Division and Fire

 
Luke 12:49-56

Jesus said:

“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.” (Luke 12:49-53)

Oh, boy. 

Last week Jesus was calling us “little flock” and assuring us it is the Father’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. (Luke 12:32). This week he’s bringing fire and division to the earth, and he describes a household that sounds like an extended family’s combative Thanksgiving dinner in the age of Trump.

We know Jesus’ life on earth was replete with many opponents and divisions. The devil challenged him in the wilderness, The members of the Nazareth synagogue tried throw him off a cliff. The Pharisees tried to catch him in legal conundrums. His own family thought he was crazy and tried to have him taken away. 

Now he is telling his disciples that the divisions will get worse as he brings fire – presumably a metaphorical fire, but who knows? – to the earth.

How we wish Jesus was still offering words of comfort to his “little flock.”

But if we look back on two millennia of church history we see he has a point. Since the earliest days, division and fire have been the most constant threads in church history.

So it was when his mother Mary realized what God was saying in her womb: “He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:51b-53.)

So it was when the baby Jesus was presented in the temple and Simeon declared to Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” (Luke 2:34-35)

So it was years later when the first of Jesus’ followers came to loggerheads over whether uncircumcised gentiles could be Christians.

So it was in the first centuries of the church when factions and heresies developed over the very nature of Jesus and who he was: adoptionism which said Jesus was a human being who was “adopted” by God as his conception; Nestorianism, which said Jesus had two natures – man and God – which remained separate when he walked the earth; Docetism which said Jesus was not a real human being but only appeared so to those around him; and many more, all declared heresies that had to be corrected by the Nicene Creed adopted by the first Council of Nicaea in the year 325.

So it was during the Catholic Church’s Western Schism in the 14th century when popes and antipopes competed for power in Europe.

So it was when Martin Luther’s 95 theses led to the Protestant reformation in the 16th century, forever dividing the church.

And so it was when Lutherans splintered along ethnic lines: German Lutherans, Norwegian Lutherans, Swedish Lutherans, liberal Lutherans, Missouri Synod Lutherans.

Were it not for divisions and schisms, the church would not be what it is today.

Are these the divisions Jesus promised to bring with flames?

I spent several years on the staff of the World Council of Churches and the U.S. National Council of Churches. For both councils, Christian unity was an idealistic goal. The staffs spent much of their time preparing resources for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, an event that is observed each January in concert with the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.

The prayers for unity have not been entirely successful. It has never been possible for all Christians to sit down together at the Lord’s common table to celebrate the Lord’s Supper. Catholic churches will not allow Protestant Christians to receive the Eucharist. Most Orthodox churches, even those who are members of the World and National Councils, will never sit down with other members to receive the blood and body of Christ. And as we all know, many Protestant churches and congregations bar non-members from the communion table.

Too, the churches cannot agree on styles of baptism – dripping or dunking – and Catholics, Orthodox, Pentecostals, and others refuse to ordain women as pastors and bishops, no matter how clear the call of the Holy Spirit may be.

The divisions are exhausting.

But are they exhausting because, as Jesus said, we do not know how to interpret the present time? (Luke 12:56)

It is a maxim of our time that our country has not been so alienated – politically and spiritually – since the Civil War.

What do we make of the rising clouds, the south wind, the scorching heat that are signs of our times?

For many years we have been feeling the scorching heat:

The heat of sisters and brothers in many of our churches who support political views based on lies, white supremacy, racism, antisemitism, islamophobia, and ethnic hatreds.

The heat of white supremacist crowds marching through the streets of Charlottesville chanting, “Jews will not replace us.”

The heat of racially motivated attacks and mass shootings aimed at African Americans, Muslims, Sikhs, Asians, Jews, and others.

The heat of persons on the far political right who threaten violence and even call for an armed civil war against properly elected leaders with whom they disagree, and against legitimate law enforcement agencies such as the FBI and local police.

The heat of popular media, including Fox News and a plethora of bloggers and talk radio jockeys, who spread lies so huge and so often that some people come to believe them.

Lies like: the 2020 election was stolen, inspiring thousands of people to storm the U.S. Capitol to threaten to kill the Vice president and other government officials in a violent coup attempt.

Are these facts too political for a sermon?

Many preachers have thought so.

Many preachers have kept quiet about these events in the name of Christian unity. Politics, they say, have no place in church. They threaten to stop giving to the church, they threaten to leave the church. It is better to be silent, many preachers feel, in order to keep the congregation calm and together.

Yet why would we be silent about a political movement based on lies, white supremacy, racism, antisemitism, islamophobia, and ethnic hatreds.

Is this silence consistent with the teachings of Jesus?

“I came to bring fire to the earth,” Jesus said, “and how I wish it were already kindled. I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” (Luke 12:49-50)

When Jesus talks about fire, we know very well he is not referring to the glowing logs in our fireplaces on a cold night. That kind of fire soothes us and makes us sleepy. It lulls us to quiet inaction when we are surrounded by threats and dangers all around us.

Could it be that Jesus is calling us to feel fire in our hearts – a burning commitment to be witnesses for justice?

Professor Jerusha Matsen Neal quotes the poet Mary Oliver in her book, What I Have Learned So far.

The fire Jesus brings “is a fire that, like Simeon’s piercing prophecy to Mary, tests the heart – revealing the thoughts of many and calling for a baptism of commitment.

“Oliver minces no words:

“’Be Ignited or begone.’”

As we strive to represent God’s truth and Jesus’ love amid the divisions and dangers of our times, may God give us the courage to be ignited.

What Will Jesus Find?

In today’s Gospel, Jesus’ message may be a little confusing. Is he telling us to fear not? Or is he telling us to be prepared?

I’ve always thought that Jesus’ assurances in Luke 12:32 are among the most comforting words he utters:

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

But this is followed by a caveat or two:

Sell your possessions so no thief can break in and steal them. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (12:34)

And keep the lights on so you can open the door for your master when he returns from a wedding banquet, and the master will be so pleased he will feed you and serve you. (12:36-37)

And be constantly vigilant against thieves so your house will not be broken into. (12:39)

“You also must be ready,” Jesus warns, “for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” (12:40)

What do we make of these decidedly mixed metaphors?

Jerusha Matsen Neal, assistant professor of homiletics at Duke University Divinity School, offers this observation:

“The movie Tinker, Tailer, Soldier, Spy (2011) is a puzzle of shifting espionage identities and double agents,” Dr. Neal writes. 

“What one sees is rarely what one gets. This week’s passage is full of shifting identities, as well. How else to explain a reading where a thief is described as both a threat (12:33) and creation’s salvation (12:39-40)? How else to account for metaphors that keep shapeshifting from verse to verse—particularly in relation to the Divine? One might call this week’s reading: Shepherd, Master, Servant, Thief.”

My mother, a Presbyterian elder, was determined to be prepared for that unexpected hour when the Lord returns. She kept the beds made, the dishes washed, and floors swept so the Lord would not suddenly appear and catch her with a messy house.

Of course my mother also sought to be spiritually prepared and she made sure her five children said their prayers at night and were scrubbed clean for Sunday worship at the United Church of Morrisville, N.Y.

But my mother’s strenuous preparedness made me wonder if she was anxious about the Lord’s return. Would he enter houses with white gloves to check for dust and untidiness? Would he suddenly appear when my brothers and I were pummeling each other on the living room floor and shout, “GOTCHA!”? What, indeed, were we to expect about the Lord’s return?

Clearly adults are not the only ones struggling with this question I first heard the joke in 1960 as my fellow adolescents were sitting around a campfire at Pathfinder Lodge, a Baptist camp near Cooperstown, N.Y.

“The good news is that Jesus is back.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“He’s pissed.”

This sounded dangerously impious to seventh graders and the counselor’s silent disapproval was accentuated by the snapping firewood and the gyres of sparks in the humid darkness. The censorious face of a counselor looks satanic in the red glow so we’d cautiously tongue our smores until the evening ended with choruses of kum-bah-yah and we could escape to our tents. There, we’d repeat the hazardous joke and squeal with laughter.

Actually, this is more a hermeneutic than a joke. It’s a brief, two-part sermon with yawning theological depth.

It forces us to ask ourselves: what is there in our world to gladden the heart of a returning savior?

Certainly if Jesus came back this morning and beheld the divisions and strife in our country – the proliferation of guns, the political lies, the racial and ethnic hatred - he would be enraged by our rigid inability to put his greatest commandment into practice: love God and love your neighbor. 

It would be a mistake to think Jesus is neutral about this brazen desecration of the great commandment. 

We might glance wistfully at pastel portrayals on our Sunday school walls, of “gentle Jesus, meek and mild,” the Jesus who tiptoes through the tulips with his entourage of happy children and docile lambs, and tell ourselves that anger is beneath him. 

But scripture makes it plain that Jesus had a temper that he could unleash with a righteous fury in the face of ignorance and hate. He scorned the self-important scribes as poseurs who “devour widows’ houses” (Luke 20:47). He denounced Pharisees and Lawyers as “full of greed and wickedness” (Luke 11:39), called them hypocrites” (Matthew 23:13), “blind guides,” “blind fools” (Matthew 23:16, 17), castigated them as  “brood of vipers” and asked how they could escape being sentenced to hell (Matthew 23:33). He condemned whole villages that rejected him, and predicted an intolerable judgment that would drag them en masse to hell (Luke 10:15). Most famously, he physically drove the money changers out of the temple, calling them “robbers” (Mark 11:17, Matthew 21:12-13).

Who, then, would escape the fury of Jesus?

We might figure that out by looking at the types of persons Jesus hung around with, some of whom are specifically named and others inferred: Pharisees (there were some he liked), tax collectors, officers of the despised Roman occupation, poor people, blind people, lepers, thieves, scoundrels, whores, adulterers, idolaters, LGBTQ persons, and Samaritans (e.g., persons perceived as having an intolerable religion akin to Muslims, Sikhs or Buddhists). When Jesus returns, we can be sure he will not waste time delineating between indigenous peoples and Mayflower descendants. But he will certainly be annoyed if he finds us arguing over which of us is legal and which is not.

And who made Jesus angry? The rich, the powerful, the upper classes, the religious elite, anyone who posed as superior to or exercised power over the persons Jesus loved most.

It’s a fair guess that when Jesus returns he will be angriest at the staunchly ignorant and hateful: persons who deem themselves to be in a higher class than others, persons who deem themselves to be a superior race, white supremacists who sing songs of hate that invite other ignoramuses to join the battle against people of color, or – the list is interminable – Westboro Baptist Church and its insane homophobia. (Perhaps you’ve seen the widely posted sermonette on social media: “Live your life in such a way that Westboro Baptist Church will want to picket your funeral.”)

Some haters are so whack that Jesus might actually take their dysfunction into consideration. He might be inclined to cut the incredibly ignorant some slack because, well, because of their incredible ignorance. 

But would the rest of us be so fortunate?

Jesus has taught us to love one another unconditionally, as God loves each of us. That does make you worry how Jesus will react to the vast majority of us Christians who can’t quite manage to love one another. For most of us, one of life’s greatest challenges is to tolerate persons we can’t stand. 

In my years as a church and newspaper journalist, I had ample opportunities to observe and participate in activities that must have angered Jesus.

I’ve seen congregations split for all sorts of reasons, most of them stemming from the inability of members to “live in love, as Christ loved us” (Ephesians 5:2). Of course churches come apart at the seams over issues of theology or pastoral leadership, but they have also divided over the color of paint in the sanctuary, the style of choir gowns, the artistic quality of banners, the timing of potluck suppers, the casting of the Christmas pageant, the animals chosen for the crèche, and the temperature of the coffee. 

Some of these childish divisions might actually make Jesus smile. Other foibles of human behavior may be less amusing and more destructive, such as family feuds, relationship betrayals, vicious gossip, rumor mongering, jealousy, office treachery, and condescension toward all. 

The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the rowdy Christians at Ephesus, summarized rules for behavior based on the simple command to love one another:

“Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” (Ephesians 4:29-32)

These are familiar words about niceness, but what if we take them seriously? If this is the standard of Christian behavior Jesus expects, the joke takes on deeper meaning: Jesus is back, and he’s mad.

If you generalize this standard of behavior to recent human history, it gets worse. Let’s pick an arbitrary date that has special interest to Americans and Europeans: 1492. That was ostensibly the year the Americas were discovered by European sailors with a missionary zeal to bring the aboriginal peoples to Christ. On the island of Hispaniola, 90 percent of native Tainos were dead by 1519 because the European Christians brought them the gifts of small pox and slavery. Somehow the Christians, who reputedly traveled with their bibles, missed the bit about being kind to one another.

As time went on, the concept of divine right of kings had effectively squashed any notion of Christian kindness. Henry VIII (1509-1547), after defying the church to divorce two wives who bored him and execute two more who annoyed him, tried to win back God’s favor by making it a capital offense to believe the Eucharistic host was merely bread. Perhaps these out-of-control megalomaniacs had already formed in their minds the excuse Dostoyevsky posited in Crime and Punishment (1866): that God placed some humans so far above their fellows that they need not adhere to biblical standards of behavior. It worked for Napoleon (1769-1841) but, as any literature major knows, not for Raskolnikov. (Read the book.) 

But there’s no point to trying to name history’s worst Christians. The list has no end, and there are days when it includes me.

So I contend the case is adequately made to support this theological syllogism:

Jesus is coming; Jesus is mad.

So what are we going to do when the trumpet sounds up yonder? Hide?

My instinct is to recall those moments of my youth (and perhaps a little older than my youth) when I realized I had really screwed up. I had broken a rule so fundamental, so inviolable, that no forgiveness was possible. 

Dare I confess it? When I was 17, I stole my father’s tractor to haul some discarded wood beams across town to a small cave, where my spelunking pals and I thought we could build a wooden doorway.

It didn’t work. The entrance to this cave was pure mud and bats, and no amount of lumber was going to change that. So we packed up the wagon and I drove the tractor home.

There, waiting for me at the top of the hill, was Dad. He waited for me with a red but expressionless face.

Jesus is back and he’s mad? Big deal. This was serious. This was my dad, and he was clearly annoyed. My impulse was to run. Maybe Dad’s impulse was to slap me upside the face, which – truth be told – would have been justified.

But what I remember about this incident, in addition to the horror of being caught, is that it ended okay. He didn’t kill me. He didn’t slap me upside the face. He just gave me one of those sad, disappointed looks that I remember to this day: the look of a father who loved me so much that his disappointment in my bad behavior was more painful for him than for me.

That, I suspect, is the kind of anger with which Jesus is returning. He’ll be mad. He’ll be hurt at our behavior. But his love for us will be the same.

Henry M. Nouwen wrote: 

“Jesus’ whole life was a witness to his Father's love, and Jesus calls his followers to carry on that witness in his Name.  We, as followers of Jesus, are sent into this world to be visible signs of God’s unconditional love.  Thus we are not first of all judged by what we say but by what we live.  When people say of us:  ‘See how they love one another,’ they catch a glimpse of the Kingdom of God that Jesus announced and are drawn to it as by a magnet.”

It’s not going to be easy. There are still going to be people we can’t stand. There are still temptations we can’t ignore. There is still the potential that we will make terrible mistakes, errors that will make Jesus mad.

But “in a world so torn apart by rivalry, anger, and hatred,” Nouwen writes, “We have the privileged vocation to be living signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds.”

Jesus is coming. And we sense the possibility that he is coming in anger.

But even more important: Jesus is coming in love. Jesus is coming with the message that God, who prepares a place us, loves us – all of us – unconditionally and endlessly.

May Jesus take loving note of our futile efforts to “put away all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander … and to be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another as God in Christ has forgiven us.”

And may we never cease our efforts to be seekers of sometimes impossible standards, to be members of a tiny sleeper cell of love amid all the hatred and cruelty and pain that surrounds us.