Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
Luke 12:49-56
August 14, 2022
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Round yon virgin, mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Such a tender, sweet song. And for many of us, it carries with it warm memories of Christmas Eve services, Christmas pageants, maybe even caroling while holding mugs of hot cocoa.
And, of course, the warmth of candlelight glowing. A feeling of tranquility, comfort, and deep peace. The song is like a lullaby for the infant Christ child. Rocking gently in his parent’s arms. A song of peace.
It feels difficult to reconcile this image of the sweet, sleeping baby Jesus with the grown man in today’s text.
“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!”
Most of us aren’t quite sure what to do with this version of Jesus. The table-flipping one. The one who calls people “hypocrites!” and “nest of vipers!”
We like the quiet, cuddly, peaceful Jesus more. We like buddy Jesus. We like Jesus the Good Shepherd, the Lamb of God, the Prince of Peace. We like Jesus when he’s domesticated.
Regardless of our preferences, Jesus refuses to be put into a neat-and-tidy box. The Prince of Peace is also the one who comes with a winnowing fork in his hand, ready to separate the wheat from the chaff, and baptize with fire.
Fire is complicated. It can make us feel warm and cozy, like when we hold our candles on Christmas Eve. But it is also dangerous, of course. In the Bible, fire is a complex symbol. Biblical scholars have called it “ambiguous” [1] and “multivalent.” [2] Fire is associated with the voice of God, like when Moses heard God’s voice in the burning bush. Fire reminds us of the Holy Spirit, like the tongues of flame that dance among the disciples on Pentecost. Fire in the Bible is spoken of as a refiner’s fire - something that cleanses and purifies. And, of course, there’s fiery judgment in more places than we would prefer.
What do we make of this Jesus who comes to bring fire to the earth?
The sense of urgency in this passage is palpable. Jesus is nearing the end of his ministry on earth and he’s a bit frantic. There are so many things he’s passionate about - so many things he wants to accomplish - but time is running out.
He tells his disciples that he has a job to complete and he’s under stress until the job is finished. He has spoken often about his upcoming death and resurrection and now the time is almost upon him. The fire that he brings is a flame of urgent hope that God’s Reign - that Beloved Community - might finally be a reality.
Jesus understands that his message isn’t fluffy unicorns and cute puppies. His message, his call to radical transformation, is counter-cultural and hard. I often joke that “no one ever said following Jesus would be easy,” but the urgency of this part of Luke’s gospel gives a sense of just how uncomfortable and challenging it is to call ourselves followers of Jesus. If it’s not uncomfortable and challenging, we’re probably not doing it right.
I repeat: if following Jesus isn’t uncomfortable and challenging, we’re probably not doing it right.
Discomfort and challenge is one thing, but what are we supposed to do with this diatribe pitting family members against one another and sowing division? Biblical scholar Audrey West says it might be helpful to think of these statements as descriptive rather than prescriptive. [3] Jesus’s mission isn’t to divide families BUT the natural outgrowth of following Jesus means that some ties will be frayed. Scholar Abigail Kocher reminds us that while Jesus didn’t come with the intent of dividing families, he also didn’t come with the intent of uniting families. She says, “Making sure families were harmonious was not the goal of his life, death, and resurrection. Jesus came with a greater purpose. He came to create a new family. His new family requires a loyalty to a larger family.” [4]
Now, I don’t know how this hits you. If you’re very close with your family, you might think, “Huh? I don’t want to deny my family!” If you have family members you're estranged from, it might feel good to remember that chosen family is such a gift. We can surround ourselves with communities of support and care when our family-families can’t meet our needs. And faith communities have been a powerful source of support for many of us here. But I also know that some here have been deeply wounded by conflict and abuses of power in faith communities. It’s complicated and this is a troubling text. There are no easy answers here.
Jesus goes on to vent his frustrations that his followers seem out-of-step with what’s going on around them. He says they understand basic day-to-day things like the weather all-too-well, but they’re clueless about things that really matter. He tells them they’re out of touch with the world around them and unable to see how urgent things really are.
Seeing Jesus chastise his followers like this seems surprisingly relevant in the year 2022. How often have we wondered what Jesus might think about the things his followers are doing these days? We wonder: how can a religion of Jesus followers be so far off base? How can anyone read the Bible and come to the conclusion that we’re supposed to hate others who are different than us? Or try to force our religion upon other people? When faith and nationalism get wound up so tight you can’t pull them apart, we can hear alarm bells ringing.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never found it so difficult to call myself a Christian before. So many of the folks who say they are Christians seem to be practicing a completely different religion than what I think of as Christianity. And so it becomes difficult to say “Yep, I’m a Christian,” when we don’t want to be guilty by association.
Again, there are no easy answers here. Just complexity and division and trying to find our way together in messy times.
Jesus’s fiery passion in this passage reminds us, though, that it’s worth it to stay the course. The one we DO call the Prince of Peace, the Good Shepherd, the Lamb of God, the Liberator, the Still Point of the Turning World - this Christ Force doesn’t let us off easily. Nor does he abandon us when the going gets tough.
Instead, Christ burns brightly like a fire - all pulsing energy and crackling beauty. All these centuries later, we are still drawn towards the light. It moves and illuminates and casts shadows. We stand in awe of its presence and mystery and power and passion.
We give thanks for the warm glow of candlelight in those sweet moments like Christmas Eve as we hold the image of peace near our hearts.
And we keep wrestling with those other songs that are more troubling. Like the one Mary sang when she learned she was to bear this passionate fire into the world.
Your mercy reaches from age to age for those who fear you.
You have shown strength with your arm;
you have scattered the proud in their conceit;
you have deposed the mighty from their thrones and raised the lowly to high places.
You have filled the hungry with good things,
while you have sent the rich away empty.
Surely she sang that song - the Magnificat - to Jesus as she rocked him. And in his mother’s arms the passion, the conviction, the thirst for justice that was his birthright seeped into him. May the passion of Christ continue to burn within us, that we might be seekers of that Beloved Community - the Realm of God - too.
NOTES:
[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20-3/commentary-on-luke-1249-56\
[3] and [4] Feasting on the Gospels--Luke, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary . Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.
[5] Priests for Equality. The Inclusive Bible (p. 2220). Sheed & Ward. Kindle Edition.
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