3rd Sunday after Epiphany | January 25th, 2026 | The Rev. Nat Johnson

Over the last week, I have been seeing post after post on social media and article after article in news apps quoting people on the ground who confess their shock at seeing people being asked for “papers” to prove their citizenship.

Each confession goes something like, “I never thought I would see the day when someone would be asked to show their papers - not here, not in this country.”

Over and over again, people keep referencing Nazi Germany as the point of comparison - that what is happening now in places like Minnesota and Maine are on parallel with the actions and intentions of the Gestapo in the 1930s and 40s. How quick we are to forget the history of our own nation, the stories of the marginalized and oppressed right here within our borders: stories from indigenous communities whose children were ripped away from their families and communities and sent to boarder schools where they were violently forced to assimilate. Stories from black folk who bear the collective trauma of enslavement, Jim Crow laws, segregation, disproportionate police brutality and incarceration.

Violent arrest, incarceration, and deportation of immigrants is also not new.

I suspect that part of the reason for comparing what is happening now to what was happening in Germany is that many of us have had the privilege of ignorance, the privilege of remaining blissfully unaware of the powerful overreach and abuse of power that so many of our siblings of color have had to endure for so long.

I also suspect that much of the indignation, particularly in white people, that we are seeing across news and social media outlets is that the target radius has been widened.

In the last couple of weeks, the victims of the fatal encounters with ICE were white - Renee Good on January 7th and Alex Pettri yesterday.

Recognizing that the things we’re witnessing now are not new to our streets in no way minimizes the tragedy of what is happening. The threat of danger is very real, and we cannot go on imagining that we will somehow be immune to its approach in our own streets.

On Wednesday evening, I received a text message from a friend and colleague in Minnesota who shared that “people are being disappeared, that due process is being abandoned in favor of brutal cruelty … There is a feeling that Minnesota is being targeted as a test case for the practice of control and fear.”

And this, I think, is perhaps the most important thing we can remember in this moment, that fear is the primary mechanism being used to control what is happening, what story is being told, what behaviors are being manipulated, what result is being manufactured.

But as those on the ground in Minnesota are discovering, fear loses its power in the face of love and compassion.

On Friday, Bishop Craig Loya of the Episcopal Church in Minnesota posted a reflection on today’s gospel reading. I want to share it in full with you this morning:

“In the gospel lesson …, Jesus starts to assemble his team, calling his first four disciples. They were all going about business as usual, mending their nets, doing their work, living their lives. When they hear Jesus’ strange invitation, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people,’ we are told that immediately they left everything behind and followed Jesus.

There is palpable urgency with which they respond to Jesus’ invitation. But, it seems to me, it is not the urgency of anxiety, of panic, of fear. It’s the urgency of clarity. This invitation seems to have what their souls are longing for, and there is no hesitation about making this way the center of their lives.

This is an urgent moment in the life of our nation, beloved. As we continue to watch scenes of unbearable and unimaginable cruelty carried out in reckless fashion across Minnesota, without reference to the clear rule of law that holds the nation together, it is clear that something fundamental has broken, and a line has been crossed that few of us imagined we’d see in our lifetimes.

The need for us to act is urgent. And there are many ways we can act faithfully in this moment. We can pray, holding our nation and those most vulnerable perpetually before God’s throne of mercy .We can join the network of people at Casa Maria who are delivering food to people who cannot leave their homes. We can show up, publicly and peacefully protesting the ongoing horrors we are seeing … We can donate to the Migration Support Fund, as the need for financial support continues to soar in this moment.

But as followers of Jesus, we do not act with the urgency of anxiety, we act with the urgency of clarity. Jesus’ call is clear: follow me. Do as I do, go where I go, be with me.

And Jesus always goes where the pain is, Jesus always goes to the margins, the vulnerable, to those afraid, to the broken places. That’s where we are called to go, in good times and in hard times.

Though there are many fearful things around us, we need not be afraid, because we know that love is more powerful than hatred, compassion is greater than cruelty, and God continues to build God’s kingdom of perfect justice brick by brick, act of love by act of love. So, like those ancient disciples, we go urgently, but soberly, clearly, and deeply grounded in the hope we have that perfect love casts out fear, and even death itself will not quench love’s mighty power.”

Friends, this is our invitation today - Jesus is inviting us to follow, to step out in faith and in love. Now is the time to start thinking about and planning how we will respond when resistance is needed here.

But now is also the time to begin to engage in the work of resistance, to stand in solidarity with those who are on the front lines. Now is the time for fervent prayer, for engaging our political leaders, for showing up to protest or for supporting those who do protest even when we can’t.

We must also seek out the narratives of those on the front line so that we dismantle the power of fear. We must seek out stories of resistance, of love and compassion in action.

Yesterday, Bishop Loya posted another statement on social media. After talking about the mechanism of fear produced by “the most cynical propaganda machines in human history,” he shared that

“… there is also something much more powerful, and not as widely reported, happening. We are mobilizing for revolutionary love. Vast networks of care, compassion, and solidarity, organized by churches to deliver food and supplies to those who cannot leave their homes.

People are documenting the violence being used against us in a way that puts their own lives at risk.

People are standing guard outside of schools and daycares, and at bus stops to protect our children from real risks of harm. Others are taking turns watching each others’ kids stuck in online learning because some schools aren’t safe. Health care workers are bravely caring for people in hospitals that are no longer safe, and risking being targets of arrest and detention for protecting their patients.

A rich web of underground care and hidden love is taking deep root, and it’s amazing to thing what fruit that might bear when this occupation ends …

The greatest danger we face right now is not the very real threat to our safety. It’s not even the erosion of democracy.

The greatest threat we face as a nation is the assault being waged on hope. We must not give in to despair. We must not be consumed by the very justified anger we feel.

The only way hatred can be effectively resisted is doubling down on love. The only way darkness can be defeated is light. The only way forces of death can be overcome is by embracing, every moment of every day, God’s unstoppable life.”

We prayed earlier that God would give us the grace to answer the call of Christ and proclaim to all people the good news of his salvation. This is how we answer that call. Let us embrace, fearlessly and boldly, the invitation to follow, to live in the power of love, and to stand in solidarity with the most vulnerable.