Jeremiah
23:23-29
Psalm
82
Hebrews
11:29-12:32
Luke
12:49-56
You may have noticed that the Sunday
lectionary is leading us through the letter to Hebrews. Written sometime before AD 70 and the Roman destruction
of the Temple in Jerusalem, its author is unknown, and it is not so much a
letter as a sermon; a sermon addressed to Jewish Christians who, as one
commentator observes, “[having] committed themselves to Christ enthusiastically;
now however [had] become disillusioned and miss[ed] the ceremonies of
Judaism.” Moreover, as I mentioned last
week, their commitment to Christ had started to become seriously costly as they
faced social ostracism and even persecution.
Remembering all this, and in praying over the readings, two verses from
the Letter to the Hebrews almost instinctively came to mind – one from chapter
ten and the other (which we will hear next week) from chapter twelve. In the first, the writer reminds his hearers
of the seriousness of the commitment they have made, saying, “It is a fearful
thing to fall into the hands of the living God”. (Hebrews 10:31) In the second, he draws on Temple imagery of
sacrifice and exhorts them to “offer to God an acceptable worship with
reverence and awe, for indeed our God is a consuming fire.” (Hebrews 12:28b,
29) At the same time, today the writer
reminds them – and us – of the great figures of the tradition who in faith
endured all sorts of sufferings and privations, and of Jesus himself “the
founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him
endured the cross, despising the shame.” (Hebrews 12:2) Coming into the presence of God and taking up
God’s call seems to entail hardship, and in the Gospel Jesus’ own words starkly
highlight this: “I came to cast fire on the earth….Do you think that I have
come to give peace on earth? No, I tell
you, but rather division.” (Luke 12:49a, 51)
Now, what I am going to say will surprise
no one, but bear with me – “Suffering is part and parcel of life.” Suffering is part and parcel of life, and doing
the right thing is no guarantee of conventional reward, no safeguard against
the vagaries of life or the cruelty of others; but rather quite often it seems just
the opposite. It seems the price we pay
for behaving well, being faithful. One
of the most marvelous aspects of Christianity – and personally one of the
reasons I am a Christian and remain a Christian – is that our faith does not
shy away from that reality. Indeed,
suffering is foundational to the faith, as well as to the identity and
self-understanding of Christians. Suffering
is so often and over again the consequence of making a faithful pledge to God,
as the writer to the Hebrews details in his various examples, and as we witness
in the life and death of Jesus. In each
case it is their faith – in the sense that we have been discussing it, in the
sense of trusting commitment; it is their faith which brings them into the
dangerous places in which they find themselves.
It is their faithful commitment to God, to justice, to their fellow
human beings, to the cause of what is true or honest or beautiful which brings
suffering into their lives. If they had
not cared, if they had not committed, if they had did not loved, they wouldn’t have
suffered quite so much; and isn’t love just another word for “faithfulness”,
another word for “commitment”?
I mentioned last week, that if we
are to mature in the faith, mature in our prayer life, then we must move beyond the image we
so often have of God as simply a dispenser of gifts or favors. However, we must also move beyond the notion
that only good things happen to good people.
I am not sure, where we get this idea.
I don’t see it in the Scriptures.
I don’t see it in the tradition.
What I do see is the very costly nature of faithfulness, the costly
nature of commitment, the costly nature of love; what I do see is the price –
in the form of some kind of suffering – which faithful people pay for being
faithful, taking a stand, making a commitment.
Again, I never know why this should surprise us when Jesus himself makes
it clear: “Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my
disciple.” (Luke 14:27); and when he
reminds us, “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter
all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great
in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before
you.” (Matthew 5:11-12) Jesus
consistently highlights the cost of discipleship, of commitment, of loving God
and loving the Good News of God’s kingdom.
And if we still don’t get it, he gives it to us point blank: “I came
to cast fire on the earth….Do you think that I have come to give peace on
earth? No, I tell you, but rather
division.” (Luke 12:49a, 51) I am
reminded of a short encounter in the television program the West Wing when the
President’s personal aide was shot at. A
colleague reminded, him “If they’re shooting at you, you know you’re
doing something right.” So, if you want a quiet life, if you want
conventional peace, don’t stand up, don’t join up. Remain socially acceptable and respectable. Remain lukewarm and “reasonable” in your loves
and in your commitments. Do what people
expect and what people like. However, if
you want life, real life, abundant life, then you must enter into its fullness. “I came that they may have life, and
have it abundantly,” (John 10:10) Jesus says in the Gospel of John. And abundant life means committing to
something real, taking a stand for something that matters, trusting in
something that is more than just about me and my little world or concerns. It means loving extravagantly and even recklessly. And, I am sorry – well not really all that
sorry – to tell you that, generally, the cost of all that is suffering in some
form or another because people will hate and victimize you, you will get hurt, your
heart will be broken and sometimes your body too. This is what the lives of saints teach us, it
is was Jesus’ life teaches us. Why or
why, would we think that our following him, would signify anything different?
We’ve talked about faith,
commitment, discipleship, but the word we have been skirting around is love, because
in the end that is what is about. It is
about love. Our suffering is so often
the consequence of our loving. If we did
not love, if we did not care, we wouldn’t suffer quite so much. But if we did not love, we would be something
less than what we were created to be, something less than human. It is our love for God – and for others – expressed
in our faithfulness, as well as in our commitments, that seems often enough to
break us open in pain, but it does break us open and marvelously so. God may not cause or even will our suffering,
but in our being broken open by it, God can enter in to comfort – yes – but
also to transform. While so much
suffering is utterly senseless, in the context of love, faithfulness,
commitment, solidarity, in the context of these we can construct some meaning,
still create something beautiful. In
opening ourselves up to suffering, we can glimpse the very depths of love, real
love, love that is lasting and un-romanticized.
In opening ourselves up to suffering, we also open ourselves up to the
breadth of the human experience; and, ironically enough, in opening ourselves
up to suffering we also open ourselves up to being changed, redeemed into
people of greater compassion, greater tolerance, kinder, more gentle. It may well be true – as the writer of
Hebrews observes – that our God is a consuming fire; but the image of fire in Scripture
is not that of destroyer, but purifier, that which can configure us more
closely into the image and likeness of God.
And so we needn’t fear it as much as we do. In the company of the whole Church in heaven
and on earth we know that fire, trials, sufferings are the all too common
consequences of following the way of real peace, the way of genuine love. When we are committed to these, then there is
no escaping some difficult, uncomfortable, even devastating consequences. Nevertheless, in confronting those trials in love
and faithfulness therein lies our redemption, our wholeness, our salvation.
This has been little better expressed than by the Lebanese poet, writer and
artist, Kahlil Gibran, in his book The
Prophet – and I will end with his words.
When love beckons to
you, follow him,
Though his ways are
hard and steep.
And when his wings
enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword
hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to
you believe in him,
Though his voice may
shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden….
All these things
shall love do unto
you that you may know the secrets of your
heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of
Life’s heart.
But if in your fear
you would seek only love’s peace and love’s
pleasure,
Then it is better for
you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless
world where you shall laugh,
but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears….
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