Pentecost 13C
August 11, 2016
Luke 12:49-56
Sometimes
when I read the appointed texts for an upcoming Sunday, I think, “Oh, I love
this one!” and a zillion sermon ideas rush to mind. Sometimes I read them and
think, “Oh, this one is difficult, but exactly what I needed to hear this
week.” But sometimes, I read them, and it is as if God anticipated exactly what
would be heaviest on my heart, exactly what I wanted to avoid this week, and
then smacks me in the face with it, and I think, “Please, God, please don’t
make me preach on this text right now,” and the Holy Spirit answers, “Sorry,
Jo. This is what you need to do this week.”
That’s
what happened this week. “I came to bring fire to the earth,” Jesus says, “and
how I wish it were already kindled! … Do you think I have come to bring peace
to earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” I don’t know about you, but I
really needed Jesus to be the Prince of Peace for me this week. There is so
much division, all around, and all the fear, sadness, hurt, and disappointment
that goes with it. Even as we celebrate the Olympics, and the coming together
of the world in this
And just
when we need a comfort, here comes Jesus, talking about fire, and turning
households against each other, and division between family members. This is not
a comfortable Jesus, not the guy at whose feet I want to sit and listen and
learn. What are we to make of this Jesus, who spits out these words about fire and division?
Yes, there is plenty in this passage to be
uneasy about. First, the fire. Fire is not something most of us welcome.
Especially out west, where I’m from, fire is an ever-present danger in the
summer. Like many of you, I grew up listening to Smoky the Bear tell me that,
“Only YOU can prevent forest fires.” We learned that fire is dangerous. It’s
destructive. People who fight fires are some of the most respected heroes in society.
Then there is all the elaboration on
division – father against son, son against father, and so on. Family dynamics
can be very difficult, whether we’re talking about biological families, friend
families, or church families. So why is Jesus advocating for conflict and
division between family members? Who can read that without squirming in their
seat?
It’s safe to say that most people try to
avoid conflict if they can, whether in our personal relationships or at work or
even in the church. I have a friend who interviewed for a pastoral internship,
one of the requirements for ordination. His would-be supervisor told him that
this congregation was divided about some big issues, and he said, “If you feel
called to conflict management, this is a great internship site for you.” Yikes!
While I know there are some who do feel called to the ministry of conflict
resolution and healing, that certainly sent my friend running!
But these words from Jesus make us think
differently about conflict, and about fire (whether metaphorical or physical).
If Jesus says he came to kindle fire among us, and to cause division, then that
must be a part of God’s plan for the world – but how?
 |
| Redwood National Park |
One of the prides of my home state of
California is the magnificent giant sequoias: mammoth trees, the largest living
things on earth, and some of the oldest – some of them have been around since
Jesus walked the earth! Part of what
allows them to live so long is not only that they have thick bark that protects
them from fire, but also that fire is actually essential for their
reproduction. First, the fire clears out some the less durable species around
the redwood, plants which would otherwise crowd out the little sequoia
seedlings and prevent them from thriving. Second, fire dries out the cones,
which allows the seeds to escape and germinate – that is, fire is necessary for
new life to thrive. Fire is so essential to the survival of these giant trees,
in fact, that our diligent attempts at fire prevention have actually threatened
the trees’ survival, and now the National Park Service has had to begin
controlled burns, starting fires, forcing it to rip through the forest and
cause the necessary damage, so that the necessary growth can follow.
With that in mind, the fire that Jesus
talks about starts to look a little less threatening. In a forest of redwoods,
fire cleanses, and it brings new life. This is what we expect from a
relationship with Jesus, is it not? Jesus’ fire, his “baptism,” as he calls it,
destroys that stuff in our lives that
keeps us from having a close relationship with Christ. It clears out the
rubbish and helps us focus on God. And, of course, it brings us new life – transformation
in this life, as well as the promise of everlasting life.
Yet, even with that good news, the fire
that Jesus is trying to kindle is really no less scary, no less disruptive, no
less dangerous. As he says, this fire will cause division. This gets into the
conflict piece, that conflict that we humans so desperately try to avoid. We
avoid it by telling white lies (or even lies that aren’t really so white), or
by flat out ignoring it and bottling it up, or by internalizing it and trying
to make it our own fault (which makes it possible for us to change it without
having to talk to anyone else), or by placing the blame elsewhere, so that we
can relinquish all responsibility for it. Sometimes we even avoid one conflict
that we don’t want to deal with by starting another one that we do know how to
deal with – I can’t fix the issue at my workplace, but I can yell at my husband
for leaving his socks on the floor. Oh, we humans are very clever about
avoiding conflict, are we not?
And yet, Jesus tells us that he has come
to bring about that conflict, that division. When she was serving as the
assistant to the bishop, Jessica Crist, now Bishop of the Montana Synod,
reflected on her work in the synod office. A large part of that position is
what she calls “putting out fires” in the church, something she fancied herself
to be pretty good at. But then upon reading this text, she
realized: Jesus is
the one setting some of those fires in the church! She writes, “Talk about a disconnect! I guess
that I am probably as guilty as the next person of making God in my own image,
of designing a Jesus whom I can fully comprehend. A Jesus who puts out fires
sounds pretty sweet to me, pretty compatible, pretty comfortable, pretty
useful. But that’s not the Jesus of the Gospel.”
 |
| A divided church |
So who is the Jesus of the Gospel?
Again, at first reading, this stressed out, judgmental, fire wielding Jesus
that suddenly appears in Luke chapter 12 may seem to come out of nowhere. But
if we look elsewhere in Luke, we will see that he has been there all along.
Back in chapter 4, in his very
first sermon, Jesus says, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring
good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and
recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim
the year of the Lord’s favor.” Sounds fine, until you realize: release of the
captives is likely to upset some folks! Are they not in captivity for a reason?
Letting the oppressed go free is great for the oppressed, but what about those
who have benefited from their oppression – like those of us who buy clothes
made in sweatshops because they are cheap? Jesus’ mission brings about change
and conflict in our safe,
comfortable, often self-serving lives. With Jesus’ fire on the loose, we cannot
maintain a status quo in which people remain hungry, or live in the midst of
constant war, or endure bullying. But in order for those things to change,
people are going to get upset. There will be conflict. There will be division.
There has to be. But after that conflict and division – that is the time that
true peace can be realized.
We see this in our own lives, when
built up tension finally explodes, and it’s terrible, but afterward everyone
feels relieved. It happens with friends, with families, and even in church
families. Some years ago, St. Martin had such an
experience, a huge conflict. Many people left the church. They nearly closed
their doors. A conflict and healing team came in to help sort things out. What
remained was a core of people dedicated to the gospel, to loving each other, to
serving God through St. Martin. They joined with Bethlehem in a covenant,
recognizing that we are better and stronger together. And you know what? A few
years later, our numbers started increasing. In fact, we are the fastest
growing church in the conference. (Bethlehem by the way, is the second
fastest!) Out of the fire storm and conflict and division came new life, new
growth, new little sequoias making their presence known in this divided world.
But are we really surprised by
this? After all, our savior was beaten, mocked, flogged, stripped, and crucified
before he was finally resurrected to bring us all new life. Did we really
expect that new life would come without first walking through the valley of the
shadow of death? Jesus’ death and resurrection did not happen to keep us from
experiencing our own struggles. It happened to show us that those struggles do
not have the last word, that at the end of them comes life and resurrection.
Conflict is necessary to find
peace and life. Discomfort and division are often a step in the journey toward
better life. A forest fire clears away the roughage and offers new seedlings a
chance to survive, giving new life to the trees. Conflict, division, and fire:
these things are necessary for change, for transformation, for development –
and if there is one thing that Scripture and experience teach us, it is that
God loves us too much to let us stay the same.
Let us pray: God of peace, of division, of transformation and of love: We avoid
conflicts and fires in our lives because they can be very painful. Grant us the
courage to face them, and through them bring to the world and to each of us the
hope of transformation and new life. In the name of the Father and the Son and
the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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