Popularity Contest

Popularity is important, isn’t it?

Abraham Smith asks, “How much of our lives are influenced not by what is right but by what is popular?” What guides our pursuits? Is it the video views, the social media clicks, or the sizes of a crowd? Is it the chase for what is popular—what’s fashionable, what’s trendy, what even sells?”

In the musical adaptation of Wicked, Glinda (who of course is very popular herself) sings and tries to convince Elphaba that she can make her pop-you-ler-lar.

She sings “Celebrated heads of state Or specially great communicators! Did they have brains or knowledge? Don't make me laugh! They were popular!”

At first in this passage, it would seem that Jesus is. In Galilee it said all praised him. At the temple after he read from Isaiah all eyes were fixed on him. They received his gracious words. They wondered to themselves, “is this not Joseph’s boy?” How does this carpenter’s kid now come and speak with such authority? I imagine their eyes open like a kid at Christmas. Jaws dropping. Wow!

But then Jesus talks to them about some Old Testament prophets (Elijah and Elisha to be specific) and says no prophet is accepted in his hometown and suddenly they are leading him to a cliff trying to throw him over it. What is it that made them yank out their angry eyes? What gives?

Jesus says likely you will say “Doctor, cure yourself” or do the things here that I did in Capernaum. Now in Luke’s gospel this is interesting because we don’t hear about all that Jesus did in Capernaum until immediately after this passage. But the point is, had they heard about these miracles? Were they expecting them too in their hometown? Maybe.

But what about Elijah and Elisha? Where did they find God working? Where were they called to? These two Old Testament prophets not only consistently performed miracles but also went to extend the work of God beyond Israel.

There were many widows in Israel, but Elijah was sent out to the widow of Zarapheth in Sidon.

There were many with skin diseases, but Elisha was sent out to the leper Naaman from Syria.

Jesus had already read from Isaiah about how his ministry was going to be one of release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind and good news for the poor. But when he began to bring up Elijah and Elisha, something in the air began to shift. As Karoline Lewis says, this “ reveals for whom Jesus has come — the widows, the lepers, the outsiders. Jesus’ whole ministry will be for the least of these, over and over again. Moreover, Jesus is for everyone. Both Elijah and Elisha take God into places where God was not thought to be and had no business being. It is these words of inclusion, Jesus’ own interpretation of his ministry, the real reason for God in a manger, that elicit a very quick transition from awe to rage for the hearers of Jesus’ words.”

Jesus’s message of God at work of those on the margins inspired anger. Jesus’s message of inclusion was enough for them to want to throw him over a cliff.

Popular no more.

But as Albert Einstein said, “What's popular isn't always right and what's right isn't always popular.

In our own hearing today, we have a choice about how we will respond to the gospel, to Jesus’s radical, ridiculous, inclusive love that reaches out to all people.

“But I would never drive Jesus off a cliff” we say. I know better.

There are a lot of things that are good news for the poor, letting the oppressed go free, and care for the marginalized that are getting thrown off the cliff lately. We are throwing the good news overboard right along with our fears.

Fear seems to have a stronger hold of us than the gospel does. Chris Bowers says “we are living in different realities, speaking different languages, because we are being driven by fear.”

It was fear. Fear of the outsider. Fear of the other. Fear of a God working in people and in places they didn’t want God to be. Fear of change. Fear of God being for someone and something other than themselves. Fear of something or someone outside of our control. Fear of facing up to the fact that God loves the ones we despise just as much as God loves us.

Karoline says “we bring our dashed hopes, our suspicions, our fears, to the first cliff we can find so that by pushing them off the precipice we might ensure our own security, safety, and salvation. Yet, Jesus pushes through our walls of resistance, our facades of forbearance, and our determined denial toward that which will truly bring us peace, comfort and hope.”

Jesus’s message of inclusion for the outsider is no more popular today than it was then. The acronym DEI has been thrown around a lot lately, but I want to take a moment to say that the real DEI we seem to be forgetting about is the imago DEI, the image of God in all people. How do we treat those who bear God’s image? If we really believe that every person bears God’s image, then every person has worth, value, and deserves dignity and respect.

As Naomi Ruth beautifully shares, “Human diversity is not incidental but intentional. The richness of different cultures, perspectives, and identities mirrors the multifaceted nature of God’s creation. Recognizing Imago Dei means embracing this diversity as a reflection of divine beauty rather than something to be erased or diminished.” She shares “To honor God’s image in others means creating communities where every person is seen, valued, and fully included. This is not just an ethical or social imperative—it is a sacred one.”

How will we as followers of Christ receive the message of the gospel?

Will we listen but not hear?

Hear but not respond?

Be angry and loud, or quiet or indifferent?

Or will we use our voices alongside Christ even at the risk of our own popularity to join in sharing the love of God for all people, to call out what is wrong and to lift up what is holy and good?

Will we offer our hearts? Will we continue to love with courage?

Not because it will win us a popularity contest, but because it is what love requires.

As Rosemary Wahtola Trommer shares in her poem “Because”

So I can’t save the world—

can’t save even myself,

can’t wrap my arms around

every frightened child, can’t

foster peace among nations,

can’t bring love to all who

feel unlovable.

So I practice opening my heart

right here in this room and being gentle

with my insufficiency. I practice

walking down the street heart first.

And if it is insufficient to share love,

I will practice loving anyway.

I want to converse about truth,

about trust. I want to invite compassion

into every interaction.

One willing heart can’t stop a war.

One willing heart can’t feed all the hungry.

And sometimes, daunted by a task too big,

I tell myself what’s the use of trying?

But today, the invitation is clear:

to be ridiculously courageous in love.

To open the heart like a lilac in May,

knowing freeze is possible

and opening anyway.

To take love seriously.

To give love wildly.

To race up to the world

as if I were a puppy,

adoring and unjaded,

stumbling on my own exuberance.

To feel the shock of indifference,

of anger, of cruelty, of fear,

and stay open. To love as if it matters,

as if the world depends on it.”