disciples.  

The Church that Christ desires is described in Matthew 25:  

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat,

I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,

I was a stranger and you invited me in,

I needed clothes and you clothed me, 

I was sick and you looked after me,

I was in prison and you came to visit me.” 

There are no caveats, no escape clauses, no fine print. If we are not preaching and living this; if we are not connecting the Gospel we proclaim with the events we see and experience in our world, then we are not preaching.

This is a season for witness. A time for engagement. A moment for honest conversations about the health of our nation’s soul. What does faithfulness to the Gospel look like in times such as these?  As a colleague in homiletics, Rev. Dr. Leah Schade, posted recently, “This is not a moment for managerial, brand-protecting, or conflict-avoidant clergy.”  Amen.

For those who would argue “politics has no place in Church” I would say, “look at who we follow.” Look at the reality of his life, death, and resurrection. We follow Jesus, a man executed by the state; a prophet, healer, teacher; the divine One who saw oppressive systems and structures as evils to be overcome, not just in the next life, but in this one.  He proclaimed a kingdom that should be unfolding in our midst, accompanied by the sound of breaking chains and shattered bonds; accompanied by the sight of bread, appearing on tables. 

His healing miracles always brought someone from the crossroads into the center for restorative justice.

outcast lepers returned to community;

a bent-over woman, released to give praise;

a naked demoniac howling in caves, seated, clothed, and sane.

His peripheral vision was 20/20. Jesus never let the people standing directly in front of him obscure his vision of those who lingered behind or limped along the brambly edges. He challenged the hypocrisy of religious leaders who placed safety, privilege, and profit above justice and inclusion. Business as usual was simply not acceptable when the "usual business" was the business of keeping people bound.

When we ask, “What would Jesus do?” we need to remember that picking up a whip and overturning tables was a very real option.   

I am aware of my privilege in speaking here. I am a white, cis-gendered, protected lay woman who does not have the temporal or spiritual care of a congregation. I am not responsible for the financial health of a parish. I don’t have to worry about the possibility of drawing a homiletic line in the sand and then watching as beloved members cross it and walk away.  Many of you do, and my heart aches for the choices you must make in shepherding and leading God's people in challenging and divisive times.  

Yet, as preachers, I don’t see how we can proclaim Isaiah this week and offer God's people a vague reminder to “love your neighbor,” knowing that abstract love without concrete action on behalf of the beloved, is but half a message. I have more questions than answers, and don't pretend to understand your particular situation or community, so I turn to the words of the prophet himself. Isaiah was a preacher who knew a lot about sin, corruption, and suffering, yet he preached a bold and gritty message of hope, rooted in the reality of God's justice for the poor and powerless.

Share your bread with the hungry,

shelter the oppressed and the homeless;

clothe the naked when you see them,

and do not turn your back on your own.

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your wound shall quickly be healed;

your vindication shall go before you,

and the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer,

you shall cry for help, and he will say:

Here I am!

The bad news we face is immediate and visceral. The Good News we preach in response cannot be abstract, generic, or filled with platitudes. We preach to foster an encounter with Christ--the savior who called us to see Him, and respond to Him, in every stranger we encounter who is hungry, naked, or imprisoned.  

How shall we preach this week?