Division, Faith, and Hope
Sermon Given August 14, 2022
Text: Luke 12:49-56
I consider this to be one of those uff da Gospels texts. It hits me in the gut. It makes me squirm a bit. I hear it and just go, “Uff da”.
The family aspect of the text especially gets to me. The division Jesus is describing is not only one social group against another. It’s a breakdown of relationship between family members themselves, parents against children, the older generation at odds with the younger. I’ve seen those conflicts play out in families. There’s a special kind of pain when parents and children diverge, when there are conflicts that absolutely divide them. It is this kind of pain that Jesus uses as an illustration of division. It is deep and intimate.
That doesn’t sound like good news. That sounds like very bad news indeed. We don’t want division. We don’t want to be hurt. One might look back to the beginning of Luke, with the angels and heavenly hosts singing the praise of the newborn Jesus, saying, “Glory to God in heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.” (2:14) and wonder what in the world happened between then and now. Now there is not peace, but division.
Sometimes we like to skim past the pain expressed in the Bible, but here it is being presented in full living color. Division, hurt, broken households. Why does Jesus warn that this kind of pain is imminent? That he is the one bringing it? That’s an uff da.
In trying to sort this all out, I did something this week that I have to admit I haven’t done since my seminary days, I broke open a concordance. A concordance is a big book listing words and where they appear in the Bible. I looked up the words division and divided. I focused on the Gospels and learned that the word division is used only in Luke and John. In both, the word division is used in a specific way, focusing on the question of whether Jesus is the Messiah or Beelzebub, aka the devil. There was division about who Jesus was. If we look at this passage through that lens, I think that division makes a lot more sense. Families will be divided over the character and nature of Jesus. There is no way around it. This is one of the central battles Jesus has with the temple authorities: Who is he? People have to make the decision for themselves. Is he the Messiah or is he a sham?If you’ve ever stared at the Gospel, confused about why anyone would be mad that Jesus because he healed on the Sabbath, it’s because there were plenty of people who saw Jesus as a snake oil salesman, putting on a big show to attract vulnerable people into his cult. A big portion of the New Testament is dedicated to proving that Jesus was the real deal. Division abounded over Jesus.
Jesus caused the division not because he wanted hurt and pain, the cause was him living his full and authentic self. His existence and mission were politicized and the politicization process polarizes people. We know that reality far too well, don’t we? People of many minority groups have their existence politicized all the time in this country. The choice to live fully and authentically when politicized is not easy. It does not bring the kind of false peace that Jesus is talking about here, a peace that calms waves without disturbing the underlying currents of false narratives and stereotypes, those things that cause conflict in the first place. If the root of the problem isn’t addressed, Jesus isn’t for that. Jesus would rather have division, the disagreements that come as core issues are addressed. Jesus refuses to bring a false peace. He won’t slow down. He won’t tone down. People will have to take him as he is and decide what it is that they want to believe. Not even families will agree. It will create conflict within households. But people will just have to decide for themselves: are his words and actions those of a Messiah or a scam artist?
There’s a thought experiment I’ve done periodically throughout my life, a question that I think is very helpful in humanizing this debate. Would I believe in Jesus if I were living in Israel during his lifetime? I think about the long line of Jewish tradition, about how false messiahs had come before him, people who are just briefly mentioned in our Bible because their movements fizzled out and evaporated. There were multiple religious reformations that happened across Israel, a wave of religious fervor was spreading across the nation. Jesus was not the only person claiming to be the Messiah. Would I have picked up on Jesus and said, “Truly this is God’s Son?” I honestly don’t know. Perhaps I wouldn’t. I’m fairly traditional, I hold onto the beliefs handed down to me by my ancestors. To put my stakes on him while he was in human form, a living breathing person I could meet in the marketplace, requires a huge leap of faith. The fact that so many did put their stakes on him is a testament to his divinity. While other movements fizzled out, especially after the death of their leader, Christianity exploded and grew. But then I stop and reflect on my own life now. I have met Jesus face to face. That’s why I’m a minister of the Gospel. I didn’t meet him as his disciples did, a man who was both human and divine. I didn’t meet him in a mystical vision. I met him in the lives and witnesses of people whom I’ve met and who have helped me grow in faith, people living in their own fully authentic ways. There have been many times in my life that I’ve sat with others and felt Christ’s presence, the Holy Spirit radiated between us. One of the reasons why I devote my life to the Church, even with all the brokenness that surrounds it, is because I have been in prayer-soaked rooms where I can feel the connections between God and humanity vibrating throughout the people and the place. One of these deep experiences in my life was one where words didn’t matter. I was sitting in a room with two bishops at my seminary right before a chapel service. One bishop was my Episcopal studies director, Bishop Whitmore. The other would soon be elected presiding bishop of The Episcopal Church, Bishop Curry. I sat with them in the quiet before Bishop Curry preached. They were so fully and authentically themselves in that moment, that their true natures and spirits shone through. They were nothing but themselves and I could feel how prayer had shaped their lives.I could almost see the Spirit move between them, the closeness each of them felt toward God and each other. They made me want to be the kind of Christian they are, authentic, real, and prayerful.I saw God alive in them.
We are called to be those kinds of people, to share the power of Christ with each other, even if we’re just shooting the breeze. We are called to be so prayer-soaked that God vibrates within us. We are called as the Church, to be rich in prayer and spirit filled, led by God to live out God’s vision for the world. This vision is of a world where suffering is no more, where crying and sorrowing are no more. It is a world where the poor are cared for, where the oppressed are liberated, and where the Body of Christ is visibly present in the world through our love and care for each other. That is the vision of the Messiah. Holding onto Jesus as our anointed liberator, we can be Christ’s body in the world. We are driven forward because Christ lives within us, the Holy Spirit is active in our lives, calling us into new and unexpected places where we not only act like Christ, we see Christ face to face as we interact with others. Even in the doubt, the uncertainty, even if we’re not exactly clear where God wants us to go or if God feels absent, we can live into Christ’s vision, we can stake our claims on the promise of the Messiah. I’ve spoken about this vision for a while now, because I think it’s central to how we move forward in the world today. There are a lot of injustices in the world, a lot of hurt and pain, but we have a Messiah who can step into the pain with us and do something about it. We’re not primarily about bringing people to worship, though that’s great, we’re about stepping into the woundedness of people’s lives and sharing love. Worship helps us live into our primary purpose, it is not our purpose in and of itself. Our purpose is love of God and neighbor. Caring for each other as God’s beloved is central to our lives.
In the first verse of our Gospel lesson today, Jesus shares how he came to cast fire upon the earth. This can be used as hellfire and brimstone imagery, but I don’t think this is a fire of judgment. John the Baptist told us earlier in Luke that Jesus would baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. I think this casting of fire on earth by Jesus has already happened and continues to happen. The fire was cast on Pentecost day, when the Holy Spirit, like tongues of flame lit upon the apostles and spread like wildfire across those gathered to hear them. The younger people saw visions, the older people dreamed dreams. The older and younger generations, which were divided in our Gospel lesson today, were unified. The Holy Spirit lit upon them and they could see God’s desires for the world and for them. God dwelt within them. They saw Christ in each other. And because Christ took on the lowest point of humanity, stared torturous death in the face and rose victorious over the grave, we can go forward in hopeful assurance with the promise of new life. The darkness looms, but the light shines brighter.
May we, today, live prayer soaked lives. May we dive into the lives God dreams for us, lives filled with love, with helping others, with care and mercy. May we hold onto God’s vision even in the darkest of days. May the Holy Spirit alight on us, filling us with God’s holy fire, giving us new life. We ask this all in Jesus’ name. Amen.
