Sermon
preached on Sunday, August 18 at the Church of the Ascension, Munich
Jeremiah 23:23-29, Hebrews 11:29-12:2, Luke 12:49-56
Jeremiah 23:23-29, Hebrews 11:29-12:2, Luke 12:49-56
If you type ‘Jesus’
into Google Images® then most of the
pictures of Jesus that you are offered show a kind, friendly, welcoming (and
very European) figure: often with his arms outstretched, hugging someone, or
holding a child, or a lamb. They show the Jesus we call the Prince of Peace,
the Jesus who said ‘blessed are the peacemakers’ (Mt. 5:9), who commanded us to
love not only our neighbor, but also our enemy (Lk 6:35), to turn the other
cheek (Lk 6:29), and to forgive a brother or sister who sins against us not
just seven, but 77 times (Mt 18:21). After all, isn’t Christianity, especially
the Episcopal version, all about love, forgiveness, reconciliation, and
inclusiveness? “God loves you, no exceptions” is the text of a popular
Episcopal bumper sticker and poster at the moment.
So where on earth does
the Jesus of today’s gospel come from? The one who says he has come to bring
fire to the earth and who wishes it was already blazing, the one who promises
not peace, but division and even strife? Well the answer is that he has been
there all along. This is the Jesus of righteous anger who overturns the tables
of the moneychangers in the temple and who calls the Pharisees fools and
hypocrites. For the love that Jesus teaches and demonstrates is not something
fluffy, soft, or comfortable, but robust, sometimes aggressive, and often downright
dangerous.
For some time now, ever
since Luke started to describe Jesus’ final journey to Jerusalem at the end of
chapter 9, our Sunday gospel reading has been about how Jesus uses this journey
to instruct his followers in both the nature, and in the demands of
discipleship, on what it means to follow the Way of Christ. In parables and
narrative we have heard how Jesus’ disciples are to proclaim the Kingdom of God
in word and deed, to heal, to show compassion, to help the stranger, to give to
those in need, to trust in God, and to follow him without reservation. In doing
so they also experience rejection and hostility, and Jesus warns them that more
would follow. Following Jesus means not only being willing to change oneself,
but also society as a whole; that is what striving for God’s kingdom means. Yet
rejecting the status quo, and calling those short who want to protect it and
their own positions of wealth, power, and influence, is not without danger.
Both of these messages, the need to change and the consequences of change, are
also what today’s gospel passage is about.
When Jesus says "I
came to bring fire to the earth” we are probably supposed to recall what John
the Baptist said about Jesus at the beginning of Luke’s Gospel (3:16): “I baptize you with water. But … he (Jesus) will
baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” Little tongues of fire were of
course what appeared on the disciples when they received the Holy Spirit at
Pentecost. But fire also stands for something that cleans or purifies, just as
fire burns away the dross leaving only the pure metals behind. Jesus wants this
process of change to begin as soon as possible: it begins for each of us when
we accept and welcome the transformation that God’s Spirit works in us.
“I have a baptism with
which to be baptized.” The baptism Jesus is referring to here is his death on
the cross. He knows that it is what awaits him in Jerusalem at the end of his
journey and he knows that it is necessary to demonstrate just how robust,
limitless and powerful God’s love is. This image of Baptism is one that St.
Paul also picks up when he asks “don’t you know that all who were baptized into
Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Ro 6:3)
Jesus goes on to ask “do
you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but
rather division!” There are of course
different sorts and meanings of peace. It can just stand for the absence of
conflict, for a state of tranquility, or for harmony, concord, and security.
Peace in this sense can be bad if it is a means of securing an unjust status
quo, of maintaining the prosperity of a few and imposing a harmony that masks
inequality. That peace is not what Jesus brings. God’s peace is much more: it
is health, well-being, and wholeness for all, for the whole world and never for
one individual, or group, or country above others.
So, instead of a
limited peace at all costs, Jesus warns that there will be division and that his
followers must be willing to risk division even in their own family. Now that
doesn’t sound so frightening to us. At least in my family father and son, and mother
and daughter do not always agree: whether about politics, religion, or just the
need to tidy up a bedroom…. And disagreements between mother- and daughter-in-law
are very much part of our comedy culture. But that was not the case in 1st
century Palestine. Obedience to one’s parents, especially to one’s father, and
a sense of solidarity within the family were the standard of the day: Just
think of the fifth commandment to honor one’s father and mother! So like many
other things he had to say, this statement by Jesus must have sounded scandalous:
Following me can bring division right into the heart of your family.
Finally Jesus addresses
the crowds: Recognizing the need for change, seeing that society is in crisis
and cannot continue as it is, should be as easy to recognize as is the weather
he tells them: “You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but
why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” That’s a very timeless question.
The Jesus of today’s
gospel reading must be just as much an example for us, as the kind, friendly,
welcoming, loving, and forgiving Jesus. Proclaiming God’s love can and
sometimes must cause division. That God loves everyone without exception is
divisive to those who believe that God only loves those who keep to their
standards of morality or their way of worshiping. Preaching equality regardless
of gender, race, sexual orientation, wealth, or education is divisive to those
who believe that their group has been singled out for special attention and
favor. Preaching against idolatry, against putting the love of money, power, nation,
or weapons above the love of God and neighbor is divisive to those who worship
these idols. Welcoming the stranger, in today’s terms the refugee, into our
midst is divisive to those for whom that refugee is perceived as a threat to
their security and prosperity and for those who exploit people’s fear of the
stranger to their own advantage.
We have no choice but
to be divisive if we really want to bring about what we pray for at every
service, that God’s kingdom come, on earth as in heaven. Given the choice
between witnessing to the Good News or aiming for peace and quiet, given the choice
between following the Way of Christ, or striving for harmony, we who have been
baptized into Christ Jesus must choose the Way, regardless of the consequences!
That’s what Jonathan Daniels, an Episcopal Seminarian whose death we
commemorated this last week, did when he went to Selma, Alabama at the height
of the civil rights struggle. He risked and gave his life for another because,
in the words of the collect written for him, he would not make peace with
oppression.
This morning’s reading
from the Letter to the Hebrews also has a lot to say about the consequences and
the cost of discipleship and faith. In that author’s long list of Hebrew heroes
and what they have achieved through faith, he does not fail to mention those
who “were tortured, … suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and
imprisonment … were killed by the sword (or were) destitute, persecuted, or
tormented.”
That reminds me of an
anecdote about the 16th century Spanish mystic St. Teresa of Avila. In one of
her visions she is supposed to have asked God why she had to suffer so much.
God’s response was: “This is how I deal with my friends.” “Well” she replied
sharply, “in that case you shouldn’t be surprised if you don’t have very many
friends!”
Christianity once had a
lot of ‘friends,’ when it was part of the status quo, when it didn’t seem to
threaten prosperity and power, when instead the Church was often the source of
prosperity and power. That is not what we promise now, thank goodness. We
believe that God wants change and promises a new and better world, and we
believe that we have a role in bringing this about, as Pope Francis said in his
Easter message: “Let us become agents of
God’s mercy, channels through which God can water the earth, protect all
creation and make justice and peace flourish.”[1]
As Jesus’ followers, we are called to witness to the Good News of God’s love for all in our lives, however divisive and dangerous that may be. That is, in the words of the Letter to the Hebrews, the race that is set before us that we must run with perseverance.” For just as we believe that death leads to new life, so we must also trust that any division is only temporary as a path to the genuine and all-encompassing unity and harmony of God’s peace. Shalom and Amen
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