Under Pressure
A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.
A reading from the Gospel of Queen and David Bowie:
[PLAY AUDIO] “Pressure / Pushing down on me / Pressing down on you / No man ask for / Under pressure /That burns a building down/ Splits a family in two/ Puts people on streets. It’s the terror of knowing what this world about / Watching some good friend screaming / “Let me out.” / Praying tomorrow gets me higher / Pressure on people, people on the streets.”
This morning, as with the crowd of thousands gathered long ago, we are gathered in a region caught up in the winds of national conflict and the whims of would-be “overlords.”[i] And, as with that crowd, we do not find the comforting Jesus we might have expected at a time like this; the gentle shepherd of his flock.
No. This morning we find Jesus … under pressure.
In our translation he describes himself as “under stress.” The Greek, sunechó, is the same word used to describe the crowds physically pressing in on him earlier in Luke’s Gospel.
Under pressure.
It may be hard to hear Jesus sound like this — so raw with emotion; with anger … but I believe there is a different kind of comfort to be found here. Because this is our God feeling the weight and urgency of a time like this. Jesus is inviting us so close to him. So close to his real, beating human heart, and his electric divine mind.
Under pressure.
Ours is a God of peace. But ours is not a God of peace-making that comes at the expense of the marginalized or excludes the oppressed. Our God does not make peace with those forces that seek to invalidate the love between two people; that separate and wrongly detain innocents, including minors and disabled people. Making peace with those practices is not the project of the coming Realm of the God of peace. And witnessing those practices is enough to make some of us want to bring fire to the earth.
Under pressure.
Sometimes I feel like, as a Christian, something is wrong if I feel stress and anger stirring in my body. If the stories I read raise my pulse and my blood pressure. If, sometimes, I have the distinct impulse to “bring fire” and division. To “burn it all down.” Sometimes I feel like I’m “doing it wrong” if I’m not ever-calm, ever-comforted, ever-cool.
But today, I am reminded that Jesus of Nazareth himself turns over tables. Curses a fig tree. And, today, tells us: for God’s sake, look around! This is not who you were made to be. There may not be much time left, and there will be division. And there will be fire.
Under pressure.
And so, if you have been finding yourself feeling the pressure of the world on your chest, you are in good company … the best company, really.
Because the truth is, the experience of feeling under pressure is a holy sign. It tells us that our hearts have not gone numb. That we still ache for God’s justice and mercy to break into our world.
But friends, might I suggest that sometimes we need a relief valve. Something that lifts the weight off our shoulders, so we can hold onto those holy feelings, and move forward.
And the best relief valve I know of is the love of God in community, and human connection. We will see and hear and know great human cruelty. But always, always, God’s love as shown through human kindness is here. Ready to help us breathe. Together.
This gathering is a relief valve. The way we meet, and — as Jesus showed us on that most difficult night in his life — break bread together; sing and celebrate with joy; tend to one another through sickness and death; welcome new little ones into this sacred Body of Christ. Inhale. And exhale.
And, when we show up in the world together — and partner with other human beings — on behalf of those human beings most threatened by policies that would tear us apart. When those of us, like myself, who hold the privilege of whiteness and of citizenship, use it and risk it. This too, helps our shoulders release some of that tension. Relax, just a bit.
Under pressure.
Today I pray we can listen to a vulnerable God who described himself as under stress, and invited us so close to him. And, remember that we have the greatest hope there is in knowing that pressure was real and was felt, but did not crush our God, and will not crush God’s people.
Those things of the world that neither our God nor we will ever make peace with will fall. And the peace we seek will come. And in the time before it does, we will, like Jesus, live in the tension between that coming peace and this imperfect world — with hearts alive and beating, minds on fire, eyes open, walking toward God’s promised new creation. Together. In love.
[PLAY AUDIO] “Give love, give love, give love, give love … 'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word / And love dares you to care for / The people on the (People on streets) edge of the night / And love (People on streets) dares you to change our way of /Caring about ourselves / This is our last dance / This is our last dance / This is ourselves / Under pressure / Under pressure /Pressure.”
This is ourselves, under pressure.
[i] See note from L. Michael White about the region of Galilee, where Luke 12 likely takes place (probably Caperneum), and Herod’s rule. https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/religion/portrait/galilee.html#:~:text=The%20term%20Galilean%20seems%20to,sons%20and%20the%20Romans%20themselves.