A Weaving of Testimony and Song
Isaiah 65:17-25
Lyndale UCC- November 16, 2025
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel with Reader’s Theater help from
Ron Rooney, Jeanine Dorfman, Lynx Homan-Dorfman, Castor Welsh, Jae Louwagie,
and Vicki Joan Keck
Introduction
We began our worship service with a passage from Isaiah. Our scripture comes from the end of the prophet’s writing. It is the part of the text that is all about hope and healing and restoration. But it is a future vision and promise. It’s written to a people who are currently in the throes of exile. The original hearers of the text are in Babylon. The Babylonians had destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple, the ritual and symbolic center of Jewish life, and had stolen the people away from their homes. The grief and pain were immense for the people of Judah. If you know the mournful song that says, “by the waters, the waters of Babylon we laid down and wept, and wept for thee Zion. We remember, we remember, we remember thee, Zion.” It hauntingly captures the ache of grief and longing.
It is into this deep grief that individuals and the community are feeling in their bones, that the prophet Isaiah plants a vision: For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating, for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy and its people as a delight… They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain…
For the exiles in Babylon, the invitation was to cling to their relationship with God who is liberator and healer. Especially amidst their grief, they are invited to hold fast to God’s desire for real and palpable joy for them.
This morning, amidst our own deeply chaotic, grief-filled, and terrifying time, we are going to spend some time reflecting on different ways that we might cling to God, that we might hold fast to God’s vision of joy, healing, and justice.
Particularly for the first part, Facing the Ache and Calling on Our Faith, I’ve been thinking about a letter I got this week from the mother of the man who hit us and died. The legal process ended about a month ago, so I reached out to people who knew her who were connected to us and asked that they let his parents know that we would be interested in connecting with them. In the letter we received, Brian’s mother started by sharing her prayers and condolences for the pain and suffering our family has gone through. She shared that she and her husband were out for their nightly walk when they heard the sirens but didn’t know what it was until the police came to their door at 9 pm that night. And she shared that her life was shattered in that moment and that the only way she’s gotten through it is by clinging to her faith. We wrote back to her to share our deepest condolences and to tell her how much we pray for their family and how our faith and being surrounded by prayer is how we’ve been able to make it through and heal.
Precious Lord (History of Hymns: “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” By C. Michael Hawn https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/history-of-hymns-precious-lord-take-my-hand )
Reader 1: Even though he had hundreds of jazz and blues songs to his credit, Thomas Dorsey turned to gospel music, one of the first to use that term, following the tragic death of Nettie and their infant son in 1932. Dorsey provides an account of the circumstances surrounding the composition of this famous song:
Reader 2: “Back in 1932, I was 32 years old and a fairly new husband. My wife, Nettie and I were living in a little apartment on Chicago’s Southside. One hot August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis, where I was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. I didn’t want to go. Nettie was in the last month of pregnancy with our first child. But a lot of people were expecting me in St. Louis. . . .
Reader 3: “. . . In the steaming St. Louis heat, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger boy ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: YOUR WIFE JUST DIED. . . .
“When I got back, I learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. I swung between grief and joy. Yet that night, the baby died. I buried Nettie and our little boy together, in the same casket. Then I fell apart. For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn’t want to serve Him any more or write gospel songs. I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well. . .
Reader 4: “But still I was lost in grief. Everyone was kind to me, especially a friend, Professor Frye, who seemed to know what I needed. On the following Saturday evening he took me up to Malone’s Poro College, a neighborhood music school. It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows. I sat down at the piano, and my hands began to browse over the keys.”
Reader 5: Dorsey remembered an old pentatonic (five-note) melody from his Sunday School days, MAITLAND … by George Allen, paired with the text “Must Jesus Bear the Cross Alone.” Arranging this tune and adding his own words, “Precious Lord” became the most famous of his many gospel songs. He gave the song to Frye who introduced it to the choir at Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church the next Sunday, an event that, Dorsey later remarked, “tore up the church.” Martin Luther King, Sr. was the pastor of Ebenezer at this time.
Reader 6: The three stanzas capture the grief not only of Dorsey, but also of any who have suffered significant loss. The… opening line of stanza one, “Precious Lord, take my hand. . . .,” indicates a suffering soul that is reaching out. The singer acknowledges that they are at the end of their rope: “I’m tired, I’m weak, I’m worn.” Perhaps Dorsey was referring to Matthew 8:23-27, the narrative where Christ stills the storm, when he penned, “Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light.”
Reader 1: Stanza two draws upon the imagery of a journey, one in which the “way grows drear.” The traveler cries out, and once again reaches for the hand of Christ. The third stanza begins, “When the darkness appears,” reminiscent of Psalm 23:4: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . ..” By the time we reach the third stanza, the terrain has changed from a stormy sea (stanza one), a long road (stanza two), to a river of hope (stanza three). Upon singing, “at the river I stand,” the singer reaches at last the final destination, the symbolic Jordan River. Each stanza concludes effectively with the refrain, “Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home,” perhaps an image of the Good Shepherd in the Gospel of John.
Reader 2: “Precious Lord” has been recorded by many famous singers including Elvis Presley, Mahalia Jackson, Roy Rogers, and Tennessee Ernie Ford. Martin Luther King Jr. drew inspiration from this, his favorite song. It was sung at the rally in Memphis the night before the civil-rights leader’s assassination. President Lyndon B. Johnson requested that “Precious Lord” be sung at his funeral.
Reader 3: What griefs, what aches, are you holding today? How might God take your hand?
Sing Precious Lord
Stonewall
Reader 4: They were queer, every one of them… They were drag queens and bull dykes. They were Black and white, Latinx and Asian American and they were mostly working class and poor young people. Their names were Sylvia Rivera, Marsha P. Johnson, Miss Major, and STAR the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries.
Reader 5: They had been beaten up, scorned by their families as repulsive, committed to mental hospitals. Their lives were filled with fear, intimidation and shame.
Reader 6: But during the week of June 27- July 3rd, 1969, something happened…They recognized, they perceived, something about themselves and one another. They saw the holy in their midst, or at least the evidence of holiness which is dignity and, so awakened, they claimed a love that is resistance.
Reader 1: At first it was according to the script. The police entered the bar; the mafia bosses took their things and left; and the queers were herded out the door.
Reader 2: But as they were being pushed toward the usual, normal humiliation, something shifted. Some energy changed. And someone stopped. Many say it was Marsha P. Johnson, a twenty-five year old trans* woman, who was overcome by the Spirit and said, no, not this time. And before they knew it, coins were being thrown– a symbol of the system of extortion.
Reader 3: And soon the paddy wagon had been emptied and the police pushed back into the bar.
Reader 4: And like the collective expression of love in public, word went around Christopher Street and Greenwich Village and the crowds gathered. And over the course of the next five nights, they swelled and swelled.
Reader 5: In response, the tactical police force was called in and, with their billy clubs and riot gear, they pushed into the crowd.
Reader 6: But the crowd would not be quashed. Instead, when the tactical police force came at them, they ran ahead, turned the block and re-formed behind the police.
Reader 1: When the police whirled around to reverse direction at one point, they found themselves face-to-face with their worst nightmare: a chorus line of mocking queens, their arms clasped around each other, kicking their heels in the air Rockettes-style and singing at the tops of their sardonic voices:
Reader 2: ‘We are the Stonewall girls
We wear our hair in curls
We wear no underwear
We show our pubic hair…
We wear our dungarees
Above our nelly knees!’
Reader 3: It was a deliciously witty, creative counterpoint to the tactical police force’s brute force. It was a claiming of embodied, erotic love. It was a yes to their love for themselves, for one another. They chose music and laughter, resistance and creativity, life and love and dignity in who and whose they were.
Reader 4: And many of us, LGBTQ and allies who support and affirm LGBTQ people as beloved children of God owe our lives to those rioters.
Reader 5: When have you claimed your own dignity in community with others?
Reader 6: Our hymn was written by Holly Near as she rushed to participate in the candlelight vigil the night Harvey Milk was assassinated. It has become an anthem of non-violent resistance and claiming of humanity.
Hymn: Singing for Our Lives
We are a gentle, angry people
And we are singing, singing for our lives (x2)
We are a justice-seeking people
And we are singing, singing for our lives (x2)
We are young and old together
And we are singing, singing for our lives (x2)
We are a land of many colors
And we are singing, singing for our lives (x2)
We are queer and cis together
And we are singing, singing for our lives (x2)
We are a gentle, loving people
And we are singing, singing for our lives (x2)
In Honor of Jazzercise at an ICE Facility
CanbyFirst.com Neon-Clad Protesters Bring 80s Jazzercise Energy to Portland ICE Facility by
Tyler Francke November 12, 2025
Reader 1: In true Portland fashion, demonstrators recently turned an… ICE facility protest into a colorful 1980s-themed jazzercise session. Dressed in neon workout gear, leg warmers, and headbands, the protesters mixed retro fun with a strong political message — demanding an end to what they called ICE’s “cruelty” toward immigrant communities.
Reader 2: The event, blending nostalgia and activism, drew national attention for its creativity and upbeat energy. Protesters moved to the beat of 80s hits, including Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” transforming the street corner outside the facility into a dance floor of resistance. Rainbow flags waved high alongside hand-painted signs that read, “Stop ICE Cruelty” and “Exercise Your Rights.”
Reader 3: Unlike more confrontational demonstrations, this “athletic sit-in” stood out for its humor and peacefulness. Passersby joined the crowd, following the jazzercise instructor’s energetic lead. The lighthearted choreography sent a powerful message — opposition through joy…
Reader 4: On social media, the protest quickly went viral. One Reddit user called it “The Richard Simmons Protest Your Pants Off Party,” … For many observers, the protest encapsulated Portland’s signature spirit: passionate, unconventional, and playfully defiant.
Reader 5: Many commenters praised the ingenuity behind the protest, seeing it as a fresh take on peaceful activism. “I love all the creativity Portland brings to our protests! Keeping Portland weird again!” one person wrote.
Reader 6: Another user pointed out the strategy behind the silliness: “It’s not just creative — it’s smart. If you appear harmless, it’s harder for officials or the media to misrepresent your protest as a riot. Back in the 60s, activists wore their Sunday best for the same reason.”
Reader 1: The neon-clad dancers embodied that philosophy perfectly. By framing the demonstration around joy and humor, they drew attention to serious issues without giving ammunition to critics.
Reader 2: …Even as national debates over immigration enforcement remain divisive, Portland’s creative activism reminds the country that …
Reader 3: Sometimes, resistance can come in the form of leg kicks and synchronized steps. By the time the last song faded, the crowd outside the ICE facility had become a symbol of what peaceful protest can look like —
Reader 4: joyful, organized, and impossible to ignore.
Reader 5: Their 80s-themed jazzercise rally may have looked whimsical, but its message carried weight: compassion, unity, and the right to dissent peacefully.
Reader 6: As one participant said while catching their breath, “We’re sweating for justice — and it feels great.”
Closing
We are still in that part of the year where we are focused on our ancestors: all saints and all souls. It’s also a time of political repression and suffering when remembering those who’ve gone before us can inspire and bring us hope. As you consider facing the ache and calling on your faith, and claiming your humanity amidst cruelty, and hearkening to that of God in all people, how is hope coming to you these days?
I’m going to give you a minute or two of silence to reflect on this.
May it be so. Amen.
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