Rebekah Dummer on unsplash
Karen Hollis | May 3, 2026 Easter 6 – Affirming, IDAHOBIT
Daniel 3:16-28 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego replied, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty. But even if he doesn’t, we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.”
Nebuchadnezzar was so furious with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego that his face became distorted with rage. He commanded that the furnace be heated seven times hotter than usual. Then he ordered some of the strongest men of his army to bind Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and throw them into the blazing furnace. So they tied them up and threw them into the furnace, fully dressed in their pants, turbans, robes, and other garments. And because the king, in his anger, had demanded such a hot fire in the furnace, the flames killed the soldiers as they threw the three men in. 2 So Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, securely tied, fell into the roaring flames. But suddenly, Nebuchadnezzar jumped up in amazement and exclaimed to his advisers, “Didn’t we tie up three men and throw them into the furnace?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, we certainly did,” they replied. “Look!” Nebuchadnezzar shouted. “I see four men, unbound, walking around in the fire unharmed! And the fourth looks like a
god!” Then Nebuchadnezzar came as close as he could to the door of the flaming furnace and shouted: “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, servants of the Most High God, come out! Come here!”
So Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego stepped out of the fire. Then the high officers, officials, governors, and advisers crowded around them and saw that the fire had not touched them. Not a hair on their heads was singed, and their clothing was not scorched. They didn’t even smell of smoke! Then Nebuchadnezzar said, “Praise to the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego! He sent his angel to rescue his servants who trusted in him. They defied the king’s command and were willing to die rather than serve or worship any god except their own God.”
Before I share a reflection on an affirming topic, I like to remind people that while I don’t identify as queer, as an ally, I try and listen to the queer experience and try to faithfully offer what I hear in my reflection. Let us pray . . .
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
In an essay about self-perception, New York Times columnist Charles M. Blow writes, “I had to stop romanticizing the man I might have been and be the man that I was, not by nearly fitting into other people’s definitions of masculinity or constructs of sexuality, but by being uniquely me – made in the image of God, nurtured by the bosom of nature, and forged in the fire of life.” In response to the social norms that are so ingrained in our culture, the norms that expect clear definitions between two genders, Blow connects within and declares: I exist.1
Rev. Elizabeth Edman writes: “Very often the catalyst for that [first] moment of self-understanding – I exist – is the perception of someone else’s queerness. This is why our visibility as a people is so vitally important. These two awarenesses sometimes cascade upon each other so rapidly – I am not alone; I exist – that it can be hard to determine which one comes first. They may, in fact, be two interactions of a single thought.”2
As I understand it, there is a dailyness in the queer community to the affirmation: I exist. Have you heard this term “micro-aggression?” It puts a name on attitudes and interactions with people that aren’t overtly queer-phobic, but still have a bit of an edge to them. When people stare in the grocery store, when passing someone in a doorway who awkwardly ignores their presence, when a coworker “forgets” their pronouns or casually asks, “what’s your real name?”, when overhearing, “rainbows are ok as long as they stay over there.” When it seems like everyone would just be more comfortable if “I just disappeared,” there is a dailyness to affirming: “I exist and I am not alone.” It is not only an affirmation of solidarity between fellow queers and allies, it is a holy affirmation that every person is beloved and celebrated.
With this context in mind, I invite us to turn to the story from Daniel. You might be wondering what Daniel has to do with the queer experience. Stick with me. The book opens at the beginning of the Babylonian Exile, under the rule of Nebuchadnezzar. While many were being exiled from Jerusalem, the king asked for some nice looking young men with education and wisdom to serve the king’s palace. Among those chosen were Daniel, Hananiah, Misael, and Azariah. While they are forced to live within the palace system, particularly Daniel seeks to do so on his own terms. First, the palace system seeks to conform their identity by giving them new names and giving them what the text calls “royal rations” to eat and wine to drink. It’s interesting how the narration continues to affirm their identity with the names they claim, while reminding the reader that the palace system refers to them as Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (those last 3 are familiar to our ears). Right away, Daniel shows his wisdom and leadership by rejecting the “royal rations” and requesting their preferred diet of vegetables and water, which ultimately they receive.
As the story progresses, Daniel and his friends are consistently set apart and promoted because of Daniel’s leadership and wisdom. Just before this morning’s reading begins, the king has a dream, which with God’s help, Daniel is able to see and interpret for him. Then, using his dream as a guide, the king has a golden statue (presumably of himself) forged and dedicated amid a huge festival. Everyone is expected to bow down, but the friends will not bow to this god.
When the news comes to him at the party, the king summons the ones he knows as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Though angry, he is still in a festive spirit and invites them to bow down and worship his gods and statue as the musical ensemble begins to play again . . . if they don’t, he will throw them into a furnace. This is the breaking point for the friends trying to live within the empire. If they don’t conform to his standard of belief, identity and behaviour, they are not allowed to exist. They can stay safe and conform, or they can reject all of that and stand in their truth. Here’s what they say: “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to present a defense to you in this matter. If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us,” but we will not worship your gods.
Not having been in queer shoes, myself, I can only imagine what it is like to stand in the midst of the assumptions, the fear, the systemic marginalization, the misinterpretation, the resistance, the hate, the voting down gender of affirming care, and challenging marriage equality. To stand in the space of make plans while wondering “will we be welcome,” being labeled an issue, and knowing that even today, the threat of violence is still present. We continue to talk about this because it is still a challenge for queer folk to freely live and move and do daily life. Queer folk are still punished systemically for being different. I imagine the sum of it all could feel like heat, could feel like pressure, like a force trying to confine, trying to make uniqueness, beauty, and blessing smaller and smaller so they might ultimately be consumed and reduced to ash.
Nebuchadnezzar is so angry that he has the furnace heated to seven times hotter than usual. As if those temperatures will erase even the idea of them from his perfectly controlled world. It won’t. They do exist. They stand in solidarity together in affirmation of one another. They find that there, in the heat, in the pressure, in the fury, the Holy stands with them. The holy takes on human form, stands in it with them, and protects them from harm. They survive it: the heat, the pressure, the furry, they band together in their holy identity, with the holy presence and they survive it.
Sometimes standing up against oppressive systems makes a difference. Not only are they protected from harm, but they are witnessed. The king calls them to come out of the fire and all of the people who have not only conformed to the system of oppression, but have actively worked to maintain it . . . they all gather around and see that the fire had not touched them.
Seeing them actually seems to soften something in Nebuchadnezzar. Somehow he can see past his own ego and is willing to see them for who they really are, and even seems to appreciate the way the holy was revealed in their actions. He praises the Holy One who is present with Hananiah, Misael, and Azariah, and they are promoted again.
I’ve talked before about Alok, my favourite queer diva on Instagram. They said once in an interview that it was a process to fully embrace their self. They went through a very dark time of not wanting to be in the world. They finally asked: what would it take for me to want to be here? What would it take for me to want to exist in this world. Their answer was to fully and uncompromisingly embrace who they are. It reminds me of a quote from Jon Batiste – he’s a jazz musician in his 30’s – he says “be who you are, everyone else is already taken.” But it takes a village queer, straight, short, tall, growing up, and aging well to say to one another: I affirm who you are, I celebrate the unique, beautiful, quirky, being that you are. You bring something that the rest of us cannot bring and we need you. We must walk together so that no one wonders if they’re the only one, so that no one has to endure the pressure alone. Thanks be to God.
1 Queer Virtue. Rev. Elizabeth Edman p. 109-110.
2 Rev. Elizabeth Edman. Queer Virtue. p. 110