The Journey to Jerusalem (6/26/16)
James Tissot, Looking Back--the Man at the Plow
This Sunday we continued to focus on our desire to see God's judgment visited upon others. We examined the ways in which Jesus practices grace, rather than judgment. We also examined the freedom that we have in and through Christ.
Sermon
Good morning!
I’m here to tell you all that I survived vacation Bible school! I guess that’s obvious.
I’m here. I don’t have any visible scars or bruises, but to be completely
honest, I was a bit out of my comfort zone. When I’m preaching, I’m in control.
I have a script and I know where everything is going. I’ve done this enough
times to be reasonably comfortable up here.
That wasn’t always the case.
I
preached my first sermon in November of 2012. I was doing my seminary
internship that year and I was really nervous about preaching for the first
time. I was nervous for all the right reasons: I knew what a big responsibility
this is, I wanted to say something meaningful, and I wanted to make sure I
didn’t use too much academic language and preach a sermon that nobody else
understood. But there was another reason I was nervous. You see, I had this
recurring nightmare. In that dream, I saw myself in the pulpit, the text of my
sermon was there on the lectern, but the words of my sermon didn’t come out of
my mouth. Instead, a stream of profanities rolled off of my tongue, and I
couldn’t stop it. I was powerless! The more I tried to stop swearing, the more
bad words came out. I woke up in a cold sweat every night. Okay, maybe it
wasn’t every night and maybe there was no cold sweat, but I had that nightmare
several times.
I
should tell you that my first sermon went really well—I swear! No! Wait, I
didn’t swear. But seriously, everything went well that Sunday and there was no
profanity. I began to appreciate the responsibility that accompanies the job of
preaching. Since that day, I’ve come to realize that when I step into this
pulpit, I voluntarily set aside my personal rights to free speech. I have a
higher calling, and all of my words must be in service to that calling.
Anything—any actions or any words—that might wound or destroy must be set aside.
When I am angry or upset, I have to set that aside before I open my mouth, even
if I can find scriptural justification for what I want to say. Understanding
this responsibility has been an important part of my faith journey over the
last few years.
This
morning’s gospel lesson marks the beginning of Luke’s account of Jesus’ journey
to Jerusalem. Journeys are always important stories in the Bible. Think of the
Exodus and the Israelites wandering through the desert. Think of the Apostle
Paul traveling on the road to Damascus. Important theological events happen
when people are traveling.
Over
the next ten chapters of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus will walk toward his act of
self-sacrifice. The disciples will come to understand that Jesus is the
Messiah, but at this point in the story, they don’t quite get it.
In
the first part of this morning’s gospel lesson we read that Jesus’ face was set
towards Jerusalem. This is so important that it’s mentioned twice (verses 51
and 53). This is more than a directional reference. Yes, Jesus is going to Jerusalem, but these
statements also mark Jesus as a faithful Jew. This is in contrast to the
Samaritans that are mentioned in the story. I’ll speak more about them in two
weeks, when we discuss the story of the Good Samaritan. For now, let me just
say that the Samaritans were not considered to be faithful Jews.
Knowing
that the Samaritans were not faithful Jews and knowing also that the Samaritans
of this particular village had not welcomed Jesus, “because his face was set
towards Jerusalem,” the disciples James and John ask Jesus if they should
command fire to come down from Heaven and destroy the village. The disciples
don’t quite get it. They understand Jesus’ enormous power, but they don’t
understand that Jesus did not come to destroy his enemies. The disciples were
mistaken; they believed they could achieve Christ’s goals through violence.[1]
In
the next part of this passage, Jesus talks about the cost of discipleship.
Three would-be disciples approach Jesus and claim that they wish to follow him.
Jesus offers harsh responses to each one. Jesus tells the first that he will
have to give up his home and his sense of comfort if he wishes to become a
disciple. The next two would-be disciples try to attach conditions to their
service: one wants to bury his dead father before he begins his journey with
Jesus, while the other simply wants to say goodbye to his parents. These seem
like reasonable requests. Why is Jesus responding like this?
One
possibility is that Jesus’ primary audience is the disciples he already has.
Jesus knows that he must go to Jerusalem and confront the authorities. The
disciples don’t know this yet; the disciples think that Jesus will always be
with them, teaching, performing miracles, and building the Kingdom of God:
[Jesus] knows that his
disciples will soon be doing exactly that after he has gone. Their lives will
be radically and unexpectedly different than anything they had imagined. They
will leave behind what they have known and done and go in totally new
directions.[2]
But the disciples don’t know that, yet. They’re
still responding in old ways. They’re still responding in the world as it was,
not as the world that God wants us to build. The way of the world—certainly of
the Roman Empire—was to destroy those who wouldn’t submit to power and might.
That is the solution that James and John call for.
The
disciples serve two roles in the gospels. First, they were real people and
their voices preserve some of the original responses to Jesus’ ministry.
Second, because the disciples were real people, they are our entrance into the gospel
story. They have the same fears that we have and they have the same stumbling
blocks on the journey to Jerusalem.
Following
Christ isn’t easy. Sometimes we want to pretend it is. We want to pretend that
we can stay in our comfort zone and follow Christ at the same time. Let’s face it;
the world has become a scary place. Even in our own country, politics has
become extremely ugly; we’re at each other’s throats over the slightest
differences. Like the disciples James and John, we, too, want to call down fire
on those who don’t believe as we do, or upon those who harm us or anger us. We,
too, call for judgment when sometimes we need to practice grace. We focus on
our own comfort, rather than the call to follow Jesus.
Sometimes
when we read the Bible, we read it as a confirmation of our own righteousness.
We look at the Ten Commandments as a checklist of moral behaviors. We believe,
mistakenly, that all we have to do is avoid breaking the commandments and we
will achieve salvation. And let me say, quickly, that there’s nothing that any
of us can do to “achieve” salvation. It’s not a human achievement. As
Presbyterians, we believe that we are saved by grace alone.
The
other lesson we heard this morning, from Paul’s letter to the Galatians, also
falls into this temptation of viewing the Bible as a moral checklist. The list
of works of the flesh that we heard in Galatians seems to offer an inventory of
immorality; it practically invites us to call out the sins of other people. We
are tempted to call down fire on those who believe differently.
Beloved,
I’m not just speaking of terrorists or deranged people who get hold of guns and
go on shooting sprees. I’m speaking about all of us. We wound one another with our
words every day. I’ll admit that’s really easy to do in the midst of a
presidential election. Between cable news, talk radio, and the internet, it’s
very tempting to call down fire upon those people we disagree with. We say vile
things about people whose positions we disagree with, or who vote for leaders
from the wrong political party. Yet we stand firm on our First Amendment rights
to say mean and hurtful things. This is also part of the self-indulgence that
Paul was warning the Galatians against. When we do this, we fail to grasp
Christ’s call to discipleship. Jesus calls us to a higher standard.
Even
though the Samaritan village failed to receive Jesus, Jesus refuses to call fire
down on the Samaritans. He doesn’t preach a tirade against the Samaritans. Jesus
didn’t even post a rant on Facebook. Instead, Jesus rebukes the disciples who
called for the destruction of the village. The Gospel of Luke doesn’t preserve
what Jesus said when he rebuked James and John, nor their response, if any, to
Jesus’ rebuke. But maybe that’s not important. When they agreed to follow
Jesus, they agreed to follow his teaching and his discipline—that’s what it
means to be a disciple. They accepted his authority.
Jesus
taught grace. He taught that defeat and destruction of an adversary were not
the answers. We find freedom in Christ’s call to serve and to love our
neighbors as we love ourselves. It is through the practice of love for our
neighbors that we find freedom from sin and death. Loving our neighbors is an
act of covenant faithfulness to God in Christ. By loving our neighbors, we
participate in God’s reconciling love for humanity; we participate in God’s
grace.
So
practice grace; even in the little things. Instead of criticizing the parents
whose toddler was killed by an alligator, grieve with them. They’ve been
punished enough. Practice grace during this election season. Find ways to love
the candidates you do not support. And if you’re having difficulty finding that
love, then you can at least start by finding love for the people in your
community who are voting for the other party. When you feel the urge to make
comments about people who support the other party, hold your tongue. Instead of
saying, “well the Democrats all think,” or “what the Republicans really mean;” instead
of saying those things, just ask a Democrat or a Republican what he or she
actually thinks. And then, if you don’t like what that person said, just accept
it and move on. Do not debate that person—even if you know, in your heart of
hearts, that person is wrong. Hold your tongue. Accept that person’s opinion
and love that person all the same. And silence all the voices around you that
call for judgment. Turn off talk radio. Turn off cable news. Turn off anything
that tempts you into self-righteousness.
Our
freedom from sin and death is greater than any freedom we have here on Earth.
Jesus’ call to be disciples, to build the Kingdom of God, is a higher calling.
We have to be willing to set aside our own comfort and our own rights and our
own self-righteousness. Jesus journeyed to Jerusalem; he followed the path of
self-sacrifice. That is true righteousness. We are called to follow Christ on
that journey. We must always remember that have a higher calling and we must
set aside the things that keep us from following Christ’s call. Thanks be to
God. Amen.
Benediction
Now,
beloved, as you depart from this place, remember that we are called to be
disciples. That’s a difficult call to follow. We are called to be Christ’s
church in the world today. We are called to love one another as Jesus loved us.
So go forth and be instruments of God’s peace and love and reconciliation. Do
not return evil for evil to any person, but know that we are all loved by God,
and that we are called to reflect that love to everyone we meet. In the name of
Jesus Christ, our Lord, let all God’s children say, Amen!
[1] R. Alan
Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. IX,
(1995, Nashville: Abingdon Press), p. 216.
[2] Michael
Rongness, “Commentary on Luke 9:51-62,” retrieved from: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1720
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