August 19, 2007 - Pentecost 12, Year C
Saint James Episcopal Church, Saint James, NY

Jesus said to his disciples,
"Do you think
that I have come to bring
peace on 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."

Today's gospel
is another one of those ones
we don't want to hear.
Two weeks of Jesus warning us
of the insidious effects of money and wealth,
and a quick warning about a God who comes like a thief in the night,
and then we get this:
talk of division and enmity;
and if you read the bits in between
that our lectionary left out
it doesn't get any better;
it talks about warnings and judgement
and lives in which almost nothing that we hold dear
is left.
Everything in our lives, if Jesus is to be believed,
is at risk of coming crashing down around us,
and there are no guarantees
that any of us
will escape.

There are times
when the last thing we want to hear on Sunday morning
is the gospel.
We come here, many of us, for a moment of peace
stolen from the middle of our busy lives.
What we get, instead, today,
are words about conflict.
We come here
looking for encouragement,
and what we get is something
that makes us want to turn around
and go straight back out
the door.
We come for grace
and what we get
is something
deeply
troubling.

Because today's gospel, the words of Jesus,
are not words
that we want to hear;
they're not words
that anyone wants to hear.
Jesus's words are harsh,
and confronting
and painful.

If the last three weeks
were all we had of Jesus,
probably none of us
would be in this church.
Who cares about a baby in a manger
or even a risen Lord,
who cares
if it will cost us
this much?

So what do we do
with this text?
What do we do with a Jesus
who is at best
insensitive;
at worst,
positively destructive?

I think the key
is to go back to scripture, go back to the gospel according to Saint Luke,
and see what else is going on. What's the context? Who is Jesus talking to? And why?

One of the clues
is back in chapter 11.
Right in the middle of that chapter, it tells us that people were beginning to flock to him. Even the Pharisees and a bunch of lawyers, who most often in the gospels want to trick him and trap him, even they wanted to hear what he had to say. By the end of the chapter, they weren't so enthusiastic – probably because he'd criticized them —
but the crowds had grown even larger.
By the beginning of chapter 12, there were thousands gathering to hear him;
they were so anxious, or maybe careless, that some people got trampled in the crush.
Jesus
had become
a fashion statement.
And everyone wanted a part of it.

It would have been great if his aim
had been to get into the Guinness Book of Records
for the largest crowd come to hear a preacher in Israel;
great
if his measure of success
was his fame;
but not so good
if what he wanted
was to make disciples,
to find the ones
who really believed
and train them and commission them
for the work he had for them to do
the work of the gospel.
With all the crowds
it was difficult to tell the true believers
from those just along
for the ride,
to tell those who were willing to take a risk to follow him
from those just wanting a brush with fame.

There Jesus was with all the crowds
and it wouldn't be surprising
if his words were deliberately negative, deliberately provocative, deliberately harsh,
so as to weed out the true followers
from all the rest.

But there's another piece of context in Luke's gospel
that might help us understand Jesus' words,
in the very beginning
and right near the end
of chapter 12.
In both places
Jesus warns
about hypocrisy,
people saying one thing
and doing something else,
and especially religious hypocrisy,
saying you believe something
without being willing
to live it out.

Of course, no one starts out
planning to be a hypocrite.
It's one of those things
that gradually creeps up on you.
You say you believe in something, you begin with great enthusiasm,
you have the best of intentions,
and then slowly it creeps up on you
and your intentions slide away,
and when you look back, if you look back, you discover that somewhere on the way
what you say and what you do
have drifted apart.
Not deliberately
but it's happened
all the same.

Jesus looks at the thousands of people waiting to hear him speak
and he knows that for many of them, that's what's likely to happen.
They'll begin all enthusiastic about what he has to say.
And then other things will begin to interfere,
and faith and their ordinary way of life may begin to conflict,
and how they've always lived will likely win out,
until finally, the best you can say of them
is that they were accidental hypocrites.
And so he tries to save them the bother.
To speak clearly and directly. To warn them of the risks, the things that are likely to conflict — money and possessions in prime place among them.
To warn them of the dangers.
To encourage them
to think
before they act,
to count the cost;
the losses
as well as the benefits.

Because that's the difficult part of the gospel.
It's good news, good news of salvation,
but it's good news
that comes with a cost.
Following Jesus
means making choices,
and some of the choices we make
will not be easy.
Each time we make a choice,
we choose one thing
over another. That means
that each time we make a choice
we give up the thing
that we didn't
choose.
Making choices may be difficult
because they mean
giving up something we value.
They may be difficult
because they mean giving up something
we like doing.
They may be difficult
because they mean doing something
that other people, people important to us,
don't agree with.
Making choices
can be difficult,
and Jesus wants to warn his followers about that.

Of course, most of the time
the choices aren't so difficult.
Get up for church
or not.
Maybe hard for those of us who are night owls,
but not so difficult in the grand scheme of things.
Increase my pledge by the cost of living each year,
and skip the occasional meal out.
A little more difficult.
Stand up for someone
who others are attacking.
Harder still.

But probably the most difficult choices
are the ones that are to do with our relationships.
And maybe that's why Jesus points them out.

"Do you think
that I have come to bring peace on 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 her daughter-in-law, and daughter-in-law
against mother-in-law."

Sometimes the choices we make, the choices we make
for Jesus' sake
will cost us dearly.
They may even cost us
some of our relationships.
Sometimes directly, like the friend that I had in high school
who was Jewish
and against her parents wishes
became a Christian.
She eventually married another Christian
and her parents disowned her.
Sometimes less directly,
like it was for me, when I followed the call that I heard from Christ to come here to the US,
and left behind my family in Australia.
And sometimes, most difficultly
when our family bonds break
because the vows we have made to one another
somehow come to conflict
with our vows
to God.

These are such difficult words of Jesus. We'd prefer that he didn't say them.
But in some ways, I'm glad he did.
Because what he does
is make it clear
what the cost of following him might be.
And for those of us
who have felt that cost,
at least we know
that Jesus knows
what it has cost us.
And that when things are difficult and troublesome and conflicted,
maybe, just maybe,
it's not all our fault,
but instead
is part of this thing
we know as faith.

Jesus doesn't tell us any more. He doesn't tell us
if the conflicts
will eventually cease, whether reconciliation
is always possible,
what our lives will look like
in the end.

But at least he bothers to be honest with us, to tell us
that it won't always be easy,
at least he doesn't lure us in
with promises of a perfect life,
at least he lets us know
what we're in for.
Jesus places before us
the choice
of following him.
Knowing
that it will not always be good and peaceful and easy.
We follow
a crucified savior.
It cost him everything.
Jesus invites us to follow him, knowing, counting, the cost.
But knowing, counting, the benefits,
of a life threaded with forgiveness, with grace, with hope.

It's a risk
that choice to follow Jesus, it's a risk, and will likely be costly, one way or another.
But those who have taken it
will tell you,
it's a risk that even when it's been costly
has been worth every minute.
Because God is faithful.
No matter what else. God is faithful,
and we can trust in him.

©Raewynne J.Whiteley, 2007