“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”
Jesus also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?"
I remember quite clearly sitting in my preaching class in seminary, learning the rules of preaching, the ins and outs of what it is to preach. We were asked one question over and over again. We were taught how to ask ourselves this question week in and week out. I can still hear Dr. Mark Bangert, with his dry sense of humor, face marked by a rather serious grin, asking the class; “What’s the good news?” What’s the good news?
So let’s try this exercise this morning, shall we? Hear again some of the words of Jesus as we have them recorded in Luke: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled. I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed. Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” What’s the good news?
I read these words. You read these words. We just read them again, together. It would be hard to believe that they came from Jesus if Luke had not written them down for us. But here they are and we cannot ignore them this morning. “I came to bring fire to the earth. Do you think that I came to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” What’s the good news?
I do not think that we particularly like this image of Jesus, the fiery prophet who challenges all of our thoughts and images and pictures of a gentle Jesus. Of a meek and mild Jesus. Think about the stained glass windows that we have here at Bethany. I know some of you cannot see them at the moment, but up here over the alter we have two pictures of a rather peaceful and mild Jesus. In one he stands at the door, politely knocking, as if we had invited him over for a cup of afternoon coffee and a slice of peach pie. In the other he is cradling a lamb. Quite serene. I think that if we were to look at pictures of Jesus from our own context, go back into our memory banks, I would hazard a guess that most, if not all, of the images we have of Jesus are mild in nature. Perhaps the most violent images we have of Jesus are of him calming the storm on the sea; an angry Jesus (but not too violent) rebuking the winds and waves. Or maybe it’s a picture of Jesus on the cross, though PG enough for us to let it into our church building. We do not like to think of Jesus as anything but the gentle shepherd, cradling a lamb on his shoulders. Or teaching with a small child on his lap. But these are not the only images of Jesus we have.
The liturgical theologian John Bell of the Iona community calls the image of Jesus we encounter this morning the “unsung, unpreached Jesus.” Bell is a hymn writer, he’s lectured all over the world, teaching people about the rich heritage of Christian music and liturgy. He has listened to countless stories of how people understand and imagine Jesus. He has come to learn that we are missing part of the picture. One of my favorite stories that he tells is of how our hymns can paint for us a false sense of the gentleness of the Jesus story. He tells the tale of the hymn “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” about how the words do not give us the whole story. “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.” He says that we have gotten it wrong. That we have punctuated the first line incorrectly. This is Bell’s take at the punctuation; “O little town of Bethlehem. How still we see thee? Lie!” He’s says there’s no way Bethlehem was quiet and peaceful on the night of Jesus’ birth. The town was full of Jewish folk, forced from their homes to take part in an imperial census that would probably raise taxes and increase the government presence. These people are upset. And they are seeing long lost family for the first time in years. It’s a late night. The bars are packed. And people are having no trouble sharing their complaints and family stories. It’s a noisy, unrestful scene. Very different than the song we sing. Our culture gives us a very clear picture of a gentle, mild Jesus. But this morning we encounter another side of Jesus, what Paul Harvey might call “the rest of the story.”
This morning Luke shows us how fiery Jesus can be. Jesus is dead serious about his mission and ministry (no pun intended). He knows that the kingdom he has come to preach and live out will bring conflict into the world. And he is not going to pull his punches. This morning we have a glimpse of a passion-filled Jesus being very honest about where following him might take us. And it makes us uneasy. We do not particularly like this Jesus. So what’s the good news?
Perhaps we are coming at this story from the wrong angle. As I was sitting at the deanery meeting in Marble Falls this week, as we were struggling with this particular story, this particular image of Jesus, and as we were asking ourselves “what’s the good news?” it hit me; perhaps this is not good news for privileged folk. Perhaps this is not good news for those in power. Perhaps this is not good news for people like me; I have a good job, a loving wife, a steady paycheck. I seemingly have it made. I am in control. And this message of fire and division from Jesus is not good news for my privileged way of life. I like the way things are, but this is not good news for me. But it’s still Jesus talking and teaching. So perhaps I should listen.
As I go back and dig into this story, I am struck the word peace; εἰρήνη (i-ray'-nay). I have my own thoughts and understandings of peace, but they generally mean that I am happy and in control. A lack of arguing, a life devoid of tension, no conflict to speak of...but you and I know that this is a false sense of reality. This is not the real world. And Jesus knows this too. Jesus, living under the threat of the Roman empire, in the shadow of the “pax romana,” the so called “peace of Rome,” knows that the concept of peace is complex. The “pax romana,” the “peace of Rome,” was only a peace for those in power. It was not a peace for people like Jesus, the peasants, the poor, the lame, the powerless. The “pax romana,” the “peace of rome,” was enforced with an iron fist and anyone who upset the balance of power was hung spread eagle on a cross. This is the baptism that Jesus is taking about. Jesus knows that this is where his life and ministry will lead him. So what’s the good news?
The good news is that the peace the Jesus brings, the peace of God’s kingdom, is not of this world and is not subject to the rules we place on peace. The peace of God comes to all people, to the rich and powerful, and the lowly and outcast alike. Again, these are not our rules, they are God’s rules. As Eugene Peterson, who offers us “The Message” rendering of the Bible, translates verse 56 of our reading today, “this is God’s-season.” The words from Jesus today are good news to the lowly and the outcast, the poor and the oppressed. This is good news for those on the margins because what Jesus is saying is that things are not going to remain the same. The status quo will not continue. The peace of the status quo, the peace of empire, the “pax romana” or the “pax americana” will not have the last word. What Jesus is saying is that this is God’s-season and that we live in God’s kingdom. The ultimate word of peace belongs to God.
This word of peace can be found at the beginning of Luke’s Gospel. We hear this word of peace in the Magnificat, the great song from Mary at the beginnings of Luke’s story, the words we normally only hear in the Christmas season. They have a powerful message for us today; “God has brought the powerful down from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things.” We hear this word of peace again in the words to the shepherds, the outcasts in the hills, the first ones to receive the good news; “Do not be afraid; for see - I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.” The angel tells the shepherds that the one who will bring God’s peace is coming. God’s kingdom, God’s peace, God’s-season is breaking into the world. It is our gift to receive.
Friends in Christ, the good news is that the peace that only God can bring is already here. Jesus is here among us now, when we share his story, when we take the bread and wine, when we remember our baptism, when we are reminded that we are God’s children. A kingdom people. We are in God’s-season.
While this may not look like good news on the surface, deep within the words of Jesus is the promise of God’s peace. A peace that lifts us out of the bonds of death into a life raised anew through the love of God. A peace that rattles the cages of our complacency. A peace that convicts us of our privilege and reminds us that we are more than bystanders in God’s kingdom and in this world. We are reclaimed and remade in the image of God’s peace. We are empowered to share this peace with our neighbors and with the strangers we encounter in the journey of faith.
Friends in Christ, this is God’s-season. We have been given God’s peace. And it’s good news for all people.
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