Preached on the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (Year A), February 1, 2026, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Seattle, Washington.
Micah 6:1-8
Psalm 15
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
Matthew 5:1-12
The view of the Sea of Galilee from the Church of the Beatitudes.
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and [he] taught them.
When United States District Judge Fred Biery, in the United States District Court for the Western District of Texas, San Antonio Division, saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down at his bench he heard the case of Adrian Conejo Arias and L.C.R., a Minor, versus Noem, Bondi, Lyons, Margolin, and Doe. Then Judge Biery’s disciples came to him, and he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
“Before the Court is the petition of asylum seeker Adrian Conejo Arias and his five-year-old son for protection of the Great Writ of habeas corpus. They seek nothing more than some modicum of due process and the rule of law. The government has responded.
“The case has its genesis in the ill-conceived and incompetently implemented government pursuit of daily deportation quotas, apparently even if it requires traumatizing children. This Court and others regularly send undocumented people to prison and order them deported, but do so by proper legal procedures.”
Judge Biery continued (and yes, I’m reading his ruling in its entirety):
“Apparent also is the government's ignorance of an American historical document called the Declaration of Independence. Thirty-three-year-old Thomas Jefferson enumerated grievances against a would-be authoritarian king over our nascent nation. Among [other grievances] were: ‘[The King] has sent hither Swarms of Officers to harass our People.’ ‘He has excited domestic Insurrection among us.’ [He has quartered] large Bodies of Armed Troops among us.’ ‘He has kept among us, in Times of Peace, Standing Armies without the consent of our Legislatures.’
“‘We the people’ are hearing echoes of that history.”
But the judge had more to say from the mountain of his federal bench:
“And then there is that pesky inconvenience called the Fourth Amendment: ‘The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and persons or things to be seized.’
“Civics lesson to the government: Administrative warrants issued by the executive branch to itself do not pass probable-cause muster. That is called the fox guarding the henhouse. The Constitution requires an independent judicial officer.
“Accordingly, the Court finds that the Constitution of these United States trumps this administration's detention of petitioner Adrian Conejo Arias and his minor son, L.C.R. The Great Writ [of habeas corpus] and release from detention are GRANTED pursuant to the attached Judgment.”
But the good judge had even more to say in his Sermon on the Bench:
“Observing human behavior confirms that for some among us, the perfidious lust for unbridled power and the imposition of cruelty in its quest know no bounds and are bereft of human decency. And the rule of law be damned.
“Ultimately, Petitioners may, because of the arcane United States immigration system, return to their home country, involuntarily or by self-deportation. But that result should occur through a more orderly and humane policy than currently in place.”
And finally, Judge Biery shared this quotation: “Philadelphia, September 17, 1787: ‘Well, Dr. Franklin, what do we have?’ [Benjamin Franklin replied,] ‘A republic, if you can keep it.’
“With a judicial finger in the constitutional dike, It is so ORDERED. SIGNED this 31st day of January, 2026.” (End quote.)
But then! Judge Biery did one more thing. He attached a photo of the detained child to his order, and underneath the photo he included two scripture references: Matthew 19:14 and John 11:35. Matthew 19:14 is this: “Jesus said, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.’” And John 11:35 is this: “Jesus began to weep.”
Judges never attach such things to their opinions and orders. But Judge Biery did so, because this is where we are, as a nation. It’s this bad.
And this is where we Christians are. This is where we live, where we work, where we struggle, and where with God’s help we overcome. Our faith is not found poolside, with cocktails and sunscreen, all the world being at peace and us taking our leisure. (Though I hasten to say that rest is vital, and vacations are healing!) Our faith is found in the fray, alongside public servants like Judge Biery.
We praise Jesus of Nazareth and call him our Lord and Savior. So we should take heed: When he finds himself surrounded by disciples and crowds, this Jesus of Nazareth goes up the mountain and proceeds to place the victims of injustice and oppression in the center of his program of action, the center of his agenda of revolution, the center of his mission of mercy in an occupied land.
We have crowds surrounding us, too. We see them thronging the streets of Minneapolis. We see them in all the major cities, marching past closed shops and shuttered businesses, closed because they are striking in solidarity. These crowds can fill us with hope, but these crowds must also — if our faith is true, and if we understand the radical thing we do every time we gather at this Table — these crowds must drive us up mountains, where we can be heard, where our voices join Judge Biery and so many others, where we clearly and without wavering place L.C.R., a minor — a five-year-old child — at the center of our faith, the center of our mission, our top priority.
Our government abducted that child and used him as bait to lure his family out for deportation. But that’s where we come in, friends. L.C.R. is one of many, many people who have us as allies and advocates. If we step up, that is.
But maybe you are still discouraged. You might admire Judge Biery for his eloquence and courage. I’d be delighted to break bread with him here. But will he really get us anywhere, finally? And as for Jesus of Nazareth, maybe you’ve heard it, you’ve seen it, you got the memo, and you’re unimpressed. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” he intones atop the mountain, and then he says they will receive the kingdom of heaven, and be comforted, and inherit the earth, and be filled.
When, Jesus? When? Maybe these Beatitudes hit you as absurd platitudes offered in vain for the people harassed by our government.
But Jesus isn’t done. Then he talks to us. “Blessed are the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers,” he says. Then he gets direct: “Blessed are you when people revile you and curse you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven.”
In heaven? Where’s that, Jesus?
Maybe you’re still unimpressed! Saving the reverence of the good judge in Texas who did his job with courage and righteousness, and giving Jesus of Nazareth his propers for doing a standup job as a prophet and savior in his time, maybe you’re still down in the dumps about our terrible time. I won’t bug you about that, too much. I get it.
And people younger than me get it even more viscerally. My friend Io is, like me, a member of Generation X, and Io’s Gen-Z kids are really discouraged, and in a way we Xers often aren’t, not because we are deluded or apathetic, but because we have a longer view, stretching back to a time not so long ago when the world seemed right-side-up, even if there were still countless injustices everywhere. Younger adults and youth don’t have these memories, and so many of them are grimly hopeless.
But they also are found surging through cities in protest. They also are rising up in anger and determination to bless the poor in spirit and fill those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. And we can join them.
It’s a simple program, really. Are you discouraged, and even despairing? Then know this: the entire New Testament was written in a time like this, and it is filled with stories of advocates, workers, teachers, and apostles who banded together and transformed their corner of the troubled world, and did so in a way that caught fire around the Mediterranean, and launched a movement that now includes us. This is what God’s power can do in the world.
But you can go even further back and listen to the words of a minor prophet. Micah teaches us a simple program, so simple we can commit it to memory and chant it when we feel frail, when we forget how to do this, when we are wishing we had half the gumption of Judge Biery. Here’s Micah’s formula:
Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God. Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God.
So… you don’t feel like you’re a prophet or a peacemaker, let alone a federal judge with justice on your side? You can still “do justice.” You can do it in your relationships, in your vocation, in your writings, in the voting booth, in the way you spend your time as a volunteer or a faith leader or a resident in your neighborhood.
So… you don’t feel all that merciful, and definitely don’t feel pure of heart? You can still “love kindness.” You can notice and regulate your anger, and your sadness too, and channel your upsetting feelings into daily actions of kindness and honesty, with everyone you know, everyone whose lives you touch.
As for “walking humbly with God,” that task is made almost easy when we do it together. We pray here together. We welcome the stranger here together. We serve neighbors in need here together, and protest here together, and walk lightly on the earth here together, and study and work and live and love here together. And above all we break bread here together. In all these actions, we build each other up, always by God’s power and with God’s help, and we walk humbly with God — together.
So to borrow and modify that classic Ben Franklin quotation, what do we have, here at this refuge for sinners, here at this school for the faithful, here at this haven for the weary? What do we have?
We have the Kingdom of God, if we can keep it.