Jesus decries our reluctance to see what’s wrong with our world. Not because we can’t see it. But because we refuse to do what we need to do.
Jesus and the gathering storm clouds
Proper 15C | Luke 12:49-56
Jesus just opened up a can, didn’t he?
And what is supposed to happen next goes one of two ways.
- The easy way
- The hard way
And the easy way looks like this. We take all this talk of division and separation, we abstract it, contextualize it, and explain it away. Then we talk about God being awesome and we walk away happy.
The hard way involves leaning into the division, saying Jesus really means this junk, so we better get right with God. And many of us walk away angry.
And sometimes we negotiate some third way in which we split the difference.
The problem with each of these approaches is that they focus more on addressing the anxiety in our guts than understanding Jesus. Because if we don’t recognize by now that Jesus brought the heat to people, that he demanded they deal with all the junk in this world, then we aren’t really interested in the gospel at all.
Perhaps then we’re only concerned with what it offers us rather than what it actually means for all of us.
We’re in pain
Before we go any further, let’s acknowledge what probably does bubble up in us when we hear about division. You might be thinking about presidential politics or acts of mass violence. Or maybe white supremacy or a strained relationship with a sibling comes to mind.
Or perhaps this hits really close to home; broken or severed relationships; families which can’t get along; or perhaps mental illness drives a wedge in between people who really wanted to love each other.
Whatever it is that you walked in with, that resides somewhere in the back of the brain; that beast that comes alive when you’re invited to dwell on division; let us acknowledge its presence this morning. And that all the different traumas present in all the different lives in this room; can we give each other a look in the eye and say “I honor you.”
We all know pain from division. And some of us fear that pain more than others. And then some of us deal with that pain by hiding and some by striking out. Pain can make us do funny things.
Now that we acknowledge our pain and our fear and our frustration and honor each other in it, let us turn to why Jesus is spitting fire this morning.
Agitation
First, we might notice Jesus’s agitation. He’s bringing a purifying fire. A baptism which burns away impurities and returns the vessel to its brightest and shiniest form. But he isn’t setting the world ablaze, it is he who is to be consumed. He even acknowledges his pain:
“and what stress I am under until it is completed!”
But then he doesn’t melt before the heat. He channels it.
“Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
This heat is painful, isn’t it? Even to bring up with each other! Our heads and our hearts shout in confusion! Is this our prince of peace? Are we wrong about him?
Of course, this line and a later one about purchasing swords are often quoted as advocating violence. For two thousand years, men and women of faith have used these words to excuse evil. Devoid of context, these fiery words seem to do precisely that.
But this is shortly after the parable of the Good Samaritan and Jesus’s confrontations with the Pharisees. This is in the midst of warning his followers that his words of expanding God’s circle of love will be met with violent resistance.
His own open teaching of tolerance is met with secret plans and devious traps.
His words of love only cause the open hostility of hate if we dared suggest their hate caused his preaching of love. Such division reveals itself as, at best, circular.
Perhaps then the division Jesus brings, even within families, is not the creation of conflict. Just the honest acknowledgment of its presence already.
Previously…
Last week, Jesus talked about selling stuff and following Him. And he made this weird little analogy.
What he was saying to do was actually pretty simple. Just be. Be ready. Think of yourself as a servant who wants to open the door for his master. He tells us this backward image because if we’re slaves we’re usually reluctant to open the door. And rather than hurt you, God is like a master who would serve you. Want to open the door!
It is a beautiful, but awkward analogy.
In the few verses in-between last week and this week, Jesus makes an even more awkward analogy. In it, he paints a picture of a slave who isn’t eager to open the door. Instead, he abuses other slaves, exploits them, and steals from the master.
Jesus says about this teaching
“From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.”
That’s when he talks about purifying fire and divided families.
In a world in which the religious authorities cheat and steal, abuse and exploit, and who are presently plotting his murder, Jesus is preaching an open, inclusive vision of a transformative faith in public. And what he is saying is that God wants us to have the kin-dom together.
And that vision of a generous God doesn’t divide the people. But it threatens the power of the powerful, the wealth of the wealthy, and the security of the few who are secure.
The Gathering Storm Clouds
The reason we are scared of division is that we can read the sky and tell it is going to storm. We know that if we say certain things in public other people get mad. Jesus’s weather analogy makes sense!
“When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, “It is going to rain”; and so it happens.”
We can read the sky well enough but interpreting the present time is a whole other thing.
Because, if we’re still thinking like those religious leaders, still trying to preserve power and exploit the powerless we aren’t hearing God in the present. Because he’s shouting at us to stop it!
Jesus has already shown us what those storm clouds look like and what that heatwave feels like. It looks like slavery and feels like revenge.
When we fail to accurately interpret the present time it is because we’re thinking like Pharisees rather than disciples. Like abusive slaves rather than eager ones. We fail to grab hold of the kin-dom God offers us because we’d have to give up the kingdom wealth affords us.
Seeing the Kin-dom
But if we give up that power and prestige we can see the kin-dom as Jesus sees it. That is the cost. Power. Stuff. Even certainty. If we leave that behind and follow Jesus, we can have what Jesus offers. Love and forgiveness.
But we also take on those responsibilities: to love and forgive.
So Jesus doesn’t create division, nor does he create unity. He calls disciples to pattern their lives away from dominance and toward generosity. He invites us to love our neighbors and build our community. And he inspires us to change the priority of our life and seek to create a more just world.
This is God’s purifying fire and Jesus dares us to be changed by it and dedicate our lives to living like it. So that we might embody a widening circle of love and forgiveness.
May we match Jesus this way: striving to love and forgive those whom others condemn, include all those we’d rather exclude, raise up those we’d rather knockdown. May we dare to live like Jesus in this present age, this dawning kin-dom.