Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany | February 16, 2025

Laura Meyers
Standing on the Level Place: A Call to Solidarity and Justice

Luke 6:17-26

The Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray said, “When my brothers try to draw a circle to exclude me, I shall draw a larger circle to include them.” 

In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus does something remarkable—he comes down from the mountain and stands on a level place (Luke 6:17). This is not just a geographical detail; it is a theological statement. Unlike Matthew’s Gospel, where Jesus delivers the Beatitudes from a mountaintop, evoking Moses and the giving of the Law, Luke places Jesus in the midst of the people, eye to eye with those who are suffering.

Jesus stands on level ground among the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the despised. And who is gathered there with him? People from Judea and Jerusalem, Tyre and Sidon—Jews and Gentiles, insiders and outsiders, those with privilege and those without. This movement reveals a central truth about the Kingdom of God: it is not found in places of power but among those who suffer. Christ stands in solidarity with the marginalized, where God’s love upends the world, lifting the lowly and bringing the mighty to humility.

And what does Jesus say? He doesn’t congratulate the powerful or affirm the status quo. He blesses those who are poor, hungry, grieving, and hated. But he also issues warnings—the “woes” to those who are rich, comfortable, and well-fed.

The billionaire Elon Musk recently posted a meme deriding those who rely on federal programs, calling them “the parasite class.” The contradiction is striking—Musk himself has profited immensely from government contracts for Tesla and SpaceX, yet he aligns himself with policies that strip aid from the most vulnerable. His precise comment, “Watching Trump slash federal programs knowing it doesn’t affect you because you’re not a member of the Parasite Class,” lays bare the disdain some of the wealthiest hold for those in need. President Trump, in turn, has handed Musk sweeping power through the newly created Department of Government Efficiency, allowing him to reshape agencies to serve the interests of the ultra-rich while dismantling essential safety nets for Americans.

Diana Butler Bass, an Episcopal Priest and author, reminds us that Luke’s Gospel consistently centers God’s favor on the poor. From Mary’s Magnificat to Jesus’ parables, the message is clear: wealth and power are not signs of divine favor. Instead, the poor reveal the heart of God’s compassion. “The poor are NOT parasites,” She writes. “It is among the poor that the commonwealth of God is made manifest.”

Yet this is not the world we live in. In our society, the poor are not blessed; they are condemned. The hungry are ignored. The grieving are told to “move on.” Jesus does not offer an escape from suffering but a way through it—a call to a parallel world that exists if we dare to follow him. A world where those who suffer are centered, and the Church stands not with power but with the vulnerable.

Luke’s Gospel forces us to ask: Where are the level places today? Where are suffering, exclusion, and injustice happening in our world? And most importantly, where is Christ calling us to stand?

This past week, The Seattle Times published an article, With Trans People Under Attack, Time for Allies to Step Up, detailing the increasing hostility and violence against transgender and nonbinary people. We are witnessing a surge in anti-trans legislation, public harassment, and systemic discrimination. This is not an accident. It is no coincidence that those most targeted are the ones who have already been pushed to society’s margins.

Jesus’ words echo into our present moment:
 “Blessed are you when people hate, exclude, revile, and defame you.”

To all who have been rejected for who they are, Christ stands with you. Not on the mountaintops of privilege but on the level ground of suffering and rejection. And for those of us who call ourselves allies, we must ask: Where are we standing? Are we watching from a safe distance, or are we stepping into solidarity?

This is not just about personal kindness; it is about structural justice. Our churches must be spaces of radical welcome and fearless advocacy. We must embody solidarity in tangible ways, resisting policies and narratives that demean and endanger the beloved children of God.

Another urgent level place today is our country’s treatment of immigrants. The Episcopal Church recently joined a lawsuit challenging ICE’s presence in houses of worship, arguing that these actions violate fundamental religious freedoms. Our churches have long been sanctuaries—places of refuge for those fleeing violence and seeking safety. When ICE violates these spaces, they do more than break the law; they break the sacred trust that religious communities have built with those in need.

This past weekend, we commemorated the signing of Executive Order 9066, which led to the forced incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II. We gathered at the Puyallup Fairgrounds—the very site where families were detained before being sent to incarceration camps. We remembered how fear and racism stripped people of their homes, businesses, and dignity. And we recognize that history does not stay in the past. The same forces that dehumanized Japanese Americans are at work today—against immigrants, LGBTQ+ people, and the poor.

We say, Never Again is Now. But Never Again is Now is not a passive statement. It is a commitment to resistance. It is a call to stand on level ground.

The recent murder of Sam Nordquist, a transgender man, underscores the deadly consequences of the rhetoric and policies that demonize marginalized people. Hate does not exist in isolation; it is fueled by systemic discrimination and societal indifference. The tragic loss of Sam is not just an individual act of violence—it is the result of a culture that refuses to protect its most vulnerable. We must say their name. We must demand justice. We must not look away.

The struggle for LGBTQ+ rights is not new. The Stonewall Riots in 1969 marked a turning point in the fight for equality, and today, the Stonewall National Monument stands as a testament to the courage of those who resisted. Yet, in a deliberate act of erasure, the National Park Service recently removed the word “transgender” from its website’s description of the monument, reducing the movement to “LGB.” This revisionist history dishonors the legacy of trans activists like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, who were at the forefront of the uprising. We must reject such attempts to erase trans history and fight for an honest telling of the past.

And now, we see the threat of authoritarianism emerging in new ways. Trump, who openly defies the rule of law, has stated, “If it saves the country, it’s not illegal.” This is a chilling assertion that invites the erosion of democracy under the guise of national salvation. His administration’s systematic dismantling of food and medical assistance exposes a clear and deliberate cruelty—one that aligns with the woes Jesus warned us about.

So, beloved siblings in Christ, we have a choice to make. Will we base our worth on the fleeting values of this world—wealth, comfort, status—or will we root ourselves in Christ’s radical love? A love that calls us to stand with the suffering, lift the marginalized, and resist the forces that oppress and exclude?

If we are not standing in the level places, we are not standing where Jesus is.
If we are not advocating for the poor, the excluded, the grieving, and the oppressed, then we are not living out the Gospel.
If we are not speaking up—against anti-trans legislation, against ICE’s presence in sacred spaces, against historical erasure, against authoritarian leaders who seek to dismantle democracy—then we are missing the very heart of Christ’s message.

But here is the good news: we are invited. Right here, right now, Jesus calls us to step onto the level place with him. To stand in solidarity, to speak truth, to embody love.

Let us go. Let us stand in the level places. Let us draw larger circles. Let us be the Church. Amen.