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Home›Traditions›Liberation Theology

Liberation Theology Illustrations

God's preferential option for the poor and oppressed, with salvation as liberation from all forms of oppression.

Key question: “How does the Gospel liberate the oppressed and challenge unjust structures in society?”

25,092 sermon illustrations through the Liberation Theology lens

Poetry

Venice. a Fragment

'Tis midnight--but it is not dark Within thy spacious place, St. The Lights within, the Lamps without, Shine above the revel rout.

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

177 words

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Poetry

The Beautiful Stranger

I cannot know what country owns thee now, With France's forest lilies on thy brow. When England knew thee thou wert passing fair; I never knew a foreign face so rare. The world of waters rolls and rushes bye, Nor...

Universal

John Clare

101 words

Poetry

Bereavement

How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops, to Perfection's remembrance, a tear; When floods of despair...

My Triumph

The autumn-time has come; On woods that dream of bloom, And over purpling vines, The low sun fainter shines. The aster-flower is failing, The hazel's gold is paling; Yet overhead more near The eternal stars appear!

Universal

John Greenleaf Whittier

293 words

Poetry

A Better Resurrection

I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numbed too much for hopes or fears.

Epitaph for Joseph Blacket, Late Poet and Shoemaker

behold, interred together, The _souls_ of learning and of leather. Poor Joe is gone, but left his _all_: You'll find his relics in a _stall_. His works were neat, and often found Well stitched, and with _morocco_ bound.

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

Short91 words

Poetry

Remind Me Not, Remind Me Not

Remind me not, remind me not, Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours, When all my soul was given to thee; Hours that may never be...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

269 words

Poetry

The Forerunners

The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have my brain? must they dispark Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? Yet...

Sonnet 35: No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done

No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud: Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.

The Patriot: An Old Story

It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad; The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day.

Human Life's Mystery (excerpt)

We sow the glebe, we reap the corn, We build the house where we may rest, And then, at moments, suddenly, We look up to the great wide sky, Inquiring wherefore we were born... For earnest or for jest?

Universal

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

151 words

Poetry

Over The Land Is April

OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear...

Universal

Robert Louis Stevenson

Short83 words

Poetry

Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring

From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him.

Sonnet 153: Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep

Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep: A maid of Dian's this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love, A dateless lively...

Lord Byron's Verses on Sam Rogers

Nose and Chin that make a knocker, Wrinkles that would puzzle Cocker; Mouth that marks the envious Scorner, With a Scorpion in each corner Curling up his tail to sting you, In the place that most may wring you; Eyes...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

374 words

Poetry

Sonnet 121: 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, When not to be receives reproach of being; And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem'd Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing: For why should others' false adulterate eyes...

Sonnet 70: That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect

That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.

Songs From Pippa Passes

Faster and more fast, O'er night's brim, day boils at last: Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim.

Eldorado

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old-- This knight so bold-- And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot...

St. Irvyne's Tower

How swiftly through Heaven's wide expanse Bright day's resplendent colours fade! How sweetly does the moonbeam's glance With silver tint St. Irvyne's glade! No cloud along the spangled air, Is borne upon the evening breeze; How solemn is the scene!

From “Later Life”

VI We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack: Not this, nor that; yet somewhat, certainly. We see the things we do not yearn to see Around us: and what see we glancing back?

A Child Asleep

How he sleepeth! having drunken Weary childhood's mandragore, From his pretty eyes have sunken Pleasures, to make room for more--- Sleeping near the withered nosegay, which he pulled the day before. leave them for the waking: Throw them earthward where they grew.

Universal

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

342 words

Poetry

Meet Me in the Green Glen

Love, meet me in the green glen, Beside the tall elm tree, Where the sweet briar smells so sweet agen; There come with me, Meet me in the green glen.

Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight.

Universal

William Shakespeare

107 words