"E Pluribus Unum", May 25, 2025

 

E Pluribus Unum
By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski
Colossians, chapter 3, verses 11-17
Memorial Day Weekend, May 25, 2025
Topsfield Congregational Church

 

I recently discovered a great little podcast called “Everything Is Alive”. The host, Ian Chillag, interviews actors, comedians, and professors, who pretend to be ordinary, everyday objects, like a chainsaw, a bath towel, a pencil, or a toaster. The people step into the perspective of the inanimate object, and Ian interviews them about their lives. The conversations are completely improvised, and both Ian and his guest take it really seriously, so there's this feeling as you're listening that you're actually hearing a very personal interview between a great interviewer and like a stapler.

 

One of my favorite episodes features Chioke I'Anson, a philosophy professor and director of the Community Media Center at Virginia Commonwealth University. He is also known for being the voice of NPR (he’s the one who says Support for NPR comes from NPR stations.) Anyways, in this episode of “Everything is Alive”, Chioke pretends to be a grain of sand.

 

Ian asks questions to get to know Chioke as a grain of sand. “Do you know how old you are?”

Chioke answers: “Not exactly, no. I think it probably would amount to somewhere in the hundreds of thousands of years. I mean, I wasn't always sand, right? There was a time when I was a boulder”.

 

At one point in the interview, Chioke, as a grain of sand, interrupts the line of questioning and says: “You know, we're doing this interview and I'm a grain of sand. But that's not really the way that I would think of myself. I think normally I would just say, ‘We are sand.’ There's this kind of mass noun thing happening. When I think of what I am, we are the sand in the aquarium. When I'm on a beach, we are the sand on the beach. It's weird to talk to you because you don't seem to have a mass noun arrangement. You say of yourself that you're a person, right? So, like, why aren't you a grain of person?”

Ian responds: “Like, why do I not consider myself as a fraction of all of humanity?”

 

Chioke says: “Yeah. That makes more sense. It just seems to me, if you recognized the degree to which you owed your existence to other people, you might also be nicer to other people.”

 

His words took my breath away. I absolutely love this.

 

I also love the sand metaphor. Humans are like grains of sand, but humanity is sand. Each grain of sand, each person, each and every single one of you, has individuality. You are unique. You look different than others and talk differently and grew up in different cultures with different backgrounds. Each of you has a different personality, different learning style, different preferences, different ways of understanding.

 

But “you” are also a “we”. You are a grain of sand, and you are a grain of sand, but we are also sand. Yes, we are each independent grains of sand, but we would be nothing, we would be practically invisible, without all the other grains of sand. That makes us interdependent – we owe our existence to other people. And I agree with Chioke that if we recognized the degree to which we owed our existence to other people, we might be nicer to other people.

 

I think this was Paul’s point in his letter to the Colossians. Yes, human beings are unique and different, some are Greek and some are Jews, some are religious and others are not, but ultimately, we are all one in Christ. And as such, we are called to be nicer to other people. To practice compassion, kindness, humility, patience, and forgiveness. To celebrate our unique individuality as a grain of sand, while also recognizing our unity as sand. Unity amidst diversity. Out of many, one.

 

 

 

That’s what “E pluribus unum” means. “Out of many, one.” It is one of the mottos of the United States of America and can be found on the Seal of the United States and on most coins in circulation. Dating back to 1782, it originally suggested that out of many colonies or states emerge a single nation. But it has come to suggest a broader idea, that out of many peoples, races, religions, and ancestries has emerged a single people. On Memorial Day, we will celebrate all those brave people who have died for this belief that human unity was possible. We will celebrate the people who have fought for freedom, and equality, and peace among all who are different. Unity amidst diversity. Out of many, one. E pluribus unum.

 

Let me be clear. Unity does not mean uniformity. I love the sand metaphor because the unified entity of “sand” is made up of individual “grains of sand”. You don’t have to lose yourself or your uniqueness or your individuality. Diversity is to be celebrated, not absorbed or erased. I think God must love diversity because of how much diversity was created in our world - the wonderful distinctions of color, texture, taste, and contrast, the rich variations of expression and perspective. Variety is indeed the spice of life. Unity does not mean we lose our variety.

 

Unity means that we recognize the differences among us without labeling the “other” as deficient or not good enough. Unity means being able to assert what we believe without being abrasive toward those who follow a different path. Unity requires that we possess enough of God’s grace to recognize human oneness in the midst of human diversity. How good and pleasant it is when even the starkest differences among us do not prevent us from dwelling together in unity.

 

Unity means realizing that we need each other to survive and to thrive. No matter how successful we are as individuals, we need to realize that we didn’t become successful by ourselves. There is no such thing as a self-made person, just as there is no such thing as a beach consisting of just one grain of sand. Anyone who claims they worked their way to the top all by themselves is mistaken; our entire interconnected and interdependent society was required to get them where they are today.

The richest among us didn’t get rich by themselves; they didn’t make the cars they used to drive to work, or pave the roads they took, they didn’t manufacture the computers or phones they used, they didn’t drive the garbage trucks that disposed of their company’s waste, or pump their building’s septic tanks. They didn’t even make the cup of the coffee they picked up on their way to work.

 

Let’s consider that one cup of coffee, like this one. I think that you can very clearly see how interdependent we all are by considering how many people it took to get this cup of coffee into my hands. It required farmers to plant, harvest, pick, and the sort coffee beans. Workers to process, dry, mill, and roast the beans. Artists to design the packaging. Planes and ships and truck drivers for distribution. Business owners to run coffee shops. Baristas to serve the final product. It required the people who make the trucks for the truck drivers, who make the farming equipment for the farmers, who make the roasting and brewing equipment to turn coffee beans into coffee, and people who make packaging supplies like tape, cardboard boxes, cups, and labels for retailers. It required schools and teachers to educate all these people, daycare centers to take care of all their children, factories and retailers and tons of other workers who make everyone’s clothing, furniture, food, refrigerators and cars, and sanitation workers to clean up after everyone. All of that (and more!) just for this one cup of coffee. Without all of these people, this cup of coffee could not exist.

 

Our very lives depend on interconnectedness and interdependence. We cannot and do not do this thing called life by ourselves. If we could begin to understand this interconnectedness and how much we rely on other people to do anything, then maybe we could start to break down the huge divides that exist in our society.

 

If we truly started to think of each other as interconnected with everyone else whom we live with on this planet, then maybe we would love one another and look out for one another. I have a really beautiful example of this.

 

An anthropologist once proposed a game to kids in a South African Bantu tribe. He put a basket of fruit near a tree and told them they would be running a race, and whoever got to the tree first would win all the fruit. When he gave them the signal to run, instead of making it a competition, the kids all took each other’s hands and ran together, so they all won. Then they sat in a circle enjoying their treats together. When he asked one child why they chose to run as a group when they could have had more fruit individually if they had won on their own, the child said: “How can one of us be happy if all the other ones are sad?”

 

We are interconnected. We are not just individuals living alone in the world but we are part of this complex, diverse interconnected system created by God. I invite you to look at your life in this way, to recognize the degree to which you owe your existence to other people. I invite you to open your hearts and minds, to build relationships across differences instead of divides. We can be one. We can be one in our vision of a nation devoted to the covenants of citizenship that believe that life can be good, that there can be justice for all of creation, and that we can resolve our disagreements without the use of violence. Unity amidst diversity. Out of many, one. E pluribus unum. We are sand. May it be so. Amen.

 

 

 

BENEDICTION:

May we celebrate our unique individuality as humans and our interdependent unity as humankind. Out of many, one. E pluribus unum. We are sand. May we recognize the degree to which we owe our existence to other people, so that we might be nicer to each other. May it be so. Amen.

"Jesus Was Woke", May 11, 2025

 

Jesus Was Woke
By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski
Based on John 4: 1-42
May 11, 2025
First Baptist Church of Gloucester

 

The inspiration for today’s sermon comes from words I heard spoken by the President of the United States on March 4, 2025. During his joint address to congress, he said, “Our country will be woke no longer. We’re getting wokeness out of our schools and out of our military. Wokeness is trouble.  Wokeness is bad.”

 

It’s hard to describe how I felt after I heard those words.

 

Numb might be the most accurate.

 

Shocked… but not really, because words like these from his mouth no longer shock me. 

 

Disgusted, upset, sad. Yes, but no. Something else.

 

I wanted to start this sermon with how those words made me feel. I sat and stared at my blank computer screen with its blinking cursor waiting for me to type my next words, to finish my sentence, to describe why the President’s words stung so badly, but my fingers froze on the keyboard. I had no words.

 

And then I read an essay by someone I grew up with in my home town of Beloit, Wisconsin. His name is Tom Johnson. What he wrote really spoke to me and to my experiences both past and present. It helped articulate what it was that I was feeling. I could have written each and every single one of his words, they so accurately describe me. So these next few paragraphs are his words, only slightly edited by me for clarity.

 

“Time to come clean. I was completely radicalized, awakened even, by the ever so sinister network known as… PBS. The Public Broadcasting Service. Like a lot of kids in my generation, I wasn’t just dropped in front of the TV. I wanted it. I sought it out. Especially the shows that helped me read, count, wonder, and explore. But more than that, the ones that helped me understand life.

 

On these shows, we saw people who didn’t look like us. We saw stories about difference. Stories about disability, empathy, curiosity. We watched how crayons were made. We saw instruments come to life. We listened to quiet but powerful talks about grief, mail carriers, race, kindness. Mr. Rogers didn’t just entertain us. He taught us how to care.

 

Watching PBS get attacked now feels completely backward. People who used to preach kindness now mock kids who look or move or speak in ways they don’t understand. The same people who once said compassion mattered now lean into cruelty to score points or hold power.

 

PBS and Fred Rogers showed us a world that wasn’t scrubbed clean. It was wildly human. We learned [to treat people with] dignity. [We learned how to respond to] everyday challenges with honesty and kindness. We saw inclusion not as some agenda but as part of life. Love and understanding weren’t bonus points. They were the whole point.

 

So when I see people trying to rip all that down, [pejoratively] calling it “woke,” I’m past frustrated. What they’re really afraid of is care. What they push away is compassion. What they hate is education. They don’t want kids learning about others. They want to wall them off from truth. I mean, look around the country and tell me there aren’t efforts to suppress the things we know are true about our own, complicated history.

 

I’m proud to be radicalized [by PBS]. Proud to be shaped [by Sesame Street and Reading Rainbow]. Proud that Fred Rogers’ voice still echoes in my mind.”

 

 

I have to thank Tom for finding the words I was looking for to describe my feelings. What is happening now in our country feels completely backward and I am past frustrated.

 

Woke is not bad. Woke is what I was brought up to be. Woke is not only awareness, but care and compassion.

 

 

 

I agree with Tom that PBS programming was foundational for my own wokeness, but something else influenced me much much more. My church. The bible. Jesus. In addition to PBS, I was radicalized by Jesus. Because Jesus was woke.

 

First, let’s get on the same page about the term “woke”.

 

What does WOKE mean?

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “woke” as being aware of and actively attentive to important societal facts and issues (especially issues of racial and social injustice). Oxford Languages defines woke as being “alert to and concerned about social injustice and discrimination.” If that doesn’t’ describe Jesus, I don’t know what does.

 

Where did “WOKE” come from?

One of the earliest audio recordings of the phrase “stay woke” comes from the spoken afterward of a 1938 protest song called "Scottsboro Boys" by African American folk and blues singer Huddie William Ledbetter (also known by the stage name Lead Belly). The song tells the story of nine Black teenagers falsely accused of abusing two white women in Alabama in 1931. After the song, Lead Belly speaks words of warning to his black listeners to be aware of racial violence and injustice in the South. He said: "So I advise everybody, be a little careful when they go along through there—best stay woke, keep their eyes open.”

 

In the years since, “woke” has continued to be used by African Americans to get people to be aware of social injustices.

 

In 1965, during his commencement address at Oberlin College, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “There is nothing more tragic than to sleep through a revolution. … The great challenge facing every individual graduating today is to remain awake.” In other words…. Stay woke.

 

 

 

 

In 2014, woke gained popularity at the start of the Black Lives Matter movement. The many protests that year spotlighted the social injustices faced by the Black community following the fatal shootings of innocent black men: Trayvon Martin in Florida, Michael Brown in Missouri, and Eric Garner in New York.

 

Dr. Elaine Richardson, professor of African American literature at Ohio State University, states that the term woke, “comes out of the experience of Black people knowing that you have to be conscious of the politics of race, class, gender, and systemic racism, and [be aware of all the] ways that society is stratified and not equal.”

 

Can you see how Jesus fits the description of being woke?

 

Not only was Jesus conscious of the politics of race, class, gender, and systemic racism and aware of all the ways that society is stratified and not equal, he spent his life trying to do something about it.

 

The Gospel record is filled with accounts in which Jesus challenged the imaginations of his listeners with an invitation to the wokeness of the diversity, equity, and inclusion of the Kingdom of God. Jesus preached that the kingdom of God is not limited to those who look, think, talk, feel, and act like us. He preached that the kingdom included all people: Jews, Gentiles, Romans, Syrians, Greeks, Samaritans, sinners, saints, men, women, children, people with disabilities, people of all ages, classes, backgrounds, social statuses and belief systems.

 

And Jesus practiced what he preached. Jesus drank wine with sinners, ate dinner with tax collectors, healed unclean lepers, touched the untouchable, invited poor people to banquets, welcomed the little children, fed the hungry, and spoke up for the most vulnerable members of society.

 

Especially as this is Mother’s Day, I want to remind you of Jesus’ extraordinarily woke actions towards women.  He spoke with women, showed them respect, chose them to be the first people he revealed himself to on Easter morning, invited them to follow him, and gave them leadership roles in the early church.

The story of the Samarian Woman at the Well is just one of many examples of Jesus being woke in his ministry.

 

To fully understand the significance of this story, here is some background:

 

The Samaritan woman lived during a time of intense social and religious tensions between Jews and Samaritans. Jews considered Samaritans "half-breeds", unclean, heretics, second class citizens, outsiders. Jews often avoided travel through Samaria, and always avoided contact with Samaritans.

 

The Samaritan woman also lived during a time of intense patriarchy. Men were generally not supposed to speak to women, especially those they didn't know well, especially those outside of their own religious group, especially in public.

 

But Jesus chose to travel through Samaria, a deliberate act of defiance against the prevailing social norms of the time. But even more radically, while in Samaria he chose to initiate a conversation (the longest of Jesus’ conversations recorded in the bible) with someone who ought to have been avoided at all costs- a person who lacked power and wealth, a person who faced social stigma due to multiple marriages, a person who was both a woman AND a Samaritan.

 

By asking the Samaritan woman for a drink at Jacob’s well, Jesus was breaking racial, social, religious, class, and gender barriers. Jesus was woke.

 

Perhaps the most woke thing Jesus ever said was “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” He said it summed up the entire law and prophets. It was Jesus’ highest ethic – the Golden Rule.

 

A few weeks ago I was driving through Topsfield and I saw a yard sign that said Follow the Golden Rule (and it had a little asterisk). At the bottom of the sign, the asterisk was explained: some exceptions apply.

 

NO. No no no no no. There are no exceptions. I am past frustrated that something as simple as the golden rule can be so wrongly misunderstood. Jesus loves all people. No exceptions. Thus, we are to love all people. No exceptions.

It is Good News that Jesus is woke, that Jesus is awake to systemic injustice, that Jesus preached and practiced a radical message of love, forgiveness, and justice, that Jesus is attentive to and caring about the needs of the marginalized in our society, that Jesus wants all of us, everyone, to flourish. And Jesus calls to be woke, too, to be loving, and forgiving, and attentive to the needs of others.

 

There is a quote going around social media attributed to the new pope, Leo the Fourteenth:  “To be woke is not a threat. It is a calling.”

 

I couldn’t find confirmation that he actually said that, but based on other things he has said and done, it is not totally out of the realm of possibility that he at least believes in that sentiment. I certainly do.

 

To be called woke in a world that sleeps through suffering is no insult. It is Gospel. Woke means awakened by compassion. Guided by truth. Humbled by grace. Committed to justice – not just for some, but for all. We will build the kingdom not with walls but with love. So be awake. Be loving. Be woke.  No asterisk. No exceptions.  Amen.

 

 

Works Cited:

https://www.vox.com/culture/21437879/stay-woke-wokeness-history-origin-evolution-controversy

 

Essay by Tom Johnson, facebook post May 9, 2025

 

"Unlock the Doors", April 27, 2025

 

Unlock the Doors
By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski
Based on John 20: 19-22
Topsfield Congregational Church

April 27, 2025

 The fear is real today.

People who are doing what is right, doing what they know they need to do -- protesting, speaking up, challenging the status quo -- are facing harsh consequences. These actions carry a real danger. 

 

You could be fined.

New York doctor Maggie Carpenter was fined more than $100,000 by a Texas judge for providing reproductive health care to a woman in Dallas. Fellow doctor Ingrid Frengle-Burke said, “The legal consequences that doctors like Carpenter may now face simply for protecting, advocating for, caring for, and saving their patients’ lives are shocking and dangerous.”

 

You could lose your job.

Arkansas librarian Patty Hector was fired for keeping books on the shelves about race relations and L.G.B.T.Q. issues. She said, “I could not stay silent as calls for censorship targeted marginalized communities and undermined our library’s mission. Losing my job was devastating, but I refuse to let these actions go unchallenged.”

 

You could lose your citizenship and be deported.

Turkish PhD student and former Fulbright scholar, Rümeysa Öztürk, was arrested at Tufts University in Somerville by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents, sent to a Louisiana detention facility, denied bond, and had her visa revoked, all for writing an op-ed in her campus newspaper that advocated for justice in Palestine. Her attorney said, “It was fully constitutionally protected speech, no crimes committed at all … If this is allowed, anyone could be punished for anything they say.”

 

The fear was real 2000 years ago.

Jesus spoke up against a repressive regime and he was murdered. His disciples are devastated by the death of their leader, their mentor, their friend. Their world has been torn apart. And they are afraid. They locked the doors and met in secret, because there was no telling what the authorities might do next. There was real danger out there. Who knew whether the people who had killed their leader would now come after them? The last thing on their minds was the living out of Jesus’ message of peace and love and hope for a better world.

 

Fear is real. It can prevent you from doing what is right, from doing what you know you ought to do. The disciples shut themselves behind locked doors. They gave up on making a difference. They lost hope and they were afraid for their lives.

 

In the midst of this hopelessness and fear, Jesus appears. Even though Jesus had died, the disciples saw him in that room, they felt his presence, and they heard his voice. “Peace be with you!” Suddenly, their fear is gone. The disciples are filled with peace. They are not afraid anymore.

 

As I imagine this scene with the disciples, hiding in a room behind locked doors and being revived by the peace of Christ, I can’t help but imagine this one scene from the 1990 movie Home Alone. In case you’ve never seen it, actor Macauley Culkin plays the main character, an 8-year-old boy named Kevin McAllister who is accidentally left home alone while his family travels to France for Christmas. In one scene, two thieves attempt to break into his home while he was there all by himself. Kevin gets scared and runs upstairs to hide underneath his parents’ bed. As he is hiding, he has a realization, and says, “This is ridiculous. Only a wimp would be hiding under a bed. And I can't be a wimp. I'm the man of the house.” He then gets up and run downstairs, out the front door, and onto the sidewalk and he starts yelling: “Hey, I'm not afraid anymore! I said, I'm not afraid anymore! Do you hear me? I'm not afraid anymore.”

The disciples are not afraid anymore. They are no longer frozen with fear. Jesus shows up in the midst of their fear, moves past closed doors, and greets them with peace. Jesus doesn’t chastise them for being scared and locking the doors. There is no blame, no fault, no judgement, no harsh criticism, just a loving and gentle breeze of peace. The peace of Jesus gives them comfort, confidence, bravery. It revives their hope. And they remember. They remember what they are supposed to do. They remember why they were chosen. They hear Jesus remind them that they have a mission. “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And then they feel the spirit of God wash over them. They can do this. Jesus gives them peace to alleviate their fears, encouragement to get up, and inspiration to continue the work that they started together. Sitting around in fear and inaction wasn’t going to make any kind of difference in the world. Jesus helped the disciples find their voices. They were no longer scared to stand up for themselves and for others, they moved on from death and pain and suffering and found hope and light and love.

 

In a 2010 collection of poetry called “The River of Winged Dreams” African American poet Aberjhani wrote: “Hearts rebuilt from hope resurrect dreams killed by hate.” The resurrection of Jesus resurrected the hopes and dreams of the disciples that had been killed by the authorities. The disciples got up and got back to work to bring about the Kingdom of God. They formed communities, spread the message, traveled far and wide to make a difference. Imperial execution and a tomb couldn’t stop the movement. It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over! They weren’t afraid anymore.

 

Jesus’ story didn’t end with death. Darkness turned into light, despair turned into hope, death turned into life. Stories of this amazing resurrection spread across the land by people who were sick and tired of being sick and tired. The unfortunates organized. The people stood up for what needed to be done and proclaimed: "We aren't going away. There is a new kingdom coming. We aren’t afraid anymore."

 

We live in scary times. The danger is real. But not everyone is frozen by fear, hiding behind locked doors or underneath the bed. Hundreds of thousands of people have demonstrated and protested in all fifty states to register their discontent with the new administration’s unjust policies. Fired National Park employees scaled Yosemite’s El Capitan and draped an upside-down American flag—a symbol of distress—across one of the cliffs. Cory Booker, a US senator from New Jersey, delivered a historic twenty-five-hour speech in defiance of the President’s agenda.

 

On Easter morning in 1959, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr preached this: “Let us not be disillusioned. Let us not lose faith. So often we’ve been crucified. We’ve been buried in numerous graves—the grave of economic insecurity, the grave of exploitation, the grave of oppression. We’ve watched justice trampled over and truth crucified. But I’m here to tell you this morning, Easter reminds us that it won’t always be that way. Easter reminds us that God has a light that can shine amid all of the darkness.”

Three things happened in that locked room on that first Easter night. Jesus gave the disciples peace to release their fears. He reminded them of their mission to bring about the Kingdom of God on earth. And he breathed on them the empowering breath of the holy spirit. The disciples couldn’t accomplish their mission alone, and neither can we. We too can release our fears and experience the peace of Christ.  We too have been given the gift of the holy spirit. When you get scared, when life gets hard, when you’ve lost your way, breathe in the breath of Jesus, let it fill you with life anew, that you may love the way Jesus loves and do what Jesus would do. Like the disciples, we too are called to carry out the mission that began with Jesus.  We cannot lock ourselves up, or be too scared to speak up, or be too afraid to do the right thing. Our mission is to do whatever we can to try and nudge us in the direction of a better world, a world of abundant peace and love, a world that Jesus gave his life for.  

Breathe in the spirit, then unlock the doors and shout: Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Do you hear me? I’m not afraid anymore. Amen.

Benediction:

Unlock the doors.

Be comforted by the peace of Christ.

Breathe in the breath of God, let it fill you with life anew.

That you may love the way God loves and do what God would do. Amen.

 

"I Thirst", April 18, 2025

 

I Thirst
By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski
Good Friday, April 18, 2025
Trinity Congregational Church, Gloucester, MA

 

Jesus said, “I Thirst.” 2.2 billion people around the world thirst, because they do not have access to safe drinking water. Every 2 minutes a child dies from a water or sanitation-related disease. For the past 16 years, the world had been making some progress. Programs funded by US AID had helped 70 million people access water. But there have been drastic cuts to these programs. 86% of projects related to safe water and sanitation services have now been terminated, including an Oxfam project in the Democratic Republic of Congo. It operated the only source of water for over 250,000 people who live in refugee camps to escape armed conflict in their villages.

 

Denise thirsts. She is 28 and seven months pregnant, and she doesn't eat every day. Aid distribution has ended at her refugee camp, leaving her without sufficient food, basic necessities, or access to clean water.

 

Feza thirsts. She is 34 and her two children have severe acute malnutrition. Fourraz, the oldest, has Noma, a severe sepsis of the face that is linked to poor living conditions.

 

Zawadi thirsts. He is 8 years old. He has been suffering from diarrhea and vomiting for days. He and his family have no access to showers or toilets.

 

Asifiwe (ah-SEE-fee-way) thirsts. She is 22, and is pregnant with her third child. She said, “It is really difficult to be pregnant in the camp. We are four people sleeping in a tiny hut, latrines are often full, and I do not eat enough. It is a daily struggle.” 

 

Denise, Feza, Fourraz, Zawadi, and Asifiwe are real people behind the numbers and the cuts. They are living, breathing human beings, thirsting not only for water, but for justice.

“I thirst” is a declaration of the profound suffering that Jesus experienced in the last moments of his life. His body is torn and beaten. His scalp is punctured by a crown of thorns. He is broken and humiliated. He hangs from the cross in the desert and he is parched. But his thirst goes much deeper than his physical suffering. Jesus thirsts for justice. He thirsts for a world that is better than this. He thirsts for the kingdom of God to come to Earth as it is in Heaven. He thirsts for us to love each other.

 

Jesus once said, “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. Truly I tell you, whatever you do for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you do for me.” When we serve others, when we help to quench human need, it is like we are giving a cup of cold water to Jesus on the cross. We have the opportunity every day to quench Jesus’ thirst by caring for each other.  

 

Real people, brothers and sisters of Jesus, children of God created in God’s very own image, people like Denise, Feza, Fourraz, Zawadi, and Asifiwe (ah-SEE-fee-way) are hungry and thirsty. The Director of Oxfam in the DRC, Manenji Mangundu, said that “US aid cuts have put everything at risk. With little access to clean water and sanitation, livelihoods are deteriorating; cases of measles, cholera and mpox are spreading and straining an already fragile healthcare system. It's a catastrophe. People are going to die.”

 

We cannot stand for this. We must raise our voices. We must wave our palm branches and protest in the streets. We must overturn the tables of injustice. We must speak the truth, we must state the facts, we must share people’s stories. We must do everything we can to ensure that the least of these get the care they need and deserve.

 

From the mouth of the man who spent his life and his ministry as a servant comes one final plea for us to love and to serve others. Jesus thirsts for us to DO SOMETHING. May we find the strength and courage to quench that thirst. Amen.

 

"Shattering the Status Quo", April 13, 2025

 

Shattering the Status Quo

By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski

Based on Luke 19:28-40

Palm Sunday, April 13, 2025

First Baptist Church of Gloucester

 

Scott Gilbertson is a 68-year-old military veteran from Syracuse, NY. He was one of thousands of people who protested at events held across the country last Saturday to show their anger and frustration with the current administration’s attacks on immigrants, federal programs, humanitarian aid, government jobs, and international trade. When Scott was interviewed at the protest, he said he felt like he was a “whim away from being homeless” because of threats to his veteran benefits. He has already lost his doctor and has had medical tests canceled because of budget cuts at the Veterans Administration. He lives off of his Social Security income, so cuts in Social Security would be devastating. He wanted his protest to send a strong message to those in power. Scott said: “I hope they hear the status quo has to change.”

 

Status Quo is an interesting term. Its classic definition is “the existing state of affairs, especially regarding social or political issues.” But I prefer how Ronald Reagan once defined it. He said, “Status Quo, you know, is Latin for ‘the mess we’re in.”

 

Today’s status quo, the current mess we are in, revolves around greed, selfishness, power, war, violence, bullying, lies, inequality, anger, discrimination, racism, sexism, all the isms. Today’s status quo is actually a lot like the status quo in Jerusalem 2000 years ago. Some things never change. But Palm Sunday is an invitation to change. Most people imagine Palm Sunday as a day of celebration. A joyous party, waving around palm fronds, dancing in the streets. Which it was. But it was also a day of protest to shatter the status quo.

 

Let’s imagine what that first Palm Sunday might have been like. It’s the week of the Jewish holiday of Passover, a beautiful spring day in Jerusalem, and the city is buzzing with excitement. Families are stumbling over themselves to prepare.

You aren’t going to believe who’s come to town! Women grab cloaks. Men cut palms. Kids organize confetti. City officials sweep the temple and clean the streets. His presence demands it. His followers love it. All kinds of people are in the streets: Old, young, and everyone in-between. Everyone wants to get a glimpse of his royalty. Everyone wants to see his entourage. It’s not every day Pontius Pilate comes to town.

 

People always lined the streets when Rome came to town. Pilate was the extension of Caesar. He was the face of Rome in Israel, so when he rolled up, people noticed. People cheered. People waved palms as Pilate entered because in the Roman Empire, palm branches were a symbol of triumph and victory.

 

Pontius Pilate — along with a grand imperial procession riding in on majestic war horses and wielding gleaming swords – came to Jerusalem because it was a holiday: holidays brought crowds, and crowds brought potential protests and uprisings. They were there to maintain the status quo of power and wealth for the elite.

 

From the other side of the city, Jesus approaches.  Not on horseback, not accompanied by an elite entourage, and not with any weapons. Instead, he rides in on a donkey, accompanied by poor people, fishermen, women, and outcasts, proclaiming peace. It was a direct action against the occupying forces, against the status quo. It was an in-your-face mockery. 

 

Pilate came to maintain law and order. Jesus came to fulfill the law and subvert the order.

Two ideologies, two realms, two completely different stories parading the streets of Jerusalem. It was a powder keg about to explode, and people didn’t know what to do. They should be at the West Gate bowing to Rome. They should be throwing down cloaks and waving palms for Pilate. They should be singing, dancing, and witnessing the spectacle that is Caesar and the Roman Empire, but something new is taking place.

 

Nobody is supposed to notice Jesus entering. He is a nobody from nowhere. He’s riding a ridiculous donkey. But people notice. The celebration reserved for Pilate is transferred to Jesus. The palms reserved for Pilate were waved for Jesus. The people danced and celebrated in the streets not for Pilate but for Jesus. Palm Sunday is the moment Caesar’s old realm finally comes face-to-face with God’s new realm. And these two realms could not be more different.

 

The old realm, the status quo, is controlled by Rome. The old realm says, “Caesar is Lord.”  It’s for the elite and the rich and its methods are violence and exploitation. The new realm is controlled by God. The new realm says, “Jesus is Lord.” It’s for the lowly and downtrodden and its methods are peace, servanthood, gentleness, humility, mercy, generosity, and compassion.

 

All Jesus ever talked about was how the Kingdom of God redefines everything we know. Jesus’ followers called him ‘King’, but he was not like any king they’d ever experienced. He didn’t flaunt his power, he didn’t hoard his wealth or tax his people just to grow more comfortable in his isolated palace, he didn’t exploit the weak. He was not a king who ruled by force or fear, but by love and sacrifice. Jesus was a Servant-King, an un-king.

 

I love how theologian John Shuck describes it: “This new kingdom is an anti-empire run by an un-king.  Its way is peace through justice, and justice through non-violence.  Its royal court consists of poets and crazy minstrels who think the poor should be filled with good things.  The un-king's army is a band of off-key resisters who keep getting in the way as they sing for peace. Anyone who is ever left out, despised, rejected, forgotten, spit on, looked over, stood up, washed up, or left behind is in the un-king's cabinet.”

 

Jesus’ message awoke something in the people. They felt heard and seen and valued. They came together. And this was a huge threat to Rome. The crowd's enthusiastic reception of Jesus, declaring him "King," disrupted the established power structures and the authority of the Roman Empire. Jesus's entry into Jerusalem, riding a donkey and being met with palm branches and shouts of "Hosanna," was a direct challenge to the status quo of the Roman Empire on their war horses.

 

Two processions marched through the streets of Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday. Which procession do you want to be a part of?

 

Are you going to march with kingdom of the empire?  A kingdom that protects the rich and powerful, uses military might, acts like a bully, promotes lies, seeks revenge, hoards resources, widens the gap between the rich and the poor, denies rights to people, limits free speech, prevents women from getting the medical care they need, stops funding humanitarian aid around the world, and discriminates against those who are different?

 

Or are you going to take to the streets with the kingdom of God, which promises freedom, justice, mercy, and enough for all? Every Sunday we pray for God’s kingdom to be here on Earth as it is Heaven. Now’s our chance to practice what we preach. We cannot remain silent, we must not give up, we must do something, we must speak up. We must join with people like veteran Scott Gilbertson and protest the status quo. We must work to clean up the mess we’re in.

 

It could mean literally gathering in the streets to protest. It could mean commenting on a friend’s hateful and blatantly false facebook post. It could mean using someone’s preferred name and pronouns. It could mean writing letters and making phone calls. It could mean voting in absolutely every single election. It could mean a lot of things. But it cannot mean silence or complacency.

 

If we take Jesus’ life and ministry and message and death SERIOUSLY, we must join his parade. The parade we choose to attend will make all the difference. Choose wisely. Amen.

"It’s Not Fair!", March 30, 2025

 

It’s Not Fair!
By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski
Based on Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Trinity Congregational Church, Gloucester, MA
March 30, 2025

 

This year, 2025, marks the 50th anniversary of the birth of modern special education. In 1975, Congress passed what is now known as the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act or IDEA.

 

NPR did a story this week about IDEA and they interviewed Stephanie Smith Lee, the policy and advocacy co-director at the National Down Syndrome Congress. She said, “It's interesting to think back before IDEA was passed in 1975. Back then, there were many students who were not allowed in school before the law passed. Over a million children with disabilities were completely excluded from school. There were states that had laws that would not allow children with intellectual disabilities like my daughter to attend school. And there were a hundred thousand institutionalized. So, if you think back 50 years ago where students were sitting, a lot of them were not sitting in schools. And over the last 50 years, we've made huge progress in getting those students in the schools and having the opportunity to learn. A student now has an individualized education program, which is a plan that determines where they're going to get educated and what kind of services and support they're going to have. This is critically important to students and their families.”

 

I heard this interview during a story, not to celebrate or commemorate the 50^th anniversary of IDEA, but to express the fear over how the dismantling of the Department of Education will also likely dismantle IDEA and how that will detrimentally impact students with disabilities.

 

Stephanie explained that the Department of Education oversees IDEA. The monitoring that takes place at the federal level makes sure that students sitting in the classroom get the services and support that they're entitled to under the law. The department issues regulations, guidance, and even offers technical assistance to help states understand how to follow the law, and there are a number of federal grants issued by the department to help fund these programs. All of this is now at risk if the Department of Education is eliminated. All of the progress that has been made trying to include children with disabilities will be destroyed.

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about why programs like these are now being eliminated. Special education, humanitarian aid, all kinds of federal assistance for people in need. I think it’s because if you are not a person in need, you don’t get anything tangible from these programs, and that doesn’t seem fair. With these federal programs, people in need get something, people who need nothing get nothing. That’s what makes equity different from equality. Equality gives everyone the same thing. Equity gives different people different things based on what they need.

 

Perhaps the best-known illustration of the difference between equal­i­ty and equi­ty is a cartoon drawn by Angus Maguire for The Interaction Institute for Social Change. The image is of three peo­ple stand­ing behind a fence, watch­ing a base­ball game. The three people are all dif­fer­ent heights: the tallest of the three is able to see over the fence while the oth­er two are not tall enough to see over the fence.  

 

In the Equality version of the cartoon, each person is given the same sized box­ to stand on to help them see. The tallest per­son, who didn’t need a box in the first place, now stands even high­er, con­tin­u­ing to enjoy a per­fect view of the game.

The sec­ond per­son can now see over the fence. But the third per­son, even with the help of the box, is still too short to see over.

 

In the Equi­ty ver­sion of the cartoon, the tallest per­son does not receive a box and is still able to enjoy the game. The sec­ond per­son is giv­en one box to stand on so he can see, but the third per­son is giv­en two box­es to stand on, so he can also finally see.

 

It doesn’t seem fair that one person gets one box, one person gets two boxes, and one person gets no box at all. But what is fair is the outcome—now they can all see the game. Equi­ty doesn’t give everyone the same resources; it con­sid­ers the spe­cif­ic needs or cir­cum­stances of a per­son and pro­vides the types of resources that they specifically need. Not everyone has the same needs so not everyone needs to same resources. I understand that that doesn’t feel fair. But just because it doesn’t feel fair, that doesn’t mean it’s not right.

 

The 15^th chapter of the Gospel of Luke begins with some Pharisees and scribes complaining about Jesus’ association with socially marginalized people. Actually, all throughout the gospels, the pharisees complain about Jesus. It’s not fair, they say. Jesus is not being fair. He’s spending time with sinners, he’s giving to the poor, he’s talking to women, he’s including children, he’s touching the untouchables, he wants us to give up all our wealth, and love our enemies, and give away our clothes and food. It’s not fair.

 

This time, after the pharisees complain about Jesus dining with sinful people, Jesus defends himself by sharing a parable. It is often called the prodigal son, but it really should be called the prodigal father. The word prodigal means "recklessly extravagant".  And while, yes, that does seem to describe the son’s lavish lifestyle after he left home, it also is an apt description of the father's welcome home party for his son. Reckless and extravagant! Even the father’s older son thinks so. It’s not fair that his little brother gets this big party thrown for him after he made every mistake in the book. The older brother did NOTHING wrong, and he never got a party. It’s not fair!  The older son played by the rules, and the prodigal didn’t. Yet the Father loves both sons, even if their deserving is unequal. It’s not fair at all!

 

That’s what God’s grace is like. Unfair. Some people do really really bad things. And others of us only do little bad things. But we all get the same grace bestowed upon us. God’s grace is recklessly extravagant. God gives us unconditional grace, all of us, me, you, our families, our friends, our neighbors, even our enemies. It may seem unfair and extravagantly reckless, but even the absolute worst people in this world are given God’s amazing grace. It’s not fair. And that’s the point. God’s grace is totally undeserved, unmerited, unearnable, and unexpected. If you do practically nothing wrong in your life or you do absolutely everything wrong in your life, you are forgiven. You are given grace by God. You are welcomed into God’s open arms. No matter what. And it’s not fair.

 

Jesus told this parables to the Pharisees to tell them that this is how God’s kingdom works. Jesus hung out with sinners and lepers and tax collectors and women and children and the lost and the lonely and the needy because that’s how God’s kingdome works. God doles out grace and unconditional acceptance and love to everyone, no matter what, no questions asked. God’s love violates the very principle of fairness. The same grace and love is given to all: to those who have many sins, and to those who have few. To those who have been “good” in our understanding of the term, and to those who have been bad. To those who are broken and to those who are perfect. To those who have special needs and to those who need nothing. It’s not fair, or deserved, or earned. It isn’t “right” in the sense that we see “rightness.” It doesn’t match our standards of fairness. But in God’s kingdom, we have to put those ideas of “fairness” and “deserving” aside, because grace obliterates them.

 

In the end, it does not matter what we’ve done or failed to do. We are loved, cared for, and met in our place of need without being identified as “deserving” or not. If you’re hungry, you’re deserving of food, no questions asked. If you’re without shelter, you deserve to be safely and properly housed, no questions asked. If you’ve made mistakes, you are forgiven, no questions asked. If you are lost, every resource imaginable is used to make sure you are found, no questions asked. If you need something, you are given what you need. No questions asked.

 

God loves us unconditionally and God invites us to love others as God loves us- Unconditionally. No questions asked. No proof required. Let us love unconditionally – by loving even if you won’t be loved back. Giving without expecting anything in return. Helping even if people don't deserve it. Picking up trash even if it's not yours. Fighting for special education, humanitarian aid, food stamps, and social security, even if you yourself do not need any of these supports. It won’t feel fair and that’s the point. Be reckless in your grace. Be extravagant in your love. Amen.