Matthew 10:24-39 & Romans 6:1b-11
They tell us preachers to
tell the truth, to be true to the text, and to preach good news, but it surely
doesn’t look like there is any good news in the gospel lesson today and the
text is a little alarming, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill
the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” I wrestled with it all week long. Read commentaries. Wrote obsessively in my journal. Talked it over with friends from different
faith backgrounds....an American Baptist,
a few Roman Catholics, a Reformed Jew. Talked
it over with other Lutheran pastors.
Complained to a few people, too.
And many of the people I complained to this week suggested (in one case
implored) that I preach primarily on the Romans text.
And really, Paul with his, “we
have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was
raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness
of life” is certainly easier to hear and to preach on than Jesus with his, “Do
not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to
bring peace, but a sword.”
To tell you the truth, I am
a little afraid to preach on this text, because even though I understand what
Jesus is calling us to do, even though I would and have and will put my life on
the line to save and to serve others, it is terrifying to preach the call of
Jesus to people whom I love…because what Jesus says is hard and what Jesus asks
of us is uncomfortable and sometimes scary, and historically, when I have said
these things in the light, folks whom I love have gotten mighty angry with me.
And that’s exactly what
Jesus promises in this text. He is
talking about the kinds of conflict that will arise when we are fully committed
to God’s way of mutuality. We’ll find
ourselves at odds with the public sphere, with the institution of the church,
with our friends, with our families, with our loved ones. But when we are committed to God’s way of
mutuality, we are fully committed to the understanding of God’s love, grace,
and shalom in everyday life, in every aspect of human relationship: public,
private, economic, political, personal and communal, body, mind and
environment.
If we are committed to this
way of life to this kind of life for ALL people, then it’s going to require a
little uncomfortableness on our part. It
will require some stretching and some bending and some giving up and moving
over and maybe some shouting in the public square…and that’s especially hard to
do when we are aware that we are suffering, too. (Or you know, if we’re introverts…that whole
spontaneous public speaking thing can be challenging.)
But here’s the thing: I think we all too often avoid the tough
conversations and shy away from what Jesus is really saying in order to stay
comfortable. And too often, our comfort
comes at high cost to someone else.
I think that within the
confines of Christianity in the United States, we have attempted to domesticate
Jesus. If we keep Jesus in the box of
healer, comforter, friend, divine guy who came to take away our sin and make
us feel good…well that Jesus, the calm one in the landscape painting with sheep
at his side and rosy cheeked, blue-eyed children in his lap, that Jesus
is so much easier to live with than the guy who comes bearing a sword. Keeping
Jesus tame helps keep us comfortable.
And it’s not that those
things aren’t true or that that image of Jesus is bad or wrong. It’s just that it’s incomplete.
If we examine Jesus through the
gospels and through the lens of history, what we know to be true is that, in addition to those things, Jesus
was a religious public leader, a nonviolent revolutionary who sought to
fundamentally reorient the way people lived with each other and themselves.
Jesus called systems and rulers into account.
He put his life and his reputation on the line for the sake of those
whom the world called “bad.” He got
angry and threw things.
If God took on flesh and
walked among us today, in this nation, I wonder what she would think and say
and do. Would she calmly look around and
tell us that she understands that globally we’re doing the best that we
can? Or would she flip over tables and
shout because week after week our best intentions still leave children hungry,
refugees displaced, and millions without access to healthcare.
Now, I don’t pretend to be an
expert on state, national, or international policy. I don’t know exactly what the answers are to the
myriad troubles and evils that plague this nation and this world. But I do know that if one child is hungry,
Jesus weeps. And I do know that if one person dies because
there is no place which will offer him welcome, Jesus weeps.
And I also know that it is my
job as a non-violent, public Christian leader to shine the light on the things
that we are called by Christ to attend to.
Even if I'm afraid someone will be angry with me for doing it. And that shows up in the gospel lesson today,
Jesus says, “So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not
be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you
in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the
housetops”
And it is our jobs as followers of Jesus, as
Christians, to do the thing that is before us.
In recovery communities, we often say, “do the next right thing.” Sometimes that next right thing is
scary. Sometimes we wonder if sharing
means we are going to go without.
Sometimes amplifying the voices of those who are wounded by this culture
of domination or lending our voices to the voiceless puts us in a position to
be wounded, too.
Because the truth is, when you speak out for the weak, voiceless,
oppressed, marginalized, and vulnerable, you are aligning yourself with them
and making yourself vulnerable. People will use that vulnerability to say
you’re wrong or too-sensitive or bad. It’s gonna sting. It’s going to hurt. Do it
anyway.
Because it is our baptismal calling.
Remember hearing Romans? “we have been
buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from
the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life”
Newness of life…a new way of living.
A reformed and reforming world where all people are loved, valued, cared
for beloved…God’s way of mutuality.
As I pondered all of this this week, I felt overwhelmed. And I don’t know about you, but when I get
overwhelmed, I can shut down. Become
ineffective. But then today my friend
Kevin Strickland reminded me of Archbishop Desmond Tutu who said, “Do your
little bit of good where you are; it’s those bits of good put together that
overwhelm the world.”
People of God, hear the Good News:
you are freed, forgiven, and beloved.
Now, in response to your baptism, do the thing in front
of you. Do the next right thing. Do your little bit of good. For the sake of the Gospel. For the sake of the world.
Amen.
