Being Blessed by the Black Community and by Pastors Kerwin and Madelyn Manning

I have been reflecting on how blessed I feel by my connection with the Black community of Pasadena. Jill has been connected with this community since the 1990s when she moved to Pasadena and apprenticed herself to John Perkins, an amazing African American religious and Civil Rights  leader who founded the Christian Community Development Association (CCD). She moved into the Harambee Center which was started by Perkins in what was the most dangerous and gang-ridden part of Pasadena. The goal of the Harambee Center was to foster youth development, education, arts, leadership formation, and Christian discipleship. Perkins became Jill's mentor.  For decades she has lived in the heart of the Black community, formed deep friendships, became active with the Interdenominational Ministerial Alliance (IMA, the oldest association of Black pastors in the greater Pasadena area, and earned their respect and love. 

When I married Jill 15 years ago, a Black pastor told me: "When you married Jill, you also married the city of Pasadena." 

These words proved prophetic since over the years I have come to love Pasadena,  and especially Northwest Pasadena, the most diverse area of our city. For the last ten years Jill and I have been working with residents of the N. Fair Oaks area, once a thriving Black Main Street, that has suffered decline because of discriminatory policies. This work has culminated in the City's decision to name this area "The Black Legacy District" and to adopt almost all the community's recommendations for revitalization. 

This brings me to an event that Jill and I attended this week: the joyful celebration 25 years of service by two of the most loving and dynamic pastors I know, Kerwin and Madelyn Manning (shown here with us). Their service to God and people and our city is always inspiring.

The event took place at the fancy Noor restaurant, with a couple of hundred people in attendance, all dressed to the nines. Attendees included church members and friends of the Mannings, like Jill and me.

Pastor Kerwin has played a key role in our city, stranding up for righteous causes like police accountability and affordable housing.

He is always a joy to be around and makes you feel loved. He's not only a gifted preacher, he's also very funny. He likes to joke that he loves his wife with all his heart--and his kidney and spleen and intestines, etc. He invited a Black comedian named Broderick Rice to Emcee and he had us rolling in the aisles with laughter, making fun of the quirks of Black pastors.

We also heard music from a praise band called "Salty Chips" and a gifted pianist named Darin Atwater.

People who knew and served under Pastor Manning gave beautiful and moving testimonials. They described him as someone who always encouraged them to find their gifts and do what God was calling them to do. Others spoke of his kindness and love. Pastor Kerwin is a true man of God and follower of Jesus Christ, an embodiment of Good News.

Pastor Kerwin is the Senior Pastor—affectionately known as the “Head Coach”—of Pasadena Church, a vibrant multi‑racial, multi‑ethnic congregation committed to living out God’s purposes in the city and beyond.

He likes to say that he has a congregation of 186,000 people--the population of Altadena and Pasadena. He sees his ministry as not only serving his church community, but also the cities where his church is located. He loves Pasadena/Altadena and demonstrates his love in countless ways, such as helping victims of the Eaton Canyon fire.

A dynamic preacher and gifted worship leader, he has ministered globally in settings ranging from university chapels to international conferences, with ongoing work in South Africa, Japan, Cuba, and other nations.

Born and raised in Toledo, Ohio, Pastor Manning earned his B.A. in Religion from Anderson University and has served the wider Church of God through numerous national leadership roles, including President of the National Inspirational Youth Convention and longtime Chair of the Clergy Community Coalition of Greater Pasadena.

Since 2001, he has led Pasadena Church alongside his wife and ministry partner, Madelyn. They are the proud parents of Madison Denise and lovingly honor the memory of their daughter Morgan Danielle.

Morgan Manning died at age 14 from cardiac arrest caused by CPVT (Catecholaminergic Polymorphic Ventricular Tachycardia) — a rare genetic disorder that disrupts the heart’s electrical system.

After Morgan’s passing in 2017, the Mannings created A Piece of My Heart Foundation in 2018 to support CPVT research and raise awareness. They also took immediate, practical action to protect other children: upon learning that Pasadena Unified School District middle schools lacked Automated External Defibrillators (AEDs), they purchased AEDs — along with training and maintenance — for all eight middle schools. Their decision was intentional and deeply personal, as Morgan died just before graduating 8th grade.

Their work has since inspired the district to expand AED access across all campuses, turning their grief into a life‑saving legacy for other families.

Because of their deep faith and love, the Mannings turned a personal tragedy into a life-saving ministry. I can't help loving them!

In memory of Jean Lester, a faithful and beloved Friend

This week I learned that Jean Lester, a dear friend and a beloved member of Orange Grove Meeting, passed away at the age of 95. A few years ago I described her as the "glue that holds our meeting together."

She was always very supportive of me and the work that Jill and I are doing around social justice. She was a member of our Meeting's Peace and Social Concerns Committee and faithfully attended our Quaker bible study: even though she didn't believe in miracles, she loved the teachings of Jesus and practiced his most important commandment: to love everyone.  For me her most memorable vocal ministry was a quote from Father Greg Boyle: “forgive everyone everything.”

She was a people person and loved to party. She hosted pool parties at her home every year that we always looked forward to. We first learned of her illness in May when she had to leave my birthday party because she wasn't feeling well.

I did an AI search and would like to share what I learned about Jean's faithful life as a Friend. It's remarkable how AI captured so many details about her life and even described her character with surprising accuracy. I was also surprised that what I wrote about her in my blog was included.

Jean Lester has been a deeply valued member of the Quaker community in Pasadena and a longtime member of Orange Grove Friends Meeting. Her life reflects many of the central Quaker testimonies: faithfulness, peace, equality, service, compassionate listening, and a commitment to putting spiritual values into practice.

Jean was born Jean Fuller in Milford, Ohio. She attended Western College for Women in Oxford, Ohio, graduating in 1952. She remained connected with her college community throughout her life. A 2021 Western College alumni publication described Jean as doing well and continuing to enjoy reading, home projects, tennis, and participation in Quaker worship with her husband, Cliff.

In 1957 Jean married Herbert Clifford “Cliff” Lester Jr. They had met through the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) while participating in an AFSC workcamp in Mexico. They eventually made their home in Southern California and raised four children: Susan, Jack, Carole, and Jane. Cliff, who died in 2024, was also a longtime and beloved member of Orange Grove Meeting.

Jean's commitment to Quaker service extended well beyond her local meeting. She served on the board of the American Friends Service Committee. The AFSC's 1992 annual report lists Jean Lester among its national board members, reflecting her significant involvement in one of the Religious Society of Friends' most important organizations devoted to peace, justice, and humanitarian service.

She was also active in Pacific Yearly Meeting. In 2002, Jean was among the Friends serving as representatives to the AFSC for Pacific Yearly Meeting, helping connect Friends in Southern California and elsewhere with AFSC's work for peace and social justice.

At Orange Grove Meeting, Jean took on important responsibilities in the spiritual life of the community. In 2017 she served as Clerk of Worship and Ministry. In that role she helped support the spiritual growth of Friends and encouraged participation in retreats, workshops, and other activities that strengthened the life of the Meeting. She also participated in Quaker workshops on spiritual practice, including a 2016 workshop on vocal ministry.

Jean's commitment to social justice was not simply institutional. She personally accompanied people who were vulnerable and marginalized. In 2019, LAist reported on Orange Grove Friends who visited people held at the Adelanto Detention Facility. Jean was one of the Quaker volunteers making those visits. She and another Friend met with an immigrant detainee who had little opportunity to communicate with the outside world. Their presence offered something simple but profoundly important: human companionship and compassionate listening.

Those qualities—listening, compassion, honesty, and a willingness to help people work through difficult situations—were especially evident in Jean's life at Orange Grove Meeting. In a 2018 tribute to the Meeting, Anthony Manousos described Jean as “the glue holding our meeting together.” He wrote that she was deeply committed to Orange Grove Meeting, sought to resolve conflicts in a loving way, and was an exceptionally compassionate listener while also being honest about her own feelings.

That description captures something essential about Jean's contribution. Her ministry was not necessarily one of public recognition or dramatic gestures. Rather, it was the ministry of presence: listening carefully, helping people find common ground, encouraging the Meeting when it struggled, and reminding Friends of the spiritual center that holds a community together.

Jean's life also illustrates the way Quaker faith can move naturally between worship and service. Her work with Orange Grove Meeting, Pacific Yearly Meeting, and AFSC demonstrates a consistent concern for peace, justice, spiritual community, and the dignity of every person.

For generations of Friends, Jean Lester has represented an important dimension of Quaker life: the quiet strength of a person who listens deeply, cares genuinely, and remains committed to community even when relationships become difficult.

Her legacy at Orange Grove Meeting is therefore not simply a list of offices held or organizations served. It is found in the people she listened to, the conflicts she helped heal, the vulnerable people she accompanied, and the spiritual community she helped sustain.

Jean Lester's life reminds us that one of the most powerful forms of leadership is often quiet: to listen, to care, to remain faithful, and to help a community hold together in love.

A Great Cloud of Witnesses

It has been a long time since I have written reflective essays in my blog. For the past few years I have mainly posted talks I've given, or announcements, but not anything personal. I have been feeling that something is missing from my life as well as from this blog so I started reviewing my early blog entries with the help of my friend Cody Lowry.

I first encountered Cody when I was a youth coordinator for the Quakers in the 1990s. Cody was twelve and an indefatigable talker with ideas about everything, much as I was at his age. He was also so unconventional he didn't thrive in school. Instead he devoted his life to music and spirituality and making people happy. He also struggled with addiction, but now is sober and wiser, thanks be to God. Cody is a true Friend who is more in tune with the Spirit than most Quakers I know, including myself. Quirky,  kind, unconventionally brilliant, and extremely creative, he plays the ukelele and loves to regale people with songs, most of which he has composed  himself. He has a fabulous voice and can sing Mozart arias (Papagena being his favorite role) as well as folk tunes. I find him an utter joy to be around. That's why I hired him to transcribe my blog. I eagerly look forward to weekly encounters with him. 

As I worked in the garden this morning, I was reflecting on the challenges of being 77. My body is no longer as limber as it used to be. I can work in the garden only for an hour or two before my lower back begins to protest. I walk with Jill for half an hour in the evening, and need to seat on a bench halfway through my walk. One of the reasons I love my electric bike is that I don't experience any pain and can ride as much as I like. I feel as if I am in the 20s, not my 70s, when I am coasting uphill at 20 mph on my bike!

Another challenge of aging is the loss of dear friends and loved ones. I have placed pictures of some of them on my desk and feel grateful and wistful as I look up at them and they look down at me. 

Before me is a picture of dear Kathleen of blessed memory. We are standing together surrounded by beautiful young Togvan girls from the Methodist youth group. When I turned 55, Kathleen asked me what I wanted. After pausing to think about it, I  said, "Actually, what I'd like is for the Togvan youth group to come and dance at my birthday party." Knowing me well, Kathleen just smiled and said, "Fine." And she made it happen!

I'd seen these youth dance at a Methodist retreat on Catalina Island and will never forget how beautifully they sang and danced as we lined up on the beach and Pastor Kathleen renewed our baptism by sprinkling us with holy sea water  When these lovely girls danced my my birthday party, I felt as if I were transported to heaven. I later joked that Muslims believe that if you live a righteous life and are faithful to God, beautiful virgins will surround you in Paradise, but if you are married to a Methodist pastor, you can have that experience while you're still alive!

Kathleen and I were married 20 years and hardly a day goes by that I don't think of her with deep gratitude. She was my wife and soulmate and encouraged me to be my best self. She still does. She is one of the "great cloud of witnesses" mentioned in Hebrews 12:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

Another witness is Father Chris Ponnet, smiling radiantly at me in a photo attached to a painting of a statue of John Greenleaf Whittier in front of the Methodist Church in Whittier, where Kathleen and I lived for seven blissful years. Whittier is one of my favorite Quakers since he was both a poet and an activist. This painting is right above my desk and a fit place for Father Chris' uplifting photo.

Father Chris passed away last year. He was a beloved member of ICUJP whom we honored this year with the George Regas Courageous Peacemaker Award. What a honor and a joy it was to have known him! He invited Jill and me to speak about affordable housing at the church he served and was incredibly kind and gracious. He often hosted ICUJP retreats at the St Camillus Center.  And I cherish memories of being at demonstrations with him and getting arrested. He lived his faith with integrity and joy. May God's peace be upon him!

Here's summary of his remarkable life:

Father Chris Ponnet (1957–2025) was a Roman Catholic priest, hospital chaplain, and social justice advocate whose four decades of ministry in Los Angeles blended pastoral care with a deep commitment to human dignity. Ordained in 1983 after studying at St. John’s Seminary, he became known for compassionate service to the sick, the dying, and the marginalized. For nearly 30 years he led the St. Camillus Center for Spiritual Care and directed Spiritual Care at LAC+USC Medical Center, guiding an interfaith chaplaincy team serving one of California’s largest public hospitals. His ministry included frontline care during the HIV/AIDS crisis, steadfast support during COVID‑19, outreach to immigrants and LGBTQ Catholics, and vocal advocacy against the death penalty, racism, and violence. Active in Pax Christi, Death Penalty Focus, and interfaith community rituals, Ponnet was widely respected as a bridge‑builder committed to justice, mercy, and compassionate presence.

Another picture that looks down on me is that of Joseph Prabhu, a dear friend I got to know through the Parliament of the World's Religions. We had very different backgrounds but somehow felt a deep spiritual connection. We worked together to promote interfaith understanding--he took a philosophical/theological approach and I was an activist. We complimented each in profound ways and had rich, deep conversations about politics and philosophy as we went on walks in the Huntington Gardens. 

When Joseph was dying of a brain tumor, he asked me to be accompany him during his final days. I would come to his home and he would tell me anecdotes about his life. He'd hoped to write a memoir about his amazing career but sadly his condition didn't allow him to do so. When he was confined to bed, I would sit by him and sometimes hold his hand and read him psalms. I felt blessed to be with him during his final days. When he asked me to give his eulogy, I felt it was an incredible honor to be singled out among all his distinguished friends and colleagues. Here is what I shared at the Holy Family Catholic Church in South Pasadena on October 24, 2021.  

Born and raised in India and educated in Germany, Britain as well as in the United States, Joseph was an internationally known scholar, professor, and activist. He took his work but not himself seriously. He had a great sense of humor and loved to tease so I’d like to share an anecdote he told me during his final days. Joseph was giving a lecture in Belgium and decided to visit his high school principal, a Jesuit priest named Father Hincq , who was living in Brussels.

 Father Hincq was gracious and showed Joseph his year books and talked about Joseph’s classmates. As Joseph was about to leave, he decided to tease his former teacher by saying, "Do you remember how you once spanked me?" Father Hincq replied with a smile, "Not once, Joseph, twice."

Joseph also like to tell irreverent stories about being Mother Teresa's altar boy. It gets blazingly hot in Calcutta and Joseph fainted during a worship service.  As he regained consciousness, he felt a slap on the face and heard Mother Teresa say, “What are you doing, boy. Wake up!”  

Despite these awkward moments, Joseph remained committed to Catholicism all his life, although for many years he attended All Saints Episcopal Church because of its work around social justice and peace.  Joseph was profoundly influenced by Raimon Panikkar, a theologian who distilled the best of Christian and Hindu religious ideas. Like Panikkar, Joseph remained deeply Catholic while finding inspiration and value in all faiths.

Joseph was a brilliant lecturer who taught at more than seventy universities either as visiting professor or as guest lecturer in Asia, Africa, Australia, Europe and the United States, including at the universities of California, Berkeley and Chicago. For fun, I looked up what students at Cal State LA said about him, and I think he would appreciate this telling comment by one of his students: “I must say I found some of Prof. Prabhu’s lectures slanted. Do not take everything he says as fact. He is crazy liberal, and it shows. Considering that I am conservative, we clashed. I still got an A.”

Another student warned: “Do not take his class of you don’t like to think for yourself... Prof. Prabhu really makes you think about what you think you already know.”

I can’t imagine a better recommendation for someone who taught in the Socratic mode. When Joseph retired, his colleagues gave him a gift he was proud to show off: a mug with the French painter David’s famous depiction of Socrates discussing the immortality of the soul with his students after he had drunk the hemlock. Only instead of Socrates’ face, the mug had Joseph’s!

Joseph’s colleagues honored him in another way, by creating the Joseph Prabhu Memorial Lectures for Peace and Justice. This was appropriate since Joseph was passionately committed to human rights, Gandhian nonviolence, and what John Cobb called “eco-civilization.”   In an article published in Today’s American Catholic in April 2021, Joseph wrote: “The interconnected challenges posed by climate change, economic inequality, racism, sexism, and militarism—to mention just the most pressing problems—demand our intelligent and thoughtful consideration and action.” In this essay, one of his last published works, Joseph lifted up two of his heroes: the German theologian Hans Kung and Pope Francis. https://www.todaysamericancatholic.org/2021/04/dreaming-with-hans-kung/

Besides being an activist, teacher and public intellectual, Joseph was deeply devoted to his family and to his wife Betty. I was very moved to see the tenderness between Joseph and Betty when he was recovering from brain surgery. During this time, he often spoke with pride and affection about his daughter Tara. Joseph raised her as a single father, and it wasn’t easy. But Betty confided to me with great feeling, “Tara was God’s gift to Joseph.” I’m sure Joseph would agree. And I’m sure that you all would agree that Joseph was God’s gift to us and to the world. He has left behind a legacy and an example that will inspire and challenge us  and generations to come.

Dear Joseph, I miss you terribly. I always think of you when I go for walks in the Huntington Garden, the ideal haven for philosophers, poets and peacemakers to "commingle irradiances" (to use a phrase from Milton's Paradise Lost). I know you'd be pleased that I have agreed to be chair of Interfaith Communities United for Justice and Peace, an organization you were involved with and loved. 

Another friend who looks down on me is David Hartsough. He is smiling and holding a bouquet of flowers--a fitting symbol for his life. He was one of the greatest Quaker peace activist of our time, and I had the honor of being his friend. Jill and I would often visit and stay at his home when we went to San Francisco. I will always cherish the great conversations we had about peace and justice work while eating his wife Jan's delicious cookies.

I'll talk more about David in another blog entry. Suffice to say for now, he continues to inspire me. In fact, his name came up this week when I was considering joining a delegation to go to Iran. Ann Wright reminded me that David traveled to Iran in early 2019 as part of a Code Pink peace delegation of 28 Americans. How awesome it would be to walk in the footsteps of my dear friend on a peacemaking journey to Iran next spring!

It's been a joy to spend time reflecting on these beloved friends who have finished their race and are looking down on me, cheering me on, as I approach my finish line. Who are the friends and loved ones who have finished their race and are cheering you on? I hope you can spend time as I have cherishing them in your heart. Let me close with one of my favorite quotes of William Penn: 

“Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still.”

― William Penn, More Fruits of Solitude,

People's Independence Day

 

Our People's Independence Day event is happening on Saturday, July 4th, from 10 am to noon at my Quaker meetinghouse, I'll be the emcee and I'm really excited about our program. We have awesome speakers who will read passages from Frederick Douglas ("What to a slave is July 4?"), Susan B. Anthony, Ida Wells, Dr. King, James Baldwin, etc. Quakers did not celebrate violent revolutionaries, but we do celebrate nonviolent ones!

Acceptance Speech for ICUJP

I want to thank Steve Rohde and the ICUJP Board for electing me chair of this wonderful organization. This is a great honor and a humbling one. I feel as though I am standing on the shoulders of giants for justice—people like James Lawson, George Regas, Lydia Lopez, Grace Dyrness, and Steve Rohde, to name only a few. I have been active with ICUJP almost from its beginning 25 years ago, attending faithfully on Fridays. One of the highpoints of my involvement with ICUJP was joining George Regas and other “good troublemakers” in protesting the war in Iraq, when we were arrested. I will never forget my fellow peace activists singing protest songs as we were placed in a patrol car and taken to jail. I have participated in Close Guantanamo events, wearing an orange jumpsuit and a hood over my head. Another high point. With a nun and a rabbi from ICUJP, I visited and befriended a Muslim man imprisoned on trumped-up charges at a detention facility on Terminal Island and later celebrated his release at an interfaith event. What a joy that was! I have helped organize lobby visits with our senators, and I hope we can continue doing so. Our elected officials need to hear from the faith community! Over the years, I have learned so much from peace and justice advocates from many faith traditions, whose work has inspired and challenged me as a Quaker. I am grateful ICUJP is still here after 25 years, because our message and activism are needed now more than ever.

But I also have to be honest: we are not getting younger. If ICUJP is to continue, we need to attract new—and hopefully younger—members. Meeting by Zoom is not enough. I believe we need more in-person gatherings, such as the one planned for July 4 at the Quaker meetinghouse. We should also explore hybrid meetings so we can gather in person, strengthen friendships, and remain accessible to those who cannot attend physically. We once held justice luncheons at various churches, which brought more people into our organization, and we should consider doing that again. We also need to be clear about our purpose and goals as well as our capacity. What I am suggesting is a large task, and our capacity and resources are limited. Still, I take to heart the words of anthropologist Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” If we have faith in the power of goodness, love, and truth, together we can do more than we imagine. I want to give a shout of appreciation to our Board and also to our amazing communication and program coordinator Rick Banales. We can’t do this work without you, Rick! I look forward to working with all of you to do our part In building a just, equitable and peaceful world.  

Turning Our Treasures into the Channel of Universal Love

A Reflection for ICUJP by Anthony Manousos

 

How we spend our money is an indicator of our moral and spiritual values. That’s why Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, that’s where your heart will be” (Mathew 6:28). 

Abrahamic faiths require us to set aside a portion of our wealth to help the poor. Christians call it a “tithe.” Muslim call is “zakat.” The Jewish term is Tzedakah. I found a great explanation of Tzedakah on Jewish website.

“Tsedakah is a central tenet of Judaism and a pillar upon which the world stands. The word tzedakah actually means “justice” or “righteousness.” There is an important nuance here. In Jewish thought, giving to people in need is not something extra; it’s just the correct, honest thing to do. Our money is not ours. It belongs to G‑d, who has graciously entrusted it to us. It is only right for us to distribute it as He wishes, sharing it with His needy children.

This understanding that giving is a moral imperative is shared by all the Abrahamic faiths.

Early Christians took very seriously the idea that everything belongs to God and we should do all we can to end poverty. When Christians first gathered to worship in Jerusalem, they were filled with the Holy Spirit and the first thing they did was sell their homes and possessions and create a fund to aid the poor and eliminate poverty.

This Christian ideal inspired the 18^th century Quaker abolitionist John Woolman. Seeing that a lot of his fellow Quakers had become wealthy and successful in business, Woolman said, “To turn all our treasures into the channel of Universal Love is the business of our lives.”

This moral imperative to help the poor applies not only to individuals but also to society. How our tax dollars are allocated testify to our nation’s moral values. Dr. King famously said,  

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift, is approaching spiritual death. I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energies in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor.”

During the Vietnam war period, a powerful video was made about how our tax dollars are being misspent on war rather than on human needs:

Check out this video:

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1491223775864163

Today the situation is worse than ever, as you know. Donald Trump began his reign of error by slashing foreign aid, potentially causing millions of deaths. Then he started cutting aid for Americans in need. He is now asking Congress to boost defense spending to $1.5 trillion, a 50% increase. He is also asking Congress to cut non-military spending by 10%. Trump explained: “We’re fighting wars…. It’s not possible for us to take care of day care, Medicaid, Medicare — all these individual things. They can do it on a state basis. You can’t do it on a federal.”

 

This is the opposite of what Jesus stood for. Jesus came to proclaim “good news to the poor.” Trump, the anti-Christ, is proclaiming good news to the plutocrats and militarists.

 

I’d like to close with the famous speech about the arms race that President Eisenhower gave in 1953 that is still relevant today:

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.

This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. The cost of one modern heavy bomber is this: a modern brick school in more than 30 cities.  It is two electric power plants, each serving a town of 60,000 population. It is two fine, fully equipped hospitals. It is some fifty miles of concrete pavement. We pay for a single fighter plane with a half million bushels of wheat. We pay for a single destroyer with new homes that could have housed more than 8,000 people.

…. This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron. These plain and cruel truths define the peril and point the hope that come with this spring of 1953.

 

Eisenhower’s words ring truer today than ever before. As Dr. King said, we need a revolution of values and that revolution starts with us. Tomorrow (May 9th) is my birthday, and I’d like to encourage you to give as generously as you can to your favorite charity or cause: ICUJP, Making Housing and Community Happen, or whatever you feel led to support. Give as much as you can and then urge your elected officials to use your tax dollars for peace not war. Let’s turn our treasures into the channel of Universal Love

The First Palm Sunday Peace Parade: A Sermon Delivered at the First United Methodist Church of Pasadena

 

The First Palm Sunday Peace Parade

A Sermon by Anthony Manousos
Delivered at First United Methodist Church of Pasadena

Palm Sunday, March 29, 2026

(To watch the recorded livestream please click here and go to minute 37)

 

I am so grateful that Pastor Amy invited me to speak about Palm Sunday. This is not only a very special time for the church—the beginning of Holy Week—it’s also a very special holiday for Jill and me since we met at the Palm Sunday Peace Parade here in Pasadena 15 years ago. This parade was organized by our dear friend Bert Newton, a Mennonite pastor. Three weeks after Jill and I met at this parade, I proposed marriage, Jill accepted and the rest (as they say) is history. Our wedding vows affirmed that "the Prince of Peace brought us together for a purpose beyond what we can imagine."

I believe that the Prince of Peace brought all of us here together today for a purpose beyond what we can imagine. I believe that the Prince of Peace calls all of us to be peacemakers! Can I hear an AMEN?

First, let me tell you briefly about the Palm Sunday Peace Parade. It was started in 2004 here in Pasadena to protest the Iraq war and to honor Jesus as the Prince of Peace. The parade recognized Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem as the fulfillment of Zachariah's prophecy that a king would enter the city on a donkey to "bring peace to all nations" (Zachariah 9:9-10).

Between 120-150 people from dozens of different congregations showed up each year for our parade. We marched from the Lutheran Church on Orange Grove Blvd down to the Paseo on Colorado Boulevard. We held palm branches in one hand and peace signs in the other. We practiced what is called sacred resistance.

The day which Christians celebrate as Palm Sunday is the first day of the Jewish festival of Passover. In his book The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus's Final Days in Jerusalem, Marcus Borg points out that two processions entered Jerusalem on that day. One was Jesus’ riding on a donkey with his motley crew of disciples cheering him on, welcomed by a throng of Jews hoping he would save them from Roman oppression. The second was a well-armed procession of Roman legionnaires who marched into Jerusalem under the command of Pontius Pilate to show Roman power and to quell any unrest. One parade was about the power of empire, the other about the power of love.

 

Only during important Jewish festivals, like Passover, did Pilate reluctantly leave his plush governor’s mansion in Caesarea, a lovely coastal city built by the Romans 70 miles from Jerusalem. He always took a contingent of well-armed soldiers to march to Jerusalem for security reasons. During high holy days, Jews were especially hostile to the Roman empire. Most Jews were angry with Roman occupation of their country and riots sometimes occurred. Pilate’s army came to ensure stability and to let the Jews know who was in charge.

The Jewish common people had good reason to be hostile to the Roman Empire. Both the Romans, and their wealthy Jewish collaborators, taxed the common people almost to death. To pay these exorbitant taxes, many poor people had to sell their lands and become day laborers. That’s why Jesus told parables about workers without land. The workers in Judea/Palestine lived as precariously as day laborers, homeless folk, and migrant workers do today.

These landless workers resented their Roman overlords. They were like the insurgents in today’s Middle East. Groups of angry Jews, called the Zealots, formed “cells” and engaged in acts of terrorism against the occupying imperial army.

Pilate did not see himself as an oppressor, but as a bringer of peace. Peace was the official policy of the Roman empire. They called it Pax Romana, the peace of Rome. Whether people wanted it or not, the Pax Romana brought the advantages of civilization—beautiful buildings, roads, trade, and prosperity. Of course, these perks were only for those who were smart or powerful enough to seize advantage of the opportunities Rome provided. Pilate, like most Romans, felt that he represented a superior civilization, just as many Americans do today. Pilate looked down on religious Jews as ignorant and superstitious. Why couldn’t they be just like other nations and accept imperial rule?

Because Pilate was concerned about security and peace, he would not have been pleased with Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem. Pilate had no doubt heard about this upstart prophet/troublemaker from Galilee. His spies would have told him that everywhere Jesus went, crowds of poor people hailed them as a great prophet. Some even called him the Messiah, the King of the Jews. Jesus was a dangerous man who needed to be kept under surveillance. He might even be a terrorist, or someone giving material support to terrorism. Pilate’s parade was to show that resistance was futile.

Now, what about Jesus? What kind of parade was he sponsoring?

We know from the Gospels that Jesus planned his arrival in Jerusalem very carefully. As Marcus Borg notes, what Jesus did had the earmarks of a planned political demonstration.

Take, for instance, the fact that he rode into the city on a donkey. This was political symbolism which every Jew in Jerusalem would immediately have understood.

For a Jewish religious leader to ride a donkey into Jerusalem was the fulfillment a well-known prophesy of Zechariah (9:9-11). Those who shouted “hosannah” to Jesus expected him to act like King David and drive out the Roman Goliaths and restore Jewish independence.

No one knew how Jesus would do this. But Jesus had a reputation as a miracle worker. So many people were willing to believe that somehow he might be able to bring about the social transformation they yearned for.

During the rest of this Passover week, Jesus’ dramatic actions suggested that he was, in fact, about to bring about a powerful transformation of society. He challenged the religious authorities at the Temple. He challenged Roman tax collection policy. When he said, “Give to Caesar what he Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s” this could be interpreted to mean, “Give God everything, and give Caesar nothing.” After all, the book of Job tells us that the whole world and its riches belong to God (Job 41;11) . Jesus’ radical words made him very popular with the common people but very unpopular with the ruling authorities.

By the end of the week, Jesus was arrested, tried, tortured, and sentenced to be executed in a humiliating way. From a worldly point of view, Jesus’ plan failed. He didn’t have sufficient power or clout to be a worldly king of the Jews. From a worldly standpoint, what Jesus did was very foolish.

That’s why the common people and many of his followers turned on him. Clearly this Jesus guy was no miracle worker. He was just another foolish would-be Messiah.

Jesus’ death should have been the end of the story. Many charismatic leaders had come to Jerusalem just as Jesus did, and they were killed by the Roman authorities and then forgotten. But Jesus’ death was different. What made it different is the resurrection. The resurrection transformed his followers and the world. The resurrection showed that love triumphs over hate, that God’s grace trumps imperial violence. As Paul said in his letter to the Romans: “I am convinced that neither life nor death, nor powers nor principalities, nor things present or things to come, nor heights nor depths nor any created thing, can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.”

 

This, to me, is the message of Holy Week. Nothing, not even death, can separate us from God’s love.

 

I’d like to conclude by talking about what Palm Sunday means to us today.

I gained new insight into Palm Sunday in March 1992 when I went to the test site in Nevada to protest nuclear weapons. I went during Holy Week and the theme for that year was taken from the Gospel of Luke. In that Gospel, the religious authorities complain about how the crowds are cheering Jesus when he enters Jerusalem. And Jesus answered them, "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out." (Luke 19:37-40, ESV).

Those of us who went to this protest refused to be silent about the dangers of nuclear weapons. We felt we had to cry out.

By the world’s standards, we were being very foolish. But we were in good company. Many religious people, of every faith tradition, were arrested at this test site, including many Methodists, and our then bishop, Mary Ann Swenson. We haven’t yet persuaded our nation to end its addiction to violence, but as Christians we would be foolish not to try.

The rulers of our country believe that they are wise, and those of us who oppose them are foolish and naive. They spend billions on the military, and mere peanuts on what is called “soft power”—the power of diplomacy and negotiation. Their violent approach has been costly and ineffective, yet they call us foolish and naïve for pointing that war is not the answer.

 

Looking back, we see parallels with what happened to the Roman Empire. As Rome grew increasingly rich and powerful, it grew more and more corrupt. When the empire was teetering on the brink of disaster, the Emperor Constantine embraced Christianity as a lifeline. Sad to say, he missed the whole point of Jesus’ message – the power of compassion. Instead, Constantine put crosses on the banners of the Roman army and sent them out to conquer the world in the name of Christ. This was a sick perversion of Jesus’ message. Today, many people still believe that you can fight wars for Christ. What’s worse, many believe that the US is engaged in a holy war to bring Christ to the Middle East. That’s the view of our current secretary of war, a self-avowed Christian nationalist who has written a book called The American Crusade and prays for violence against those who “deserve no mercy,” namely, Muslims.  

What is Jesus’ real message? It’s so simple that every child knows it and can recite it. Love God. Love your enemy. Treat others the way you’d like to be treated.

“Loving your enemy” means talking with them, listening to them, trying to figure out why they are angry with you, and trying to find ways to make peace. As a nation, loving your enemy does not mean letting them walk all over you. It means diplomacy. It means giving food to the poor instead of selling arms that are used to kill the poor. It means supporting international law, democratic values, and treating every nation with respect.

Imagine how things would improve if we applied these Christian principles to our foreign policy!

Foolish as it may seem to those who are fans of Caesar and the empire, Jesus’ wisdom of compassion can actually work in the real world. We know from the example of Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. These men were able to transform India and the US without resorting to violence.

But to make compassion work, you need to be willing to take risks, to put your life on the line, if necessary, for what you believe. Sixty years ago Martin Luther King stood in the pulpit at Riverside Church in New York City and announced that he opposed the Vietnam War. Among other things, King called for a revolution of values. He said, and I quote:

 

A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, "This way of settling differences is not just."…. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.

 

In the face of this spiritual death and destruction, King challenged the religious community to speak out. He said, “Silence is betrayal. We can’t be silent any longer about the evils of war and economic exploitation.”

These prophetic words aroused the anger of many in power who had supported King’s Civil Rights work. A year after King gave this message at Riverside Church, on April 4, 1968, he was shot down in a motel in Memphis, TN. United Methodist pastor Rev Jim Lawson and others saw King’s death not only as a political assassination, but also as a kind of crucifixion.

Like King, Jesus also did not mince words when he went to Jerusalem and confronted the worldly powers. When he went to the Temple and overturned the tables of the money changers, he said: “My house was supposed to be house of prayer for the nations. You’ve turned it into a den of thieves.”

These prophetic words infuriated the religious authorities who profited from their collaboration with the Romans. That’s why they went to Pontius Pilate and told him that this troublemaker had to be stopped.

The Romans killed Jesus’ body, but they could not kill his spirit. His unquenchable spirit of love and truth lives today among those of us who boldly say, “Religious communities must not bless war and violence.” He lives in those of us who say, “Let’s give peace a chance.”

Peace is possible, but we need to work to make it happen. Like Martin Luther King and Gandhi, Jesus knew that peacemaking comes with a price, and he was willing to pay that price to show us the power of love.

The question facing all of us today is: Whose parade will you join, Caesar’s or Christ’s?

I hope that as we lift up our palm branches today and celebrate the Prince of Peace, we will say “No” to the power of empire and “Yes” to the power of God. [Raise your palm and say: Hosanah!]