This Doesn't Sound Like Sweet Little Jesus

Luke 12:49-56

 

        What is the most important entity in your life? For some it is something material like a house or a piece of property. But most of us draw on a deeper reservoir. Many of us have a special relationship with our family. I suspect children and grandchildren rate high on the list. Deep and lasting friendships are both rare and precious. And to a few, the preservation of a greater good occupies holy ground.

        When World War II arrived the war was not just fought on European soil. Families struggled with why their young men should be enlisted in a conflict overseas. The town of Cedartown, Georgia was no exception. My grandfather was foreman of the cotton mill and clerk of session at the Presbyterian Church. When the time came to create a local draft board, my grandfather was asked to chair the commission.  This one man was given the power to decide who would stay home to work for the family and who would be placed in harm’s way. In order to preserve the integrity of the process my grandfather selected my father as the first “volunteer” to go overseas. My grandfather could not risk the life of a neighbor without first jeopardizing the life of his own flesh and blood. While I have heard the story a number of times, I have never had the courage to ask how my grandmother responded to her husband’s decision. Maybe she was proud of the difficult pronouncement her husband had made. Maybe she internally raged against a choice which could have cost her a son. If we hold something to be precious, often there is a price. Sometimes the price is our loyalty to self, or family, or country or even to God.

        The words attributed to Jesus in our gospel reading are difficult to hear. “I did not come to bring peace but rather division between fathers and sons, between mothers and daughters.” We live in a world divided. We are separated by religion, race, culture, and economic status. Voices bombard our TV sets with hate. I have escaped to the broadcast of the Olympics just so I can avoid the explosion of bombs and tempers that dominate the news cycle. In the midst of all this rage comes Jesus’ painful word promising family division. Is this the holy edict which will quell our increasing turmoil? They seem to only throw gasoline on the fire. Yet the words of Jesus challenge us to remember a solution to our ever evolving situation is a lot more complicated than arguing about e-mails or income tax returns.

        A basic belief of our faith is God sent Jesus into the world. Now why would God send perfection into our imperfection? The answer is painfully simple. God did not send Jesus to validate the social realities and values of the existing culture but rather to argue for a better way.  Pax Romana was based on a system that favored authority at the expense of those who were powerless and expendable. If God has been a fan of Augustus, Jesus would have been born in Rome and the Senate would have unanimously declared him the next Caesar. But that is not how it worked. Jesus was born in a backwater town in the midst of economic strife and political discord. Jesus was born where there was no peace, fully aware that the road to a reversal of attitude would be painful. Jesus was born in the midst of human sin, a condition we don’t like to talk about but a reality still alive and well today. Jesus was born with a divine agenda of mercy and justice designed to shatter the existing status quo. It was an agenda which was not embraced then and is seldom embraced today. To speak of mercy makes one look weak. To speak of justice makes one seem delusional. So we don’t speak about either fearing the conversation might drive a wedge between those we dearly love.   Our inaction abdicates speech to mad men and mad women who have little to say about mercy or justice or the road to God’s peace.

        What is justice? What is mercy? Ask any two people and you receive a dozen different answers. Perhaps an even more inflammable question would be to ask what is justice and mercy from a biblical perspective. When one is asked to address a question biblically, permission seems to be given to allow the answer to come from ones personal perspective. It never fails to astound me how folks who can’t tell you if Isaiah is in the Old or New Testament, nonetheless have a clear perception of the mind of God. It is as if their personal relationship supersedes the 66 holy efforts to grapple with the depths of God’s psyche.

        What is justice? What is mercy? Ever notice how much time we spend on God’s justice or God’s mercy TOWARD US?  Yet as I read scripture, the context in which both these words are used overwhelmingly places a sacred burden on our relationship with others. Do we act justly toward the widow, the poor, sojourner, the outcast, or the powerless? Do we show mercy toward the one who has hurt or defiled us? If this is the message Jesus CONFIRMS, is it any wonder Jesus predicted he would bring conflict rather than peace?

        Let’s think about this carefully. When I am right, too often I act as if your opinion hardly matters. When I have come to the correct conclusion for any difficult question, your additional input becomes a waste of my time. As harsh as these words sound, I doubt I am the only person in this room who suffers from the delusion of our analytical perfection. The truth is my opinions can be quickly dismissed because I have a well documented track record of being wrong and second, they are the opinions of one who first and foremost values MY welfare and MY world view.

        When Jesus spoke he did so without concern for his own welfare. When Jesus spoke he articulated no economic or political ambitions. When Jesus spoke his words often clashed with the prevailing view of the status quo. When Jesus spoke he did not converse as a property owner but rather one who owned an authentic understanding of the mind and will of God. And his words cost him his life.

        Our words can bring discomfort. Our words can enrage. Our words can even be spoken on the behalf of others. But how often do our words cross the line between life and death? We love ourselves too much to risk our life for another, particularly if “the other” is flawed, or a stranger, or not particularly thankful for the salvation we bring.

        Not so with Jesus, yet his words continue to divide households and cause disorder even among friends. What on earth are we to do? I know our easy answers are usually the wrong ones. I know our desire to fight for the poor while living in castles is a bit hypocritical. I know the words of Jesus are dangerous and they are primarily aimed at us. And yet I know Jesus is as close to God as I dare imagine.

        So I flee to the Psalms. “Restore us, O God. Let your face shine that the world may be saved.” Sometimes the face of God, the words of God, even the Son of God seems so distant from the rage in our streets, the rage in our political campaigns and even the rage we might occasionally feel toward one another. The author of Psalm 80 lived in a time of political unrest.  In this chaos the poet offered a desperate plea to the one who is capable of saving us. Despite the risk, this shall become my prayer.      Amen.