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Home›Traditions›Progressive/Social Justice

Progressive/Social Justice Illustrations

Reading scripture through liberation, equality, and advocacy for the marginalized.

Key question: “How does this text speak to issues of justice, equality, and the liberation of the oppressed?”

25,724 sermon illustrations through the Progressive/Social Justice lens

Poetry

Sudden Shower

Black grows the southern sky, betokening rain, And humming hive-bees homeward hurry bye: They feel the change; so let us shun the grain, And take the broad road while our feet are dry. Ay, there some dropples moistened on my...

Universal

John Clare

117 words

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Poetry

Fragment of the Elegy on the Death of Adonis

PROM THE GREEK OF BION. I mourn Adonis dead--loveliest Adonis-- Dead, dead Adonis--and the Loves lament. Sleep no more, Venus, wrapped in purple woof-- Wake violet-stoled queen, and weave the crown Of Death,--'tis Misery calls,--for he is dead.

Universal

Percy Bysshe Shelley

295 words

Poetry

Youth and Art

It once might have been, once only: We lodged in a street together, You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely, I, a lone she-bird of his feather.

Francesca of Rimini

FROM THE INFERNO OF DANTE. CANTO THE FIFTH. "The Land where I was born sits by the Seas Upon that shore to which the Po descends, With all his followers, in search of peace.

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

394 words

Poetry

Sonnet

FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI. GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE ALIGHIERI: Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find: It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mind Those ample virtues which it did inherit Has lost.

In Hilly-Wood

How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs, But not an eye can find its way to see.

Stanzas for Music

I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame: But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

174 words

Poetry

Farewell to the Farm

The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! To house and garden, field and lawn, The meadow-gates we swang upon, To pump and stable, tree...

Universal

Robert Louis Stevenson

Short78 words

Poetry

Confessions

What is he buzzing in my ears? "Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?" Ah, reverend sir, not I!

Death

The winds and waters are in his command, Held as a courser in the rider's hand. He lets them loose, they triumph at his will: He checks their course and all is calm and still.

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice?

Graves of Infants

Infant' graves are steps of angels, where Earth's brightest gems of innocence repose. God is their parent, and they need no tear; He takes them to His bosom from earth's woes, A bud their lifetime and a flower their close.

Book IV. Ode I. to Venus.

new tumults in my breast? Ah, spare me, Venus! let me, let me rest! I am not now, alas! the man As in the gentle reign of my Queen Anne. Ah, sound no more thy soft alarms, Nor circle sober fifty with thy charms.

Holy Sonnet IX: If Poisonous Minerals, And If That Tree

If poisonous minerals, and if that tree Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be? Why should intent or reason, born in me, Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?

Sonnet 14: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing...

The Schoolboy

I love to rise on a summer morn, When birds are singing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me: Oh what sweet company! But to go to school in a summer morn,--...

Similes for Two Political Characters of 1819

As from an ancestral oak Two empty ravens sound their clarion, Yell by yell, and croak by croak, When they scent the noonday smoke Of fresh human carrion:-- As two gibbering night-birds flit From their bowers of deadly yew Through...

Farewell

Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river And the flags where the butter-bump hides in for ever; Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed...

In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence

O Lord, Thou hear'st my daily moan And see'st my dropping tears. My troubles all are Thee before, My longings and my fears. Thou hitherto hast been my God; Thy help my soul hath found. Though loss and sickness me...

The Little Vagabond

Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold; But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm. Besides, I can tell where I am used well; The poor parsons with wind like a blown bladder swell.

On Parting

The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gift Untainted back to thine. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see: The tear that from thine eyelid...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

120 words

Poetry

Psalm XXXII: Happy the Man

Happy the man to whom his God No more imputes his sin, But, washed in the Redeemer's blood, Hath made his garments clean. Happy beyond expression he Who debts are thus discharged; And from the guilty bondage free, He feels his soul enlarged.

To the Moonbeam

Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale, To bathe this burning brow. Moonbeam, why art thou so pale, As thou walkest o'er the dewy dale, Where humble wild-flowers grow? Is it to mimic me?

Spring Quiet

Gone were but the Winter, Come were but the Spring, I would go to a covert Where the birds sing; Where in the whitethorn Singeth a thrush, And a robin sings In the holly-bush.

Universal

Christina Rossetti

Short74 words