Sermon: Prayers for Freedom
Scripture: 1 Samuel 3:1–10
I recently came across a post on social media: “Thank you for the ‘first week free’ trial of 2026. I’d like to unsubscribe now, please.”
It was funny, but I couldn’t laugh at it. Instead, I found myself reflecting on it from a faith perspective (an occupational hazard!)
It’s an appealing thought, isn’t it? To watch the world like it’s a streaming service. To cancel when events start unfolding in ways we never wished for. To go back to day one and start again, with an alternative version of the world, the universe, one that, even just a little, shines a brighter and more hopeful New Year’s light.
But instead, it feels as though we have no choice but to keep watching. Watching a story filled with countless evils. A world where violent crackdowns, domination, and international political intimidation are pushing us beyond the laws and rules that once held some sense of order. It feels as if we are crossing into a reality where power moves freely beyond international law. And at the centre of it all is the saturation of our screens with strongman villains, figures we cannot simply turn away from, or pretend not to see.
At first, that one villain presented himself in the language of nationalism and “country-first” rhetoric, claiming to protect national interests, beginning with tariffs. But now, he has moved beyond even the minimum laws and rules agreed upon by the international community.
In truth, this is not new. From the very beginning, and for a very long time, American domination has existed as a system, one that has continually produced conflict and division in the world. What we are witnessing today is the phantom of imperialism and colonialism, visible, embodied. Something operating openly in our society. Something permitted. Something that has reappeared, asserting itself through military force and policing state power.
The United States has long claimed domestic democracy and justice as its own shining beacon, like the Statue of Liberty itself. Yet, even under presidents and political leaders who claim to pursue justice, deep divisions have been inflicted on other nations, especially in the name of Pax Americana. Imperialism has been framed as international order, peace, and the preservation of democracy, even as other countries were torn apart in America’s name.
From where I stand, this logic has now turned inward. A nation that has never fully reckoned with slavery or the genocide of Indigenous peoples is directing repression toward racialized communities within its own borders, using ICE as the president’s militia, while still acting as if it alone holds the moral power to call out other authoritarian regimes in the world.
What is happening now is neither new nor sudden. The groaning stretches across Gaza, Ukraine, Greenland, Venezuela, and Iran. And especially today, we remember Iran, where resistance to the regime is being driven by a deep economic crisis, a crisis that is tightly entangled with economic sanctions imposed by the West, led by the United States, particularly since the first Trump administration. We witnessed the 2020 Iranian resistance that cried out, “Women, Life, Freedom.” And today, we are hearing cries for freedom in Iran once again, cries that come at the cost of death.
So, our question today is this: What will be the Canadian response? What will be a faithful response?
Because, whether in the West or in Asia, as long as nations pursue self-centred and imperial gain, we are all connected within that system. Silence and indifference, simply because the bad things are happening outside of our borders, do not keep us protected. They make us complicit in this chaos.
And this is why, in light of today’s scripture, “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread,” we cannot say, “Sorry – please cancel my subscription to 2026.” We cannot simply pick up a remote control to dim the screen for a moment. We cannot cancel the world itself.
Today, I would like to reflect together with you on freedom. What is freedom? What is a free society?
At a time when the world order is rapidly changing, we may feel safe enough here to shut our eyes and refuse to see what’s going on. We may be able to maintain our lives and livelihoods. We may be able to avoid being deeply disrupted, and to wait for this time of chaos to pass while holding on to a sense of independence and sanity. And yet, this cannot be the true meaning of freedom.
Let us imagine a society. A society in which no one is indebted to anyone else is also a society in which no one’s existence is needed by anyone else. A society where all members are completely independent of others also means no one ever has to care for anyone else. It might sound so freeing – unworried, disengaged, neither giving nor receiving help, neither giving nor receiving support, nobody relying on anyone else. To me, it sounds like hell.
In this book, Why Do We Feel Joy When We Give Gifts? the author makes this observation. Society has shifted away from giving and receiving help. It has moved toward a system in which everything must be purchased at one’s own expense. In order to live independently, in a way that claims to exercise freedom, this society requires us to constantly buy something. And in order to obtain the freedom of not burdening anyone else, we must keep purchasing commodities in order to sustain our freedom.
Freedom, then, becomes something that can be sustained capitalistically. It is maintained by capital. It is maintained by constant work and constant consumption. Capitalism positions us, in relation to freedom, as consumers. We don’t depend on each other; we depend on our bank balance and credit limit.
Another book that had a strong impact on me this new year is Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Dederer. The book begins with a list of what she calls “monster” artists. Roman Polanski, who committed sexual violence against a fourteen-year-old girl. Pablo Picasso, known for his abusive and misogynistic treatment of women. Ernest Hemingway, marked by violence and emotional abuse in intimate relationships. These are artists whose extraordinarily beautiful artistry and genius many of us have loved and admired as fans.
And yet, of course not in every case, but in many cases, the destructive and unethical sides of such artists or even spiritual figures are revealed. Abuse. Criminal acts. As fans, we loved their art, their work, their genius, their ideals. But when their past or present actions come to light, when we see the abuse of others, sexual exploitation, ethical and moral corruption, we experience a rupture. We reach a point where we can no longer love them and their work in the same way.
What stayed with me most was this. Rather than simply placing the label “monster” on these people we once idealized, the author asks us to consider the structures that made the monster possible in the first place. There are structures that cannot be addressed by canceling an individual alone. The culture that made them feel entitled to fulfill their appetites. The institutions that ignored their violations because of their status. We are called to ask questions that go beyond proving our morality through consumption or cancellation.
If I am not just a consumer, then what am I? Capitalism is accustomed to positioning our role as consumer only.
What we witness again and again, through the stories of monster artists and leaders, is the tight entanglement between genius and masculinity. The abuse and crimes committed by so-called geniuses, male geniuses and strongmen alike, are often excused for the same few reasons: Because he is a genius. Because he is a man. Because it was that era. Power is granted beyond limits, and violence and abuse are tolerated and forgiven.
The world in which today’s biblical text unfolds, the world in which the conversation between Eli and Samuel takes place, is a world ruled by the monsters of that time. It is a world when Eli’s sons ruled. These men carried the privileges of a priestly father and were themselves priests, holding the greatest degree of freedom. And they abused power to the full extent of the authority and capacity available to them.
Hophni and Phinehas, the sons of Eli, stole from those who came to the sanctuary in order to accumulate personal gain. They sexually exploited women. They even used violence. When Scripture tells us that Eli’s eyes had grown dim, that his eyesight had begun to fail so that he could not see, this is not only about aging. It is about a time ruled by his sons. Eli chose not to see their personal gain. (Or their household’s gain)
Today’s situation is not at all different from the world of thousands of years ago. American dominance. Iranian regimes. Rulers who openly commit genocide and even claim monstrosity for themselves. Between that ancient world and our world today, the light that today’s biblical text offers is the presence and the listening of Samuel.
How can we describe who Samuel is? I’d like to suggest that this goes deeper than simply saying that Samuel was a boy. He is positioned before entering the institutions of adult men, before systems of rule and governance take shape. He stands before corruption becomes institutionalized, before adult male regimes are formed that permit power to exceed limits.
Samuel can also represent those who exist outside those systems. Those who are not meant to rule within them. Those like women and members of the queer and trans community in Iran, who rose up and led the movement that cried out, “Women, Life, Freedom.” It is with those Samuels that the possibility of a new era and new leadership emerges.
And yet, Samuel’s prophetic ministry, once he becomes an adult male prophet, is deeply paradoxical. When the elders of Israel cry out, “Give us a king like other nations, a king who will go out before us and fight our battles,” Samuel warns them against choosing a human ruler instead of God. He tells them plainly that such a ruler will demand their sons and daughters for battle, and will enslave them to work for him.
At the same time, even if reluctantly, Samuel is also the prophet who anoints a king. David. And David, too, was a monster. He sent Bathsheba’s husband to the front lines to be killed in order to take her, exploiting power and exploiting life.
And yet, when we look more carefully at the calling stories of Eli and Samuel, this is the question before us. Even if we are not free from paradox and stain, can we still, like youth Samuel, discover and practice an inner strength and courage that does not lose its vitality in the pursuit of life and freedom? How can we, in a world where contradiction and chaos intersect, still hold on to a moral voice grounded, as much as possible, in the voice of God?
The question is whether we can become participants in God’s vision of the world. A God who is with humanity. A God who journeys with communities from slavery in Egypt toward freedom. Can we become participants in that vision, rather than remaining viewers of world events, dissatisfied, stressed-out consumers? And is that possibility not, in fact, the true meaning of freedom?
Freedom is not cancellation. Freedom is not the ability to maintain stability and choice by minimizing the impact of the world. Freedom is not detachment, neither caring nor being cared for. The freedom that defines our existence is the freedom to participate, to care, to be frightened and to be amazed.
The biblical passage that tells us Samuel was born as the fruit of Hannah’s prayer shows us that Hannah’s prayer was not an accident.
Prayer has a particular power. Samuel did not arrive at his moment of calling alone. He stands on his mother’s prayers. Hannah’s prayer is a prayer of praise to the God who lifts up those who have been brought low.
Samuel’s response to God’s call, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening,” is itself a form of prayer. It is a prayer that asks for God’s word and God’s vision in a time when the word of the Lord is rare and visions are not widespread. A time of injustice and apathy, when eyes are closed for the sake of personal and corporate gain, within and among nations. It is a prayer that asks for listening as the way we receive God’s word and God’s vision.
As the world fractures into a place we can no longer love, may more prayers for freedom arise. Eli asked Samuel to tell him the truth exactly as God had spoken. And when God’s judgment was spoken over his own household, over his own sons, Eli responded by saying that God’s will should be done.
With this hope, and with this prayer, I bring this sermon to a close. We uphold the name of Renee Good. We remember Black lives. We remember Women, Life, Freedom. We remember all who were killed by gender-based violence, including through genocide and war. And we hold in prayer all Iranian women and men, and members of the queer and trans community in Iran, who continue to fight for freedom.
Speak, Lord. Your servants are listening.
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