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Justice Lessons From Being Expelled
Herb Montgomery | March 13, 2026
If you’d like to listen to this week’s article in podcast version click on the image below:
Our reading this fourth weekend of Lent is from the gospel of John, here is only beginning portion of it:
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know . . . ” (For full text see, John 9:1-41)
I don’t like when writers use people’s differences as metaphors for inferiority. Darkness as metaphor for evil has historically hurt those whose skin is darker than those with light or white skin. God is too often gendered as male and the fallen, redeemed church is gendered as female. In this week’s passage, a person’s real, lived-in disability, blindness, is used as a symbol of those opposed to Jesus and his gospel.
We can do better than this. We don’t have to throw some of our human siblings under the bus to lift up the intrinsic value and beauty of the justice ethics in the teachings of Jesus.
A translation challenge meets us in the very beginning of our reading this week. Verse 3 is one of the most debated translations in the New Testament. In many English versions, Jesus appears to say of the man born blind, “He was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” Read straightforwardly, this implies divine causation: the blindness exists for the purpose of a later miraculous display. This reading has troubled interpreters pastorally and theologically over the years, since it seems to portray God as inflicting suffering to stage a sign.
The difficulty arises from how translators handle the Greek clause that begins “hina” (“so that”). In Johannine Greek, “hina” can express purpose, and it can also introduce a result, an explanation, or function as a loose connective word rather than a strict causal marker. Greek manuscripts lacked punctuation, so translators must decide where sentences begin and end.
An alternative rendering breaks the assumed cause-and-effect link: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned. But that the works of God might be revealed in him, we must work the works of the one who sent me.” Here the blindness is not explained; it is simply the occasion or opportunity for divine action.
This alternate interpretation shifts the focus away from why the man was born blind to what God does in response to human suffering. The translation problem, then, is not merely grammatical but also theological: whether the text teaches a God who causes disability for display or revelation or a God who confronts suffering with healing and change.
What jumps out to me most this week was that the healing of the man was an act of compassion that immediately became a controversy because it took place on the Sabbath. The Pharisees in this story are less concerned with the man’s restored sight than with the violation of a sacred rule. John’s narrative exposes a deep tension between rigid fidelity to ritual and life-giving justice, a tension that is all too familiar to Christians who engage social justice work today.
For Jesus, the Sabbath is not an end in itself but a means to human flourishing. When challenged, he insists that the work of God cannot be postponed by systems that prioritize order over mercy. This healing story confronts a worldview that explains away suffering as divine punishment or personal failure. By rejecting the assumption that the man’s blindness resulted from his or others’ sin, Jesus dismantles a theology that blames the oppressed for their own condition. Instead, he centers the humanity and agency of the marginalized by restoring this man’s social standing.
The Pharisees’ reaction is telling. They interrogate, shame, and ultimately expel the healed man from the community. His exclusion mirrors how institutions today often respond to those who challenge unjust norms: whistleblowers, activists, allies, and marginalized voices themselves are frequently discredited or silenced for disrupting the status quo. Yet the man’s testimony in its simplicity, honesty, and connection to his lived experience, becomes a powerful witness. He knows only what he has experienced: “I was blind, now I see.” This declaration is not an abstract theological argument in favor of his healing. It is a simply declaration of his own story that cannot be denied.
John 9 calls communities of faith who work for justice today to ask whether their traditions serve liberation or preserve control. Sabbath-breaking becomes a metaphor in our reading this week for necessary disruption. This story calls us to contemplate moments when justice requires bending or reinterpreting rules that protect privilege, power, or belonging. Jesus’ act reminds us that faithfulness is measured not by strict compliance to community norms but by solidarity with the disenfranchised, those denied inclusion, and the marginalized, those pushed to the edges. True Jesus-following, our reading suggests, is found where liberation, humanity, and justice take precedence over the comfort of being approved by institutions. And this kind of focus takes courage. There will always be pushback.
Lastly this week, I want to address the Johannine community’s transition away from an adversarial relationship with certain sects of the Pharisees to the Gospel of John’s universal use of the phrase “the Jews.” The phrase “the Jews” in the Gospel of John, including here in John 9, has a long and troubling history of antisemitic misuse, even though such readings distort the text’s original context and intent.
It is vitally important when we read the gospel of John to interpret John’s usage of “the Jews” (Greek “hoi Ioudaioi”) not as a blanket reference to the Jewish people as a whole. (Here we are encountering the seeds that led to the Holocaust.) Rather, we should interpret John as pointing to specific Judean authorities (particularly Temple leaders in complicity with Rome) who are portrayed as opposing Jesus. Tragically, later readers collapsed this narrow, contextual meaning into a totalizing indictment of all Jews, fueling centuries of Christian antisemitism.
The Gospel of John emerged from a late first-century Jewish context shaped by conflict within Judaism itself. Jesus, his disciples, and the Gospel’s author were all Jewish. Their sharp language reflects intra-Jewish debate following the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple (70 CE), when different Jewish groups struggled over identity and authority. John’s community, likely marginalized and expelled from some synagogues, articulated its pain through polemic. What was originally a family argument was later weaponized by Christians as an accusation against an entire people.
When removed from its historical setting, then, John’s language was used to justify social exclusion, violence, and theological contempt. Church leaders and preachers repeatedly cited John’s references to “the Jews” to portray Judaism as willfully blinkered or malicious, and that culture culminated in deadly consequences from medieval pogroms to modern racial antisemitism. Such readings contradict both the ethical vision of Jesus found in the Synoptic Gospels and the historical reality that Christianity itself emerged from Judaism. Jesus, remember, was never a Christian. Jesus was a Jewish man in the first century speaking from the Hebrew prophetic wisdom he had gained from his own tradition.
Responsible interpretation today requires rejecting any reading that essentializes or demonizes Jewish people. Interpreters must clarify that John critiques specific power structures, not an ethnicity or religion. For communities committed to justice, this work is not optional. Naming and resisting antisemitic interpretations of scripture is part of repairing the harm Christians have committed against Jewish communities. It means honoring historical truth and practicing a faith that refuses to scapegoat marginalized communities.
This week’s reading presents to us a story of standing up to the status quo and the risks involved in standing with the marginalized when doing so contradicts religious and political institutions. This kind of action is not abstract sentiment. It is costly. It demands we move from private belief to public solidarity, to love our world and those who are being harmed, even when that harm is supported by religiosity. Following the Jesus of our story this week also calls us to confront systems that crush life and stand where solidarity and harm mitigation is risky. Our story calls us to step out of our comfort zones and redirect our loyalties, resist injustice, and commit to transformative action alongside the marginalized, for the flourishing and thriving of all as we work to shape our world into a just, compassionate, just home for everyone.
Discussion Group Questions
1. Share something that spoke to you from this week’s podcast episode with your discussion group.
2. When was a time that you experienced exclusion for standing in solidarity with the marginalized for justice? Share and discuss with your group.
3. What can you do this week, big or small, to continue setting in motion the work of shaping our world into a safe, compassionate, just home for everyone?
Thanks for checking in with us, today.
I want to say a special thank you to all of our supporters out there. And if you would like to join them in supporting Renewed Heart Ministries’ work you can do so by going to renewedheartministries.com and clicking donate.
My latest book Finding Jesus: A Fundamentalist Preacher Discovers the Socio-Political and Economic Teachings of the Gospels is available now on Amazon in paperback, Kindle and also on Audible in audio book format.
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Right where you are, keep living in love, choosing compassion, taking action, and working toward justice.
I love each of you dearly,
I’ll see you next week.

New Episode of The Social Jesus Podcast
A podcast where we talk about the intersection of faith and social justice and what a first century, prophet of the poor from Galilee might have to offer us today in our work of love, compassion and justice.
This week:
Season 3 Episode 12: Justice Lessons From Being Expelled
John 9:1-41
This week’s reading presents to us a story of standing up to the status quo and the risks involved in standing with the marginalized when doing so contradicts religious and political institutions. This kind of action is not abstract sentiment. It is costly. It demands we move from private belief to public solidarity, to love our world and those in it who are being harmed, even when that harm is supported by religiosity. Following the Jesus of our story this week also calls us to confront systems that crush life and stand where solidarity and harm mitigation is risky. Our story calls us to step out of our comfort zones and redirect our loyalties, resist injustice, and commit to transformative action alongside the marginalized, for the flourishing and thriving of all as we work to shape our world into a just, compassionate, safe home for everyone.
Available on all major podcast carriers and at:
https://the-social-jesus-podcast.simplecast.com/episodes/justice-lessons-from-being-expelled
Finding Jesus: A Fundamentalist Preacher Discovers the Socio-Political & Economic Teachings of the Gospels.

by Herb Montgomery
Available now on Amazon!
In Finding Jesus, author Herb Montgomery delves into the profound and often overlooked political dimensions of the gospels. Through meticulous analysis of biblical texts, historical context, and social discourse, this thought-provoking book unveils the gospels’ socio-political, economic teachings as rooted in a profound concern for justice, compassion, and the well-being of the marginalized. The book navigates the intersections between faith and societal justice, presenting a compelling argument for a more socially engaged and transformative Christianity.
Finding Jesus is not just a scholarly exploration; it is a call to action. It challenges readers to reevaluate their understanding of Christianity’s role in public life and to consider how the radical teachings of the gospels can inspire a renewed commitment to justice, equality, and compassion. This book is a must-read for those seeking a deeper understanding of the social implications of Christian faith and a blueprint for building a more just and inclusive society.
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Herb Montgomery | August 3, 2018
“The system is intended to break their spirit once and for all, to make them give up and simply cycle through the judicial system indefinitely. Jesus’ vision for human society was that his kingdom would belong to those presently trodden and excluded, those whose spirit has been broken, who don’t have the will to even keep trying.”
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:18; cf. Isaiah 61:1-3)
Luke’s gospel sums up Jesus’ itinerant teaching ministry with Isaiah’s words of solidarity and liberation for poor, formerly incarcerated, oppressed, indebted, vulnerable, and marginalized people. The Jewish and Christian sacred texts contain passages of liberation and of oppression. You’ll find texts that liberate women from patriarchy and that teach patriarchy itself. You’ll find passages of liberation from slavery (Deuteronomy 23.15) as well as endorsing and approving of slavery. You’ll find passages that teach xenophobic genocide and those that promote care of and generosity toward the “stranger” or “foreigner.” You’ll find passages that describe wealth as a great blessing and those that praise liberating the exploited poor from the wealthy. And you’ll find texts that teach inclusion and acceptance of the LGBTQ community and those that teach their exclusion.
Whatever you’re looking for in the scriptures, you can find. .The gospel writers also had those options when they picked passages from the Torah, the Songs, and the Prophets. Luke’s gospel chose a passage from the Prophets that speaks liberation for those who were oppressed by people in positions of power and privilege.
Both Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels include variations of these words:
“Looking at his disciples, he said:
‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.
Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets.
But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.
Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.’” (Luke 6:20-26)
In these words, we see Jesus’ solidarity with and liberation of those on the undersides and margins of his society’s status quo. Jesus came to call for change, changes that would be a “blessing” for those the present structures had caused to be poor, to weep, and to go hungry. These changes would also mean “woe” for those designing and benefiting from those structures.
Matthew’s version of these words is a little broader. In Matthew, Jesus called for changes for the meek rather than the assertive person, the pure in heart rather than those corrupted by greed, the peacemakers rather than peacekeepers, those hungering and thirsting for the Hebrew prophets’ distributive justice (righteousness) rather than those alleviating guilt with charity, and the merciful rather than the merciless. The one group that stands out to me as I reread this passage is the group that Jesus said would be blessed by the changes he called for in our world—the poor in spirit.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5.3)
I was recently revisiting Michelle Alexander’s masterpiece, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. One section describes the permanent consequences of a person being branded a “felon” after they have served their sentence. From not being allowed to find housing or employment to having your right to vote and serve on a jury forever taken away, these are experiences that break people’s spirits.
Here are just three of the stories that Alexander shares:
Clinton Drake (Veteran)
“I put my life on the line for this country. To me, not voting is not right; it led to a lot of frustration, a lot of anger. My son’s in Iraq. In the army just like I was. My oldest son, he fought in the first Persian Gulf conflict. He was in the Marines. This is my baby son over there right now. But I’m not able to vote. They say I owe $900 in fines. To me, that’s a poll tax. You’ve got to pay to vote. It’s “restitution,” they say. I came off parole on October 13, 1999, but I’m still not allowed to vote. Last time I voted was in ’88. Bush versus Dukakis. Bush won. I voted for Dukakis. If it was up to me, I’d vote his son out this time too. I know a lot of friends got the same cases like I got, not able to vote. A lot of guys doing the same things like I was doing. Just marijuana. They treat marijuana in Alabama like you committed treason or something. I was on the 1965 voting rights march from Selma. I was fifteen years old. At eighteen, I was in Vietnam fighting for my country. And now? Unemployed and they won’t allow me to vote.” (The New Jim Crow; pp. 159-160)
Unnamed Woman:
“When I leave here it will be very difficult for me in the sense that I’m a felon. That I will always be a felon . . . for me to leave here, it will affect my job, it will affect my education . . . custody [of my children], it can affect child support, it can affect everywhere—family, friends, housing. . . People that are convicted of drug crimes can’t even get housing anymore. . . Yes, I did my prison time. How long are you going to punish me as a result of it? And not only on paper, I’m only on paper for ten months when I leave here, that’s all the parole I have. But, that parole isn’t going to be anything. It’s the housing, it’s the credit re-establishing. . . . I mean even to go into the school, to work with my child’s class—and I’m not a sex offender—but all I need is one parent who says, ‘Isn’t she a felon? I don’t want her with my child.’” (The New Jim Crow; pp. 162-163)
Willie Johnson:
“My felony conviction has been like a mental punishment, because of all the obstacles. . . Every time I go to put in a [job] application—I have had three companies hire me and tell me to come to work the next day. But then the day before they will call and tell me don’t come in—because you have a felony. And that is what is devastating because you think you are about to go to work and they call you and say because of your felony we can’t hire [you]. I have run into this at least a dozen times. Two times I got very depressed and sad because I couldn’t take care of myself as a man. It was like I wanted to give up—because in society nobody wants to give us a helping hand. Right now I am considered homeless. I have never been homeless until I left the penitentiary, and now I know what it feels to be homeless. If it was not for my family I would be in the streets sleeping in the cold. . . . We [black men] have three strikes against us: 1) because we are black, and 2) because we are a black male, and the final strike is a felony. These are the greatest three strikes that a black man has against him in this country. I have friends who don’t have a felony—and have a hard time getting a job. But if a black man can’t find a job to take care of himself—he is ashamed that he can’t take care of his children.” (The New Jim Crow; pp. 163-164)
These stories add new meaning to Jesus saying he had been sent “to proclaim freedom for the prisoners,” including people labeled as “felons.”
The opposite of being “poor in spirit” is being “strong in spirit” (see Luke 1:80). This society rewards those who, in addition to being privileged in other ways, are also strong in spirit. They have drive. They have fight. They compete. And they keep going till they win. The stories that Michelle Alexander tells are stories of those who, no matter how hard they try, can’t even survive. The system is intended to break their spirit once and for all, to make them give up and simply cycle through the judicial system indefinitely. Jesus’ vision for human society was that his kingdom would belong to those presently trodden and excluded, those whose spirit has been broken, who don’t have the will to even keep trying. Jesus cast a vision for a world not of charity that leaves the unjust structures in place, but where all oppression, injustice, and violence toward the vulnerable has been put right.
What does a world look like where people aren’t in need of continual charity or relief and live instead in a just society?
What does a world look like where people who are presently broken and downtrodden are instead given what they need to thrive?
What does a world look like where people who are vulnerable and pushed to the margins by those at the center are instead cared about and cared for?
I believe we have to start with that vision. I’m not preaching utopia. Utopia movements have backfired too many times in the past with very destructive results. But we have at least to begin with the discussion of what a utopia would even look like if we are going to push our present reality in a more just, safe, compassionate direction. We can argue about whether or not a utopia is possible, but as my friend Ash-lee Woodard Henderson of the Highlander Center shared with me recently, “Discovering what our utopias even look like is very often the first step in discovering what we need to be working on in our work of shaping a better world.”
It was to this work of shaping a better world that I believe Jesus called his disciples. And it’s really only this kind of discipleship that holds any real interest for me. I’ll close with the words of Sam Wells:
“The traditional way of understanding discipleship as one of taking people out of the world because it is a hostile place, promising them a better place in God’s heavenly kingdom, has been radically transformed by this insight. Jesus call us rather to change the world in such a way that it will cease to be the hostile place it is, as we construct the way for God’s reign on earth . . . The one thing everyone seems to agree on today is that there’s plenty wrong with the world. There are only two responses to this—either go and put it right yourself, or, if you can’t, make life pretty uncomfortable for those who can until they do. When we take stock of our relationship with the powerful, we ask ourselves, ‘Does the shape of my life reflect my longing to see God set people free, and do I challenge those who keep others in slavery?” (Sam Wells in Binding the Strong Man: a political reading of Mark’s story of Jesus by Ched Myers)
Here’s to the work of shaping a world that we may be able to look at one day and say:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom…” (Matthew 5:3)
HeartGroup Application
This week, Ron Dellums passed away. If you are unaware of who he was, here is a link to his wikipedia page: Ron Dellums
With Mr. Dellums’ death, I’m reminded once again of the work those who have gone before us dedicated their lives to, their importance to us, and our importance to them. It is important that we continue their work of justice, peace and humanity toward all. They took up the work from those who came before them, and we must continue the work, taking it as far as we can during the time we, together, have.
In honor of Ron Dellums, have your HeartGroup take a few moments and watch an interview with Ron from 2015 and discuss your responses with the group.
You can find the interview here. It begins at minute marker 26:18.
What it would look like for your HeartGroup to lean more deeply into a dedication to challenging all forms of injustice. Pick something from your discussion and put it into practice, this week.
Thanks for checking in with us.
Wherever you are today, keep living in love, survival, resistance, liberation, reparation, and transformation.
Another world is possible.
I love each of you dearly.
I’ll see you next week.
To support these podcasts and weekly eSight articles, go to www.renewedheartministries.comand click “donate.”
by Herb Montgomery | June 1, 2018

“When it’s safe to stand alongside those being marginalized, to amplify their voices, to hand them the mic, you will no longer be needed.”
“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’” (Luke 15:1-2)
“This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
In recent articles on pyramids, circles, and social structure, I mentioned that the term “sinner” was used in Jesus’ society to push people to the edges and lower sections of their community.
Ched Myers uses the debate between Pharisees and Saducees over whether grain was clean or impure to illustrate how this worked.
“According to Leviticus 11:38 if water is poured upon seed it becomes unclean. The passage, however, does not distinguish between seed planted in the soil and seed detached from the soil . . . In years of poor harvests, a frequent occurrence owing to poor soil, drought, warfare, locust plagues and poor methods of farming, this text was a source of dispute. Why? During such lean years, grain was imported from Egypt. But the Egyptians irrigated their fields (putting water on seed) so that their grain was suspect, perhaps even unclean. The Sadducees judged that such grain was unclean and anyone consuming it also became unclean. They were quite willing to pay skyrocketing prices commanded by scarce domestic grain because they could afford it. . . . One senses economic advance being sanctioned, since the Sadducees were often the large landowners whose crops increased in value during such times. By contrast the Pharisees argued that the Pentateuchal ordinance applied only to seed detached from the soil; therefore . . . one could be observant and still purchase Egyptian grain.” (in Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus, p. 76)
I’ve covered this in The Lost Coin and in the presentation Jesus’ Preferential Option for the Marginalized. People used the pejorative label of “sinner” to other another human being and to limit their voice in the community. The writers of the Jesus story go to great length to communicate that the ones the religious and political leaders of that time had labelled as “sinners” were the ones Jesus included and also centered as he called for a new social order that favored them. Here are just a few examples:
Matthew 9:13—“But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
[Remember that Jesus is using the labels of “righteous” and “sinner” as they were used in his society, not as many Christians use them today. Those labelled “righteous” by those in power threatened their political and economic structures the least and benefitted from them. The label “sinner” was used to silence the voices of those who would have protested either their own exploitation or another’s.]
Matthew 11:19—“The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by her deeds.”
Mark 2:15-16—“While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: ‘Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?’”
Luke 5:30—“But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?”
Luke 19:7—“All the people saw this and began to mutter, ‘He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.’”
The people Jesus ate with weren’t sinners ontologically; they were sinners politically, economically, and socially. In this context, therefore, it’s not accurate to respond, “Well, we are all sinners.” We must recognize how the label of sinner was used against some people. When particular human beings are being targeted and marginalized, it’s not enough to call for universal grace. Instead we ought to call for justice. A breach in relationship happens when one person marginalizes another and labels them sinner. A person may be a sinner, but they are labelled that way to religiously legitimate injustice committed against them. Gustavo Gutiérrez reminds us, “All injustice is a breach with God” (in A Theology of Liberation, p.139). It’s a breach with God because it is a breach with our fellow human beings.
In last month’s recommended reading book for RHM, Kelly Brown Douglas’ Stand Your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God, Douglas reminds us:
“In Jesus’ first-century world, crucifixion was the brutal tool of social-political power. It was reserved for slaves, enemy soldiers, and those held in the highest contempt and lowest regard in society. To be crucified was, for the most part, an indication of how worthless and devalued an individual was in the eyes of established power. At the same time, it indicated how much of a threat that person was believed to pose. Crucifixion was reserved for those who threatened the “peace” of the day. It was a torturous death that was also meant to send a message: disrupt the Roman order in any way, this too will happen to you. As there is a lynched class of people, there was, without doubt, a crucified class of people. The crucified class in the first-century Roman world was the same as the lynched class today. It consisted of those who were castigated and demonized as well as those who defied the status quo. Crucifixion was a stand-your-ground type of punishment for the treasonous offense of violating the rule of Roman “law and order.
. . . That Jesus was crucified affirms his absolute identification with the Trayvons, the Jordans, the Renishas, the Jonathans, and all the other victims of the stand-your-ground-culture war. Jesus’ identification with the lynched/ crucified class is not accidental. It is intentional. It did not begin with his death on the cross. In fact, that Jesus was crucified signals his prior bond with the “crucified class” of his day. (p. 171)
Jesus did not stand in solidarity with the marginalized “crucified class” in secret. He did not do so diplomatically or with an eye toward political expediency. He did so openly, publicly, and transparently. We see this in the following story in Mark’s gospel:
Another time Jesus went into the synagogue, and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath. Jesus said to the man with the shriveled hand, “Stand up in front of everyone.” Then Jesus asked them, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” But they remained silent. He looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus. (Mark 3:1-5)
Consider that phrase, “Stand up in front of everyone.” Jesus knew that what he was teaching and whom he was standing with was going to cost him. He could have met the man at the back of the synagogue, or pulled him into a private room where he could “behind the scenes” engage the work of this liberation. But no, Jesus met and healed him right there, in front of everyone, with intention.
I read this story often when I’m tempted to value protecting my own privilege over the people who today need others to speak alongside them. When it’s safe to stand alongside those being marginalized, to amplify their voices, to hand them the mic, I will no longer be needed. To quote the 1980s synth-pop classic “Take On Me” by A-ha, “It’s not better to be safe than sorry.”
Does open solidarity with those being marginalized come with a cost? You bet it does. According to the story in Mark, the immediate push back for Jesus’ public witness to this man’s liberation was that the religious and political leaders “went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus.” And this is only in Mark’s third chapter. The leaders are threatened by Jesus’ public and transparent inclusion of those they excluded from the very beginning of Mark’s story.
All of this raises the question: who are we known to stand in solidarity with? The status quo? Or those beloved people who daily face oppression, exploitation, or marginalization within our status quo?
“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’” (Luke 15:1-2)
HeartGroup Application
This past month, on the same day the U.S. moved its embassy to Jerusalem, over 60 nonviolent Palestinian protestors including children in Gaza were murdered by Israeli snipers. (Gaza begins to bury its dead after deadliest day in years)
Here are some things you and your HeartGroup can do:
1. Participate in protests in your area in response to what is taking place in Gaza. Voice your objection publicly.
2. Use your social media platform to bring awareness to what is happening.
3. Contact your federal, state and local representatives. Write a letter, an email, or better yet, call their office.
4. Donate to charities.
You will need to do your own due diligence and research finding the right charity. Find a charity that has people with feet on the ground who can evidence that your gift will reach the people who need it. One charity that does meet these criteria is UNWRA.
6. Talk to your family and friends.
Talk to your family and friends to raise awareness and have them join you in the above actions.
7. Support peace-building initiatives.
Support Muslim and Jewish organizations that are working to bring peace while practicing a preferential option for the vulnerable. Standing against the violence in Gaza is about standing up against oppression, colonization, discrimination, and inequity.
Thanks for checking in with us this week.
Wherever you are, keep living in love.
Keep living in resistance, survival, liberation, reparation, and transformation.
Another world is possible.
I love each of you dearly,
I’ll see you next week.
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