Convicted

Adapted from a sermon delivered April 5, 2026 (Easter) at First Unitarian Church of Omaha. (Video available below or on YouTube here.)

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​Comfort or conviction? That was the choice facing Jesus of Nazareth and his ragtag band of followers in Jerusalem, in the days leading up to Good Friday, and into Easter and beyond. The Roman empire and status quo religion pushed back against the dangerous inclusion of Jesus.
 
Comfort or conviction? That was the choice facing Ephraim Nute and the Unitarian congregation he served in Lawrence, Kansas, when the territory was a hotbed of activism by both free-state and slave-state advocates.
 
Comfort or conviction? That was the choice facing Eugene Debs and the labor movement he led, in the age of robber barons and through to the first world war.
 
Comfort or conviction? That is the choice that faces every one of us living through times of tremendous oppression and political upheaval.

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Christ Before Pilate by Jacopo Tintoretto (picryl / public domain)

In the trio of Holy Week poems we just heard, we witness Jesus’ followers at each stage of the journey that week. At the gate, they are full of joy and hope as Jesus arrives. They have heard about his care for the sick; his communing with outcasts; his turning over the tables of money changers and sellers in the temple, with righteous anger about their taking advantage of the poor.
 
If someone were to act in similar ways in our own place and time, I imagine them offering care to those lacking health insurance; breaking bread with transgender folks and immigrants; railing against Christian nationalism for cozying up to a corrupt political order and ignoring widespread hardship.

​Scripture tells that, after the scene at the gate, Jesus is later put to death, in a cruel and public manner on a cross. This was done at the direction of the Roman governor of the territory. He was egged on by more traditional religious leaders, who were none too pleased with the charismatic Jesus’ pull on people, and his questioning of the social order.
 
At the cross, the followers in the poem give voice to their sense of grief and helplessness. They feel small, powerless, unable to face what is happening. It would be easy for any among us today who are paying attention to the powers and principalities to be similarly discouraged. To be frozen in fear and denial. To feel impotent against the forces taking over one after another of our institutions.
 
But. But. A few days later, women arrive at Jesus’ tomb, prepared to anoint his body in the traditional way – only to find the tomb empty.  No body. “Hope does not die so easily,” the poet relays. For the followers of Jesus, hope rises. They are not sure what to make of the empty tomb, or of the man who tells them that love lives.

The Women at Christ's empty tomb / Workshop of Peter Paul Rubens (picryl / public domain)

​The poem ends there. But for me, the great inspiration of Easter is what happens in the months and years that follow. The community that had grown up around Jesus does not disperse, not entirely. They do not go back to the lives they were living before, as if none of it had ever happened. They continue to live by the teachings and example of their beloved teacher. They build communities that do this in systematic ways. Those in power still do not like what Jesus stood for, but those following the way of Jesus keep going. They stick with their convictions, and with each other.
 
The same story plays out over and over in history:  sometimes groups of people, including religious ones, are coopted by the state. Sometimes, these groups, including those that claim to take their cue from Jesus, make a mockery of his teachings. Not siding with the poor but preaching the prosperity gospel, that blames people for whatever lot in life they happen to have. Not leading with empathy and inclusion, but casting stones at whoever seems different. Not criticizing those who would consolidate wealth and worldly power, but caving to them, praising them, becoming them.
 
So to me, the story of Easter is like any good “once upon a time” story – it is a story that happens over and over in human life. The question is, what roles will we play in the Holy Week of our time? Will we choose comfort, or conviction?
 
It’s not an easy question in practice. Sticking with one’s convictions can bring serious consequences. As illustrated by the life – and death – of Jesus of Nazareth.
 
Now, I’m not suggesting every person should have the same appetite for risk that Jesus did. We all have our own risk calculus, based on our responsibilities to other people, our own resources and capacities. And our discernment about how we can best contribute.

But if we do not actively choose some actions we will take in support of our values, we run the risk of defaulting to comfort. Of playing it safe. Of looking the other way while real people suffer.
 
Reverend Henry Meserve, who served our liberal religious tradition, once posed this provocative question:
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​“If you were arrested for being a Unitarian Universalist, would there be enough evidence to convict you?”

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For Ephraim Nute, who served a Unitarian church in Lawrence, Kansas in the late 1850s, the evidence piled up. Born to a Universalist family in Boston in 1819, Nute opposed slavery from early in his career. This commitment was born out in the personal respect he demonstrated for the full humanity of blacks, and indigenous people too. After several ministries in New England Unitarian churches, Nute enthusiastically volunteered to help start a new Unitarian church in Kansas.

​It was 1855, just a year after Congress passed the Kansas-Nebraska Act, which left the issue of slavery up to the settlers in each territory. In addition to bringing freethinking religion to the west, the American Unitarian Association also charged Ephraim Nute to help build the community and its institutions… and to join the free-state forces battling with slave-state advocates for control of Kansas.

Rev. Nute and his parishioners succeeded in all of these areas. The Unitarian church in Lawrence was the first congregation to form in the town. The University of Kansas grew out of efforts Nute began with the church in establishing schools for the community. While in Kansas, Nute would serve on the Free State Legislature (with John Brown, Jr., son of the notorious abolitionist).

Rev. Ephraim Nute

As for the contested issue of slavery in Kansas, while it was being built, the Unitarian church in Lawrence was used as a fort. The congregation helped hold back attacks from the pro-slavery forces who flocked to the state from Missouri and beyond. While Rev. Nute survived, members of the congregation lost their lives in this conflict. In one of his many letters sent back east to Theodore Parker and other colleagues – who would often read them from the pulpit – Nute wrote, “For a time, it seemed probable that the foundation-stones for the church would be wet by the blood of the martyrs for liberty.”
 
Nute himself was captured and held prisoner at one point. His brother-in-law had been ambushed, murdered, and scalped by a drunken Missouri raider. Nute was nabbed in the process of trying to recover his in-law’s body. He and other captives were released through the efforts of hundreds of soldiers. After the ordeal, Nute was warned by slave-staters to leave the territory. He held to his convictions and stayed put.
 
1859 was a momentous year for both the Unitarian church in Lawrence and the free-state cause. The church was dedicated that year. And the free-state leaders of Lawrence successfully pressed a new legislature to write slavery out of the state constitution. (It would take a couple more years for Nebraska Territory to abolish slavery.) The church also served as a hub on the Underground Railroad, helping people escaping slavery in Missouri and beyond.
 
Perhaps this tale comes across more like fiction than history. But the courage of Ephraim Nute – and of the members of the congregation he served in Lawrence – was very real.
 
I was sad, though perhaps I should not have been surprised, to read that the Unitarian tradition was split over the slavery issue during this time period. We tend to remember the people who were most courageous in their time – the Ephraim Nutes, the Theodore Parkers, and others who were considered radical by many of their peers. Never overly generous toward the effort to begin with, the denomination withdrew funding for the Lawrence mission after four years.
 
Ephraim Nute may have stayed alive, unlike some of his parishioners. But he did pay a price for acting on his convictions. His health, resources, and resilience were all severely depleted when, after four years, he left Lawrence and “Bleeding Kansas” (as it was known). Though he never preached in Kansas again – and for that matter, never served a congregation again – Nute returned to Lawrence around the time of the Civil War. He served as a chaplain, before getting involved with care for wounded soldiers. During that time he helped people fleeing north to escape enslavement.
 
In answer to Henry Meserve’s question, if Ephraim Nute was arrested for being a Unitarian or Universalist, I believe there would have been overwhelming evidence to convict him.​

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I want to share one more story with you. Another larger than life figure in our Midwest heritage, who chose convictions even at great cost to personal comfort. We’re moving now into the late 1800s and through World War I. Does the name Eugene V. Debs ring a bell? Maybe to the history buffs among us.
 
Eugene Debs was not a Unitarian or Universalist. As far as I can determine, he did not have any particular institutional connection to religion. I know about Debs because I lived in his home state of Indiana for twenty years, and the innovative choir I sang in did a musical and theatrical program telling his story. I thank its artistic director, Sue Swaney, for the material from which I draw today.
 
This morning’s topic about convictions and commitment kept bringing to mind this quote from Eugene Debs:
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“Years ago I recognized my kinship with all living beings, and I made up my mind that I was not one bit better than the meanest on earth.   I said then, and I say now, that while there is a lower class, I am in it, while there is a criminal element I am of, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.”

​​Debs’ statement evokes a spirit of Universalism. No one is left outside of the circle of love and care and community. You might call this radical solidarity.

And Debs was considered a radical by many in his time. Born in Terre Haute, Indiana – my husband’s hometown, as it happens – to immigrant shopkeepers in 1855, Gene Debs worked for the railroad. At twenty years of age, he became a union member and leader when the Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen was formed in his city. He developed a zeal for workers rights, pursuing legislative reforms. Debs said, “I was bent on thorough and complete organization of the railroad men and ultimately the whole working class.”

As a union leader, Debs’ leadership in leading strikes and negotiating for workers grew. He became a national figure after a Pullman strike of 1894 became “the largest coordinated work stoppage in the nation’s history and the most significant exercise of union strength the nation had ever witnessed.” The strike was violently suppressed, with Debs barred by a federal injunction from speaking to the strikers. Attorney Clarence Darrow took Debs’ case. But even the most moving defense did not persuade the Supreme Court to block Deb’s jail sentence.
 
It was in jail that Debs met with labor leaders and socialists who journeyed to meet him, studied history, and determined that the best way to fight for change for working people was through politics – and particularly, through a new party, a socialist party. Whatever political affiliations each of us may have, I suspect many can appreciate Debs’ audacity. He believed Senators of both parties were too much in the sway of the trusts and corporations and their lobbyists.
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“I am opposing a social order,” Debs declared, “in which it is possible for one man who does absolutely nothing that is useful to amass a fortune of hundreds of millions of dollars, while millions of men and women who work all the days of their lives secure barely enough for a wretched existence.”

Debs had served in political office himself, starting as City Clerk in Terre Haute, then in the Indiana general assembly. He would go on to run for president five times on the socialist ticket, the last time from prison. Through his passion and charisma, Debs helped to grow a third party that met with increasing success – winning 6% of the vote on his fourth run for president, and fielding over a thousand candidates for public office.
 
If you’re wondering whether religious convictions play any role, they do. In this connection, I’m drawing from an article in Sojourners magazine on Eugene Debs and Christian Socialism. While Debs criticized most churches for failing to follow the gospels, he himself found inspiration in the story of Jesus. Debs said of Jesus, “He was working class and loyal to it in every drop of his hot blood to the very hour of his death.” He called Moses a strike leader, too. And he spoke of Christ as a role model.
 
The political climate changed with the coming of the first world war. Congress passed laws making it a crime to speak or write publicly against our country’s involvement in the war. Debs opposed the war and continued to give speeches against the war. He wrote:
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“The working class who fight all the battles, the working class who make the supreme sacrifices, the working class who freely shed their blood and furnish the corpses, have never yet had a voice in either declaring war or making peace. It is the ruling class that invariably does both. They alone declare war and they alone make peace. Yours not to reason why; yours but to do and die. That is their motto and we object on the part of the awakening workers of this nation.”

Debs knew that speeches like this would land him in prison. Like Jesus in Jerusalem, he continued anyway in working for those with the least power. “I would rather a thousand times be a free soul in jail,” he said, “than to be a sycophant and coward in the streets.”
 
At his trial, Debs pled his own case. He did not recant. Rather, he said, “I am not on trial here. There is an infinitely greater issue that is being tried… American institutions are on trial here before a court of American citizens.”
 
Debs was sentenced to ten years in jail. At this time others compared him to Jesus, among them Unitarian minister John Haynes Holmes. Holmes told Debs in a letter, “You are wounded for our transgressions. By your stripes we shall be healed.” While nominating Debs for president, another clergyman described Debs’ release from his earlier imprisonment as akin to emerging from a tomb to deliver a resurrection message.
 
Despite his aversion to most organized religion, Debs’ source of inspiration was clear. Consider this scene, as described in the Sojourners piece:
 
While serving his prison sentence for speaking against the military draft of World War I, Eugene Debs hung a single picture on the wall of his cell: the pain-wracked visage of the crucified Jesus Christ, complete with crown of thorns. To the clergy assigned to visit him, Debs explained the affinity. “He denounced the profiteers, and it was for this that they nailed his quivering body to the cross,” he said. “If Christ could go to the cross for his principles, surely I can go to prison for mine.”
 
Debs served three years of his ten year sedition sentence. Under mounting public pressure, President Harding pardoned Debs and others on Christmas Day 1921. 

Eugene V. Debs, outside federal penitentiary, Atlanta, GA (public domain)

The prison warden said of Debs, “I never in my life met a kinder man. He is forever thinking of others, trying to serve them, and never thinking of himself.”
 
Clarence Darrow wrote, “There may have lived, sometime, somewhere, a kindlier, gentler, more generous man than Eugene Debs, but I have never met him.”
 
Though he had no formal affiliation, one can reasonably argue that Eugene Debs, the Christian Socialist and humanitarian, was convicted, precisely for his Universalist values of radical solidarity and how faithfully he lived them.

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While I have lifted up three remarkable figures, notice than in each case, there were whole communities, whole movements buoying the work of those leaders. The people that continued to practice in their own lives, together in communities, the principles Jesus had modeled. The congregation that collaborated with Ephraim Nute in establishing a Unitarian church in Lawrence, and in fighting for Kansas to become a free state – a congregation that continued to be a force for love, long after Nute was gone from the territory. The movement of workers and voters, friends and colleagues that expanded worker rights and built political power in concert with Eugene Debs.
 
Comfort or conviction? Each of us has that choice as we grapple with the injustices of our own day. This Easter, I invite you to find your place in the communities and movements that speak to you and your values. So that if you are asked – “If you were arrested for being a Unitarian Universalist, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” - you can firmly answer, Yes.

​May it be so. Amen.

This is the full service in which the above sermon was delivered. The readings begin around 31:45, the sermon around 37:25. 

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Sources:
     1 - Ephraim Nute entry, UU Dictionary of Biography, accessed March 2026.
     2 - "Ephrain Nute, free-state minister," UU World magazine, March 17, 2015.
     3 - Eugene V. Debs: An Indiana Original, a musical and theatrical program by Sue Swaney (Artistic Director, Voces Novae). Performed at Woolery Stone Mill, Bloomington, IN, 2007. Script generously shared by Dr. Swaney.
     4 - "Eugene Debs and Christian Socialism" originally published in Sojourners magazine, accessed online in April 2026 at www.religioussocialism.org/eugene_debs_and_christian_socialism

Note:  the Henry Meserve quote is drawn from Richard S. Gilberts' The Prophetic Imperative: Social Gospel in Theory and Practice (Boston: Skinner House Books, 2000).

For a deeper dive on Ephraim Nute, check out two books by Bobbie Groth, sociologist, ordained UU community minister, and great-great-granddaughter of Ephraim Nute:  The Incredible Story of Ephraim Nute: Scandal, Bloodshed and Unitarianism on the American Frontier (Boston: Skinner House Books, 2011) and Liberty's Curse: Being the Deathbed Confession & Memoirs of a Pistol Packing Preacher of the Kanzas Territory ...In His Own Words (2020).