Reflections
on the liturgical passages for the
SIXTH
SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST, YEAR A (Proper 8)
Isaiah 2:10-17;Psalm 89:1-8 or 89:1-4, 15-18; Romans 6:3-11; Matthew 10:34-42
Over
the past four weeks, the Rev. Soards has clearly laid out for us the messages
in Chapter 9 of St. Matthew’s Gospel; how “Jesus went about all the cities and
villages teaching…and preaching the Good News…and curing every disease and
every sickness”. The themes running through the lectionary passages for last
week and those for today are an extension of Chapter 9 and present some of the
paradoxes of the Christian Life. Today’s interconnected themes are of the peace
of God and of dying to the self.
The first paradox is a surprise found in today’s Matthew passage: the paradox
of God’s peace. Jesus says, "Do
not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to
bring peace, but a sword." (Matthew 10:34) Is this the man whose
coming the angels announced with songs of "peace on earth"? Is this
the same Jesus who greeted his disciples with, "Peace be with you"?
Perhaps the poet William Alexander Percy puts it best in his poem entitled
"His Peace". Listen again to one of the verses in hymn 661:
"The peace of God, it is no peace,
but strife closed in the sod.
Yet, brothers, pray for but one thing,
the marvellous peace of God."
Nothing
in the life of Jesus and that of his followers tells us that total obedience to
God makes for an easy life. The sword, "the strife in the sod," is
the struggle created because the world does not easily welcome the followers of
Jesus. Even during his lifetime on this earth, there was a separation between
those who decided to become Jesus' disciples and those who turned their back
and walked away. Even those closest to him misunderstood him, including his
mother. The world has never welcomed with open arms those who speak the truth.
In pagan Greece, Socrates was made to drink hemlock because the Athenians were
terrified by his truth-speaking. In Jerusalem, Jesus was arrested and crucified
by the authorities because he spoke the truth.
In
the Matthew reading today, Jesus recalls a warning by the prophet Micah who had
a vision concerning the day God would come to judge, a warning that there would
be rifts among relatives (Micah 7:6). Jesus says, “…I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter
against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother–in-law; and one’s
foes will be members of one’s own household.” (Matthew 10:35) Jesus makes the heavy demand that love for
him should supersede the love we have for fathers and mothers, sons and
daughters. Imagine for a moment that we are living in Palestine 2000 years ago;
a place not unlike Nazi-occupied Europe in the 1940’s; a place where family is
important, as each hand is needed to help with the labor; a place where the
word “cross” has a terrible meaning, as this vicious way of executing people is
reserved for the worst criminals. Into this milieu comes a young man whom you
have been told is the Messiah. It is easy to believe he has come to save Israel
when he says he has come with a sword; but, then this son of a carpenter
demands that you must leave your family and your possessions, take up the cross
and follow him. The Jews who heard Jesus' say
“…whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of
me" (Matthew 10:38) must have been horror-struck. What do you
think of these conditions he places on being saved? Do these demands sound
harsh to you? Do they make you want to rush out and sign up? No wonder that at the
end the crowds following him diminished and only the twelve apostles and a few
women disciples remained.
We
assuredly live in a different world than that of Palestine 2000 years ago. But,
my dear friends, just as Jesus beckoned folks 2000 years ago, the risen Jesus
beckons us today. C. F. Alexander puts it well: ‘Jesus calls us; o’er the
tumult of our life’s wild and restless sea, day by day his clear voice
soundeth, saying “Christian, follow me.”‘ For most Americans today, basic
survival has been replaced by “finding the self” as the paramount ambition.
This brings many paradoxes of our own making: food is plentiful, yet we spend
billions of dollars on diet and exercise programs; the worship of physical
youth is so prevalent that we are willing to use medicine that paralyzes the
muscles of the face in order to wipe away wrinkles; we have an abundance of
everything -- so many shoes and clothes that even the poor don't want them. We
have so many goods, so many airplanes and vehicles, too many means of killing
one another. We have so many weapons of mass destruction that we don't know
where or how to store them without endangering the environment for all time to
come. We are "finding" our lives right and left, and the finding
brings no peace, only agony, stress, insecurity and fear.
But Jesus tells us very clearly that none of these things, these fears, these
vain efforts, matter. He says, “Those who find their life will lose it, and
those who lose their life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 10:39) Thusly,
we come to the heart of the paradox of Christian life: we lose in order to
find; we die in order to rise again. Jesus goes on to say, ". .
.whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name
of a disciple-truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."
(Matthew10:42) What Jesus asks
of us is to “lose” the self-centered way of life and to “find” a life that
pleases others before ourselves; to stop judging one another; to stop
divisiveness; to put to death intolerance, bitterness and hurtfulness; to feed
those who are hungry; to help the weak carry their burden; to stop polluting
our environment so that the rest of the world will have clean air to breathe.
All these fall into place when we lose ourselves in caring for others. And
then, lo, and behold, the paradox takes flesh. We find our lives. We find the
peace of God that passes understanding. We have lost our lives in order to find
them.
St.
Paul understood all this clearly. When he “lost” his life on the road to Damascus,
he found it in such a way that nothing but nothing could separate him from the
love of Jesus Christ. He calls it "newness of life" in his epistle to
the Romans we heard read today: Paul writes, “...we have been buried with
him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by
the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:4) Paul understood and reassures
us that we share the death of Jesus in our baptism, and we also rise with him.
Paul continues, "But if we die with Christ, we believe that we will
also live with him." (Romans 6:8) What a glorious, comforting thought in the midst of a world that
tries to scare us to death. The death we experience with Jesus is not
terrifying. It is the only act that makes sense. Dying to sin, dying to desires
that oppress instead of delight, dying to selfishness in order to give God the
glory. And then, as Isaiah’s vision foretold: “The haughtiness of
people shall be humbled, and the pride of everyone shall be brought low; and
the Lord alone will be exalted on that day.”
(Isaiah 2:11)
St. Paul’s letter to the Romans continues, "For if we have
been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him
in a resurrection like his." (Romans 6:5) Thanks be to God!
J.
Barnes