Still I Rise

The readings today describe the increasing tension and the tightening net of people’s anger and hatred towards those who are trying to do God’s work.  People speak ill of and try to do harm to them.

What we might easily miss in the first reading, however, is one line at the end of the passage from Jeremiah that says, “For he has rescued the life of the poor from the power of the wicked.” The reading today is not just about hatred and jealousy in the human condition, it is specifically about how people press down upon and take advantage of the poor and oppressed.

If this blog were a live conversation, I’d have us all brainstorm right now how people and systems take advantage of the poor.  My perspective is that when we take advantage of someone, it often suggests that we don’t think too highly of them.

Again if we were live, I’d have us brainstorm another list of what the collective “we” (not necessarily any specific person) thinks about people who live in poverty.

Put these lists together – about our assumptions of the poor and the ways that they are taken advantage of – and we would have quite an indictment not only of the systems but also of those who go along with those systems.

Then in the gospel we encounter Jesus who saw it as his mission to “bring good news to the poor.” To do this he joined in solidarity with them and made it a point to eat with and be with those on the margins. He took their side, advocated for them, healed them and told them that they were loved by God and by him.

Jesus is confronted by his fellow believers for his “blasphemy,” and they have literally picked up rocks to throw at him because they say he’s claiming he’s equal to God. He says, “What are you upset about? Look at what I do, and then tell me, isn’t that what God does in the world?”

Jesus’ response today reminds me a bit of the poet and writer Maya Angelou in her poem Still I Rise.  Jesus has a confidence and certainty that comes from a different authority – a deep inner authority. He knows who he is and what he needs to be about in this world and isn’t going to let their disapproval and harsh words deter him. I would imagine that this bothered his critics as well – much like Angelou suggests that her detractors want to see her with a bowed head and lowered eyes.

I would imagine that Jesus could have easily said these words today as part of his gospel response:

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

We know from history that change is going to come and that justice will prevail. Part of our work is to try to discern it as it is happening in front of us and to not resist it.  For today, think of all the parts of you that long to be free or whole. Reflect on all the people in the world that long to be free and whole. And think about the many ways people resist our personal freedom or the collective freedom of others. Hear God’s promise that, eventually, all chains will be broken. All chains.